My venture into Sabrina’s music officially began when I listened to “Can’t Blame a Girl for Trying” on a flight to California, and then immediately hit the rewind button after the first play through. I had lost track of the amount of times I replayed the song in a row, but we had landed in California by the time I was finished listening. To the world, Sabrina Carpenter may be a somewhat new face in the spotlight. To me, she has been a star since the moment I heard her debut single some 30,000 feet in the air. I was a newly-permitted driver when I reconnected with Sabrina as an artist, coincidentally stumbling upon her “emails I can’t send” album. My first listen had felt as though I was reading through my own diary at parts. From that point forward, I became a full-fledged “superfan.” I anxiously awaited the release of “Short and Sweet,” and watched every Coachella performance and music video, even those that (regrettably) included Barry Keoghan. Short and Sweet, her newest release, which is bold, unapologetic, and self-assured, intensified the impact of her music on me. But Sabrina’s true impact on me goes beyond her performance or vocal power. Her greatest impact lies in the fact that through her music, she relentlessly inspires young women like me to take ownership of their own voices, just as she has. Often, with a single lyric, Sabrina challenges the fact that our society punishes women for being too much or too little. She constantly challenges the idea that women need to fit into molds in a way that is unique and true to herself, using her music in an unorthodox way to reclaim femininity and power while speaking out against women’s issues. Additionally, her music turns the messy emotions that so many young women experience into relatable art, as her lyrics don’t shy away from these emotions but instead embrace them. Moreover, Sabrina proves that you can impact positive change in ways that are fun, refreshing, and original, inspiring young changemakers and leaders worldwide. Through her music, Sabrina Carpenter has set an example for women worldwide, including myself, by empowering them in a way totally unique to her, proving that embracing every messy, chaotic, and taboo part of yourself is powerful.

Billie Eilish’s songs have always had a special spot in my heart- whether it be songs I learned when first exposed to her or songs like Bad Guy, which my Dad, usually a stoic man, learned to love to sing along to. From her earliest releases to her most recent album, I have become deeply attached to every era of her evolving sound. I have truly grown up with the singer, finding myself returning to her music, new and old, as I have progressed through my life, the opening notes to any of her songs feeling like coming home. While I thoroughly enjoy her upbeat and fun songs, like my strange addiction, Lunch, and Birds of a Feather, it is her slower, more reflective songs I find myself most resonating with. Halley’s Comet, a song with a name as beautiful as the music itself, is one of my favorite songs of hers- contemplative, tender, and devastatingly beautiful. As the song fills your ears, you feel like you’re floating. The song is vulnerable to its core, exploring the feeling of falling in love with someone, despite your better judgement, in a stripped down and dream-like production. The poeticism of the love being compared to Halley’s Comet is what truly gets me, describing their love as otherworldly and yet fleeting- beautiful, and yet terrifying in its unpredictable ways. The 30th, one of her most technically, musically, and emotionally challenging songs, is another one of my favorites of hers for this exact reason. Billie showcases her impactful storytelling skills, beginning the song at first with a soft, remorseful tone accompanied by a quiet acoustic background that intensifies over time. The story reads like an account of someone trying to process their life-changing experience as the song progresses, beginning to feel like a panic attack. The way she continues her phrases without pausing to breathe as the music becomes more chaotic and intense reflects her panic building up, making you feel like you too are dealing with the near-death experience of a friend. The song resonates with me not just because of its genius and beauty, but because of the fact that Billie chose an experience that would be too difficult to talk about for so many as a way to make good by reminding listeners of just how quickly everything can change. What Was I Made For, one of Billie’s more recent songs, is popular for a reason. While the lyrics may be underestimated for being written for the Barbie movie, the composition of the song truly packs a punch, combining impactful storytelling elements with gentle acoustics. The song may be quiet, but the themes speak loudly; themes of identity loss, the search for purpose, and later, rediscovery and reconnection with oneself. Underneath the layers of unsureness, the feelings of being lost, lies an undertone of hope, an encouragement that someday those that can relate to this song can find what they were “made for.” Instead of dwelling on the hurt, on the feeling of displacement, Eilish encourages listeners to allow personal growth by searching for lost purpose, claiming that someday they will find themselves once again. While Eilish’s upbeat songs are youthful, creative, and energizing, it is her more reflective, poetic, and often melancholy songs I find myself most impressed with due to their unparalleled creativity, relatability, and authenticity; traits that truly set apart Billie Eilish’s music from her peers’.

Growing up, my parents joked that when I grew up I wanted to be Barbie. Not for her luxurious wardrobe or beautiful, flowing platinum blonde hair, although those would be bonuses I would definitely not complain about, but instead for her ability to “be anything.” I was fascinated with the fact that someone could pursue so many passions at once, that her options could be so unlimited, that she could excel in so many things, and most of all, that she could help so many other dolls, whether she was an astronaut or a hairdresser. My favorite Barbie was officially deemed Doctor Barbie when I was three years old and received my very own Doctor Set- complete, of course, with a hot pink stethoscope and a lab coat with Bella M.D. inscribed over the pocket. Although the toddler version of myself was petrified of needles and much preferred the socialization and lollipop aspect of her increasingly frequent doctor visits, I was enthralled by the set and the Barbie doll alike. I’d march around my grandparents’ house and perform “extremely thorough and professional” doctor’s exams of my own on my family members, confidently, and somewhat magically, curing everything from my mother’s pancreatitis to my grandmother’s Alzheimer's. The early fascination turned into something much deeper when I got older. When I began to look at careers, I fell in love with the idea of becoming a real doctor, one without a playset of tools, a love that has never left me since. This love was amplified by my participation in my school’s Clinical Rotations program, in which I was described on numerous occasions as “the blonde girl with the stars in her eyes,” due to my utter fascination with everything I saw as I truly experienced the medical world- the quality of patient care, the overwhelming compassion that emerged from the fingertips of each provider, and the immense precision of every procedure. This love for healthcare doesn’t simply boil down to the fact that I want to help people- my adoration is much more complex than that. I want to be the surgeon that doesn’t just recognize and treat symptoms, but sees the person themselves. I adore the fact that I can be there for patients, in both time of joy and comfort, and that I can prevent others from experiencing traumas that I or those close to me have. I look forward to the challenges of constant problem solving, the ability to combine wits with leadership, the ceaseless learning and growth, and of course, the prospect of helping patients with ailments that so deeply hinder them from reaching their full potential. I can’t imagine not loving all of these things that encompass healthcare. I believe that I can give patients the care they deserve, the same attentive and quality care that has been afforded to me throughout my life, and that my progressive optimism for the future will aid me in advocating for both patients and healthcare providers alike. I hope that by using the skills and talents granted to me by various life experiences and environments, I can advocate for better patient access to surgery, specifically in rural and underserved areas, surgical equity, diversity in medicine, funding for biomedical research, and institutional changes that support the quality of life of healthcare providers, such as better work-life balance. Someday, I hope to be someone else’s version of Barbie- a role model that shows little girls that they really can “be anything,” and make a true difference with their passions.