I, like all of the people in my generation and generations before, were sold a dream, an ideal: if a person wants to live the American Dream, they will need a college education. But for me, a college education was more than the obvious next step. As a Black child who grew up in poverty, what can I say except life was hard? I and my family had to get food by any means: food pantries, food stamps, school lunches, free food from churches and summer programs. A walk from my home to the bus stop to ride to school meant harassment or getting caught in the crossfire of a gang war. I had to watch my single mother take on long hours and double shifts to support all of her kids, yet it was never enough to get us out of chronic homelessness. A college education wasn’t just a next step after high school, it was my ticket out of the hood, and out of the cycle of poverty I and people like me were trapped in. I did whatever I could to secure my college education: I had joined College Possible, a program that helped underprivileged youth apply to college and get accepted, I did volunteer work and extracurricular activities to strengthen my college resume, and I took advantage of my local library’s free tutoring sessions to improve my grades and my chances. I had thought that with all of that hard work, I was set for the next four years, and for the briefest moment, I was: I was accepted to a prestigious private college with an excellent scholarship. Unfortunately, there were so many major setbacks: my mother lost her job, we lost yet another home, and our city was becoming too dangerous. We “fled” to the southern states,skipping from one southern state to the next as we still struggled with homelessness, and so, I had to put off my college dream. I had resigned to the idea that I was going to continue the cycle of poverty in my family, but then, years later, we had a miracle: my niece. Once I had heard the news that my brother’s partner was pregnant, I knew that failure was no longer an option. Within a week, I was enrolled in a school. I had struggled immensely in my classes due to my circumstances, but I had achieved the first step of my goal: earning an associates degree. My next step, which is one of my ultimate goals, is to earn my bachelor’s degree. As of this essay, I am one semester away from graduating. But my financial circumstances have caught up with me: I was ineligible for financial aid for the previous semester, and can’t continue my education until I pay off the bill. This scholarship would alleviate some of that burden and allow me to make it to the finish line after so many years of struggling. I would finally find a well-paying career to help take care of my niece and give her the happy and healthy life she deserves.

I admit: I try to steer clear of recommendations from #booktok because I have found that only particular types of books dominated this part of the platform: insta-love and dark "romance". At the risk of sounding like a snob, I find those types of books distasteful, and they do a disservice to the romance genre that had been and still is experiencing contempt from the wider reading community. But, as I've navigated the reading communities on Tiktok to find a community that feels right to me, I've stumbled across what I would like to call booktok's foil: #littok. #Littok, as can be determined from the name itself, is a space on tiktok for literature lovers, readers who adore thought-provoking titles and darkly complex characters; any romance that happens to occur in the story is one that the characters actually have to work toward. Although I have adored challenging books in middle school and high school, now that I am older and my perspective shaped by life experience, I've found that I can truly understand these books better, and that I crave books that examine the human experience. When I scroll through littok, I learn about classics that I had never gotten to enjoy, as well as newer titles that will emotionally wreck me and shape me as a new person, titles that I may not have been able to attain due to limiting circumstances like my local library's small stock or my family's poverty. Looking through #littok's videos have helped me curate a mental bookshelf ot titles that I would like to surround myself with, such as "Klara and the Sun", "Before the Coffee Gets Cold", "Lolita", "Flowers for Algernon", and "The Handmaid's Tale". "Klara and the Sun", "Before the Coffee Gets Cold", and many other contemporary titles like those have found some readership in the #booktok community, and though their readership is small compared to ones found in #littok, I can still see how they influence the small pocket of #booktok in some of the same ways as its sister space: I see a growing awareness of mental and emotional health, a desire to get involved in politics; I see that these books drive readers to protect books from bans, and, most importantly: I see that these books have brought a global community together. I have made quite a few friends through my love of literature. #Littok promotes books that makes readers uncomfortable, that makes readers ask questions and to analyze the titles and content we consume, instead of passively enjoy them. #Littok is about the human condition, the history we may be doomed to repeat, and the fight for a better future.

Being a child of a single-parent household, I have learned one valuable lesson: work hard. When I trace my lineage back to chattel slavery, I can see how generational poverty took its toll on my family for centuries, even after emancipation. With generational poverty, opportunities were essentially robbed from my family, and I knew that if I were going to put an end to it so that the next generation of my family, such as my bright and rambunctious niece, can have a better childhood than I had and reach their potential, I was going to have to take those opportunities back for myself. Growing up in poverty meant that I have to be resourceful, finding any way to fund my education so I can keep going, and seeking learning aids like free tutoring services for when I struggle academically. I have already earned my associates degree in Communication Studies, and have used that degree to gain a position as a contributor to a media critique newsletter. With this scholarship, I can achieve my final dream of earning my Bachelor's degree and give my niece the life she deserves.

My idea for a Love Island Challenge is called Cupid's Hunt, where a designated "Cupid" from the staff hunts down participants with heart arrows. The last two survivors of this playful pursuit earn the reward of a special date! Rules: Cupid has a limited number of arrows and a set time to hunt down the targets. Targets can form alliances to protect each other or strategize individually. Once hit by an arrow, a target is “out” and must leave the designated area. The last two remaining targets are declared the winners and earn a special date together. Gameplay Dynamics: Strategy and Alliances: Contestants must decide whether to form alliances or rely on their own skills to avoid Cupid’s arrows. This decision-making process can reveal underlying dynamics and test the strength of existing relationships. Physical and Mental Agility: The challenge requires contestants to be quick on their feet and think strategically, adding an element of physical and mental agility. Romantic Tension: The competitive nature of the challenge can heighten romantic tension, as contestants may protect or betray each other to secure a spot in the final two. Impact on Relationships: Bond Strengthening: The shared experience of participating in Cupid’s Hunt can strengthen bonds between contestants, as they navigate the challenge together. Revealing True Intentions: The challenge can reveal contestants’ true intentions and feelings, as their actions during the hunt may reflect their level of commitment and loyalty. Memorable Moments: The excitement and unpredictability of Cupid’s Hunt can create memorable moments that contribute to the overall narrative of the show. Conclusion: Cupid’s Hunt would be a unique and thrilling challenge that combines elements of competition, strategy, and romance. By engaging contestants in a playful yet intense game, the challenge has the potential to deepen connections, reveal true intentions, and create unforgettable moments on Love Island. This challenge would not only entertains viewers but also adds depth to the relationships and dynamics among the contestants!

I hate that alcohol is a "legal" drug. Growing up, my grandmother’s alcoholism cast a long shadow over my childhood. Her belligerent behavior after a few cans was a constant source of tension and fear in our household; when she would turn her anger towards my mother and get into fights with her, it left me in a perpetual state of anxiety, never knowing when the next outburst would occur. This environment took its toll on my mental health,and years later, I was diagnosed with generalized anxiety disorder and binge eating disorder. As a child, I often felt like I was walking on eggshells as soon as my grandmother asked me to pass her a beer. The stress of this constant vigilance took a toll on me, manifesting as chronic worry and physical symptoms like headaches and stomachaches. I struggled to concentrate in school or make friends, embarassed of taking my friends home to see a drunkard. This anxiety followed me into my teenage years, becoming a constant companion that I couldn’t shake. In an attempt to cope with my overwhelming emotions, I turned to food for comfort. Binge eating became a way to numb the anxiety and provide a temporary escape from the chaos around me. However, this coping mechanism quickly spiraled into a disorder of its own. I would eat large quantities of food in secret, fearing that if my grandmother saw the evidence, she would attack me. The cycle of bingeing and self-loathing only exacerbated my anxiety, creating a vicious loop that seemed impossible to break. One of the most significant breakthroughs came when I had start meditating. Meditation helped me stay grounded in the present moment, reducing the constant worry about the future. I also began to understand the importance of self-compassion, learning to forgive myself for my past behaviors and focus on my progress. In addition to therapy, I joined a support group for individuals with eating disorders. Sharing my experiences with others who understood my struggles was incredibly validating and empowering. I no longer felt alone in my journey, and the support from my peers gave me the strength to continue working toward recovery. As I began to manage my anxiety and binge eating more effectively, I noticed a positive impact on my academic performance. I was able to concentrate better in class, participate more actively in discussions, and complete assignments with greater focus and clarity. My grades improved, and I started to feel more confident in my abilities as a student. Overcoming my mental illnesses has been a challenging and ongoing process, but it has also been incredibly rewarding. I am proud of the progress I have made and am committed to continuing my journey toward better mental health. By addressing my anxiety and binge eating disorder, I am becoming a better college student and, more importantly, a healthier and happier person. Despite these challenges, I was determined to pursue my education and build a better future for myself. When I started college, I knew I needed to address my mental health issues head-on if I wanted to succeed. Seeking help was the first step in my journey toward healing. I began seeing a therapist who specialized in anxiety and eating disorders. Through therapy, I learned to identify the triggers for my anxiety and develop healthier coping strategies.

My favorite song of the Brat album is "Rewind". Long ago, around the time of my first hospitalization at a behavioral center, I had longed for the simpler days of my childhood. Although I now realized that I had romanticized what was actually a very traumatic era of my life in which I had no power to change anything and I was hurt constantly, I still ached for those sweet moments of childhood bliss, Saturday morning cartoons, trips to the park, free community festivals that were almost as good as the expensive ones like Summerfest. "Rewind" would have fit in greatly with the playlist rotation I had going during my mental breakdown, as I had cycled through depressing ballads about aging and the good ol' days such as "7 Years" by Lukas Graham, "Barbie" by P!nk, "Stressed Out" by Twenty One Pilots, and "Forever Young" by Jay-Z and Mr. Hudson. There was no shortage of songs that could send me spiraling in the time when I had made a major life choice and felt like I had failed, that reminded me that I wasn't where I had wanted to be in life, that things are much different than what I remember it. "Rewind" reminds me that I'm not alone in my exhaustion of the rat's race that life's become, that many of us long for the days past.

Summer 2012. The day that I saw The Joy Formidable. In this memory that is both my first and favorite concert memory, I was fresh out of high school, alit from within as I had finally made my college choice with an excellent full-ride scholarship, picked out of a dozen acceptance letters. Though I grew up in abject poverty with all the trappings, such as EBT, gang violence, summer lunches, and missed schools due to no money for bus fare, I had received my diploma, and I had hope. That was the greatest hope I had ever felt. And to celebrate my crowning achievement, my family had decided to splurge, and we had purchased passes to Summerfest. When my family traversed the festival grounds, looking for something to do that was still within our budget (you know: free) it was so magical, being everything I had imagined when I had watched movies and music videos of festivalgoers living carefree: spinning lights, joyful screams, music blasting every few feet. This was the time that I was really into rock music, basically making it my entire personality. Though my favorite bands then were Evanescence, Linkin Park, and CryoShell, I was always looking to expand my music library with new artists just as long as their music was something that I can belt along to and play air guitar with. Something to make my hot, young blood sing. As my family still strolled through the park grounds and chatted about trying cream puffs and funnel cakes, I spotted in the distance a crowd herding into the gates of one of the stages. They looked like my type of people, fellow rock fans, so I dragged my family over, flashed our passes and wriggled our way through the crowd to get as close to the stage as possible. I followed the lead of some of the concertgoers and stood on the bench for a better view, leaving my family to stand in the crowded area and wait until the show that they wouldn't have cared for ended. The banner onstage read "The Joy Formidable", so I expected a quasi-goth punk band with brightly-colored Mohawk hair and zipper piercings. What do I see enter the stage but three of the most normal-looking people ever, and one of them was this pixie of a woman in a floral blouse and flowy pleated skirt. She, Ritzy, was tiny compared to her fellow bandmates, and her British accent (which I had learned later was actually Welsh) came out in a soft lilt. But the stage was bathed in blue light, Ritzy picked up a guitar that ws half her height, and when her fingers wove those first few riffs, I lost my breath I was so enthralled. It was dreamy. It was whimsical. It was hypnotic. Listening to the songs felt like I was listening to a story come to life, and watching Ritzy hop across the stage was like I was in a party. I committed the band's name to memory because I was going to listen to all of their songs when I went home, and hold on to the feeling of being young and alive and that the world is mine. The Joy Formidable was a whole new world for me.

As a Communications and Media major who is also an affiliate marketer, I understand that for any goal to be achieved, and for any campaign to succeed, the key component is messaging. A message can make or break a campaign, can draw or repel potential supporters, can build a community or drive people against each other. Marketing isn’t just for corporate use; it can also be a tool to make positive social change. As an activist, I recognize marketing as a tool to drive human rights activism and environmentalism; one of my focuses in my college studies is environmental science so I can better understand one of my passions, and to help educate my fellow community members about climate change and how to protect the ecosystem. But I know that it cannot end at environmentalism, though environmentalism, racism, and class inequality are all interconnected. My community needs to know about their rights and their options, to learn about pathways to building a better life. Marketing, and the messaging element this field provides, can be a tool for education. Marketing can educate people about causes they need to support, such as Black Girl Code, a nonprofit organization that provides computer programming education to Black and other girls of color; or inform them about brands that give back to the community and uphold sustainable business practices, such as Hand in Hand Soap, a company that donates soap and water to impoverished children in Africa. Even now, I am participating in marketing, informing readers about organizations and companies that I support. I know that marketing has helped me grow into the person that I am today. I was an inner-city youth who lived in poverty, and thus would not have afforded enriching opportunities like fellow teens who have greater wealth. Because of that, I am grateful for the many free programs I could have and did participate in, such as poetry club and competitions provided by my local library, and the anime club hosted by my community center. These have kept me off the streets and out of trouble and have driven me to pursue more. I would not have learned about programs like these if it weren’t for the flyers posted on walls, or the posts on social media platforms. Marketing, in this case, was used as a form of outreach, and it is the type of work I would like to be a part of. When I receive my degree, I would like to work with organizations that I believe in, to aid in their outreach by aggressively and compassionately advertising their missions to people who need it most. I want to inform people about educational opportunities or educate them about environmental racism and how to fight back. I want to market fellowships to people who have creative potential that would have otherwise been untapped, and work to raise funds for these organizations so they may continue to help the community. In five years, I would work hard to use marketing as a tool to uplift the marginalized.

I hold a very special place in my heart for Fooly Cooly. I still remember the first time I've watched it: seven years old, sneaking in some television time long past midnight, and tuning in to Adult Swim. At the time, I was too young to understand the depth and intricacies of the plot: I simply saw a pink-haired loud-mouthed girl swinging her guitar like a battle axe (and some highly inappropriate sensual scenes). Of course, as I grew older and kept revisiting the show, I've learned to appreciate the themes interwoven into the story: the awkwardness of puberty, the yearning for a type of love you don't understand, seeing the world for what it truly is. Although I was too young to even be able to watch the show, I felt connected to the main protagonist, Naota, in that we've shared a feeling of being mature for our age, which is a delusion and naivete that I look fondly back on. Adding to the melancholic theme is the soundtrack the producers used. All of the songs used in the show were written by The Pillows, a Japanese math rock band that helped cement Fooly Cooly as a cult classic with their tunes. Like back then, I still do not know most of the lyrics to the song, as most of them are written in Japanese (thank goodness for the heroes who've posted the translations online), but the sound is so nostalgic, feeling very 1990s and 2000s in the best way. I am especially attached to "Hybrid Rainbow", a song that is so nostalgic, reminiscent of slow summers, child-like wonder, emotions bigger than your body can hold or your vocabulary can describe, and looking forward to the next day. All of these elements tie together into a six-episode series that manages to be so impactful, in how it feels like you're saying goodbye to your childhood.

There is an anology called the "boiling frog", that somewhat applies to my childhood: as a child, the struggles I, my mother, and my three siblings lived were so normalized that we hadn't given it much of a thought. It is only now, decades later and removed from some of the hardship, that I can look back on my childhood as an adult and see it for the pot of boiling water that it was. My family was beyond poor; we were destitute, and destitution is a thief that robs families like mine much of the basic necessities and stability many other people would take for granted. My family was chronically homeless -- it would seem that as soon as we found a place to live, we were evicted a few months later, scrambling to secure beds in homeless shelters and fighting to keep whatever valuables we had left. We couldn't afford bus fare, which was a problem for myself, the only child who relied on public transportation to get to school; every week, my "truancy points" would stack up, and I was often called into detention due to being forced to skip days. For food, we were lucky that we had some resources to rely on, such as food stamps, food drives, free lunches, and summer meal programs at local churches and community day camp. The most egregious aspect of being a child of a single mother is that, because my mother worked long hours and slept whenever she could, there was hardly anyone there to protect us. Unfortunately, I was the easiest child for men, both a family member and my mother's partner, to prey on. This was all normal for me; this was my childhood. But now that I am out of that boiling pot, I can see how much damage I had taken, how much hurt I carry. I cannot lie: I am a broken person. I have anxiety and depressive disorders; I had developed defensive eating habits that contribute to my body image issues; I am an asocial person who finds it challenging to open up and grow close to people. I had even been hospitalized twice for breaking down, and the shadows of those hospitalizations still loom over me, the fear that I may return. But I'm still here, which is the most incredible thing that shocks me. I'm still here, unpacking the trauma with therapists and putting back together the broken pieces of myself, holding on long enough to return to school and work for the career I've always dreamed of. Being the child of a single mother made me self-reliant and introspective, a hard worker who's resourceful and knows how to survive. Mostly being a child of a single mother shaped me into a person who seeks happiness and light through the darkest days.

I admit that this isn't my first round in academia. After graduating high school ten years ago, I had struggled to stay in college; partly because of finances and transportation, partly mental illness, I found that I couldn't make it in class or keep up with assignments. So, after being enrolled in school on and off for years, I had quit. I had resigned myself to living a life as a college dropout, suffering the mountainous student debt that I've accumulated for nothing. But I hadn't resigned myself to that life, as I had learned. Every time I had looked back on my previous college experience, I remember how I felt joy and potential, that I was building a future for myself, giving myself a chance to break out of the cycle of poverty that my family was in. I would think about the opportunities I had deprived myself of by giving up my college dreams: studying abroad, networking, internships, skills. Try as I might to put that behind me, some part of me clung to that, knowing that I was destined for more. Then, my niece was born, and I knew then that I have to break the cycle to give her, and myself, another chance. Returning to my studies meant that I had to reexamine my needs, limitations, and goals. Due to transportation limitation, I knew that I had to take most of my classes online, which worked out well because it reduced the severity of my anxiety symptoms. When I had first entered college, I had wanted to study Graphic Design, but the time away from school allowed me to both observe the job market and my strengths as an artist versus other graphic designers, after which I had changed course to a field that I am stronger in: communication and writing. Being an older student meant that I had matured enough to truly buckle down and work hard to earn my degree, which had worked out so well: I had recently transferred out of my previous school, Minneapolis College, with an associate's degrre in Communication Studies, and am on my way to graduating with my bachelor's degree. As a non-traditional student, I had come to a point in my life where I both know what I want to do in life and as for a career, and realize that nothing is set in stone. When I had studied potential majors to study, I was drawn to communication because, as vague as it is as a field, it opens many doors for me. I do want to work in publishing, especially small, independent ones that amplified voices of the marginalized, but why stop there? I can be a representative for an environmental justice organization, or a social media manager for a trendy small business. Most importatnly, being a non-traditional student means that I can be a role model for my niece, to teach her to keep trying no matter what and to never settle for less.

If I could have everyone in the world read just one book, it would be "Gideon the Ninth" by Tamsyn Muir. I wish that the world would read the entire Locked Tomb series, this tale of the end of the world and the desperate attempt to keep humanity alive, but "Gideon the Ninth" is an incredible read alone. The book is like cake: Muir has created layers of plot and depth in her futuristic and solemn necromantic world, weaving in Biblical and Māori references gleaned from her upbringing. There are so many characters to fall in love with, from the foul-mouthed titular underdog Gideon, to the brooding and devout Harrowhark, to the avuncular and cheery Magnus. As a story that starts out as a fun bit of dinner theatre, it soon becomes this dark, twisted, mind-blowing tale of space colonialism and megalomania, with a writing style to match. But the most incredible thing about this book? Is that it is silly. Muir, with her Shakespearean-like prose, expert worldbuilding, and expansive lore, took the pretensions of "high literature" and turned it on its head. Memes and inside fandom jokes abound in this book, and that foul-mouthed Gideon has more dirty jokes than a seasoned sailor. It would be the type of book that William Shakespeare, with his love of genital humor and talks about horniness, would fawn over. In this way, it is accessible to even non-readers intimidated by lengthy books. "Gideon the Ninth" is such a dense book that is rich with incredible plot, insight, and a creative blend of science fiction and supernatural horror that is out of this world.