Minecraft's Peaceful Mode provides a unique and serene experience within the vast and dynamic world of the game. As a player, my favorite aspect revolves around the tranquility and creative freedom it offers, allowing me to delve into the game without the constant threat of hostile mobs and environmental challenges. The Peaceful Mode in Minecraft strips away the dangers posed by creatures like zombies, skeletons, and creepers. This alteration transforms the game into a peaceful and contemplative space, where the focus shifts from survival to unrestricted creativity. The absence of aggressive mobs not only eliminates the need for constant vigilance but also fosters a more relaxed and immersive atmosphere. What resonates deeply with me in Peaceful Mode is the opportunity to engage in unbridled exploration and construction. Without the looming threat of adversaries, I can leisurely traverse the diverse landscapes, appreciating the natural beauty of the pixelated world. The lush biomes, cascading waterfalls, and expansive cave systems become an inviting canvas for creative expression. Building takes center stage in Peaceful Mode, allowing players to channel their imagination without interruption. In peaceful mode, I am only bound by my ability to gather materials. This freedom encourages me to focus on intricate architectural designs, expansive landscapes, and elaborate redstone contraptions without the need for constant defense mechanisms. The tranquility of Peaceful Mode also provides a meditative escape. The gentle sounds of nature, from the rustling leaves to the flowing water, create a soothing backdrop for contemplation. This mode becomes a virtual sanctuary, a space where I can unwind and let my mind wander. Moreover, Peaceful Mode serves as an excellent introduction to Minecraft for newcomers or those who prefer a more relaxed gaming experience. It allows players to familiarize themselves with the game mechanics, resource gathering, and crafting without the added stress of combat. This gentle introduction can be a gateway for individuals to discover the joy of creation within the Minecraft universe. In conclusion, the Peaceful Mode in Minecraft has a profound impact on players who seek a different dimension within the game. Its emphasis on creativity, exploration, and tranquility resonates deeply with those who appreciate the beauty of the virtual world. Whether constructing monumental structures or simply enjoying the serene landscapes, Peaceful Mode offers a unique and cherished experience within the ever-expanding realm of Minecraft.

Of all of the things in my life I thought would antagonize me the most, a broken projector was not one of them. To this day, movie theatres and class presentations haunt me. The thin blue stream of light that illuminates all of the dust in the air remains invisible to others, but it is the first thing I notice when I walk into a room. I'm fourteen, entrusted with my first big task in life. I was to work a projector for my school play. A huge honor, perhaps the biggest of my life. It seemed all too simple. "All you do is push buttons," a cast mate told me. I took her words at face value and assumed this would be easy. Suddenly, I'm in one of those old TV shows where everything keeps going wrong no matter what I do. I half-expect Rod Serling to come over the loudspeaker and narrate a tale of how I was in a simulation that had glitched in the classic Twilight Zone style. The computer screen? Frozen. The projector? Glitched and turned itself off. The screen? Fell off of its hinges. The more I tried to fix it, the worse it got. I wish I could say I was the projector whisperer, and that I figured it out in the end. I don't want to lie to you, though. It did, strangely, work at the competitions. As if the spirit of competition breathed life into the machine whose only purpose was to torment me. It felt like when you have to do a group project with someone who hates you, but they end up pulling their weight. My mortal enemy. My worst fear. This was four years ago and I still shake at the thought. Who could have crafted such a perfect tale? Man versus machine, the groundwork for a thrilling political narrative, if political narratives tended to focus on the emotions of teenage girls. This projector haunts me forever. I was forced to listen to recollections of our storied past together at my graduation events. At first, I cringed, but I began to look at it with more empathy than I had before. I began to understand the desire to work according to my own jurisdiction. To not have to listen to others. I realize- I looked up to this projector who taunted me. I admired it. The hardest lesson you have to learn is that you don't have to please everybody. The lesson came out of the mouth of my mother a hundred times and never sank below the surface of my skin. But one projector? One slab of metal? It changed my life. Of all of the relationships in my life, I am the most grateful for that projector. I lovingly named her Penny, because I truly believe that is how much money she was worth. I love Penny with all of my heart, and I always will.

Living on my own in the city in a 190 square foot apartment taught me many important lessons, like to never hop on an empty subway train and that it is cheaper to make your own coffee. Perhaps the most important lesson it taught me was that abundance was a mindset. When I left for school, I was overwhelmed by how much I was leaving behind. I figured I would have to have my parents ship me half of my wardrobe and my makeup, but what seemed like so little ended up filling my whole apartment. I ended up getting rid of a lot of stuff, which I hardly miss, and was overwhelmed to bring it back home. I went from feeling like I didn’t have enough to bringing van-fulls of stuff to the Goodwill. In learning that abundance is a mindset, I found joy in my everyday. I find joy in knowing that I have many options when I go to make tea, and when I discover that my parents remembered not only to bring home oat milk but what brand I like as well. I have so much, and that is a lot to be thankful for. When detaching oneself from materialism, pleasure comes from experiences. For Christmas rather than ask for clothes I asked my parents for a trip. I enjoy going on walks with my dog and listening to music, and have found myself forgetting to see if my outfit is appealing. Enjoyment is also a mindset. I went from hating picking up after my dog to enjoying the new routes I take him on. I have abandoned bitter, and fell in love with my life.

My favorite movie has always been Meet The Robinsons, primarily for the score and iconic line “keep moving forward.” That mantra got me through countless hardships, broken relationships, and academic setbacks. No matter my circumstances, I learned to keep moving forward. Because of this, I have always been more focused on my goals, however I am eternally stuck in an endless cycle of working for my next goal. I have had to put my academics on pause so I can work to afford an exciting opportunity, in addition to focusing on my mental health. While I find value in this time to myself, I long for stability in my life, to where “moving forward” doesn't feel as stuck. Whether it is financial stability, or emotional stability, to exist in a state where I am only bound by my motivation would allow me to dream bigger and work harder. I desire a life where I can always move forward, and never have to put my life on pause for circumstances I can control.

A man in a food truck changed my perspective of life forever through one act of compassion. I saw the truck on my way to the grocery store and I decided to grab a coffee. The man who took my order was incredibly kind and gave my coffee every ounce of effort throughout our interaction. “I’m sorry we don’t take cards.” Almost nowhere in the city took cash anymore so I never carried cash. I told him I didn't have any and I tried to hand him my drink back, but he refused. I took my coffee to the closest ATM and grabbed a twenty and ran back to pay the man. I assumed this was what he assumed would happen, but he seemed genuinely shocked. He assumed he wouldnt be paid, and he was content with giving me the coffee anyways. This simple act of kindness shook me to my core. A man in a remarkably underpaid profession was prepared to take a hit to profits for the sake of my own convenience. I wanted to somehow help him and give him a raise. I thought about this interaction for months after. It was so bizarre that he had such an effect on me, until I realized everyone does. While he was a kinder interaction, I remember most of my cashier interactions, compliments, insults, and kind nods from strangers. Everyone I have ever met has touched my life in some way, some larger than others, and I value that so much. I want to help everyone I meet. My truest passion, the passion all other passions stem from and work for, are people.

I once asked what coconut milk was used for, and had two different men give me monologues at the same time about the use of such. I always assumed the biggest issue with that was that I never communicated with them that I could in no way understand them if they were speaking at the same time. As I grew older, I realized that if they weren't listening to each other enough to realize they were talking over each other, they wouldn't have listened to me. I did not learn anything about the nature of coconut milk that day, but I did learn to sometimes take a step back and take a break from talking and rather engage in active listening. The first step to listening is to care. If I find myself indifferent on the subject, I ask myself why I feel that way. Through re-evaluation I find empathy for my peers who wish to share the details of their thanksgiving with me or I am reminded of the importance of my education, even in the most boring of circumstances. Another key lesson I learned from the "Coconut Milk Incident of 2014" was that many people around me have stories and wisdom to share with the world. Both men, determined to share their stories, were driven by the desire to pass on knowledge to me. While in other circumstances, the knowledge may seem more personal such as that my friend has a strained relationship with her family. This category of knowledge aids in how we understand each other. Listening broadens our understanding of the world, both with our surroundings as well as the people that fill it.

“Well I had to suffer through this ordeal, so why should I care about giving future generations an alternative?” I’ve heard that argument used against countless movements for which I stand: affordable college, lowering voting ages, and so on. I would like to point out that if humanity always kept this mentality, then we would never progress in other ways. “Well I had to suffer through cooking stew over a campfire, so why would I care about something called an indoor stove?” The best gift we can give to this world is a better future, and that means addressing the issues that face us now. Whether we are discussing imminent threats or more abstract issues, the most important thing we can do is listen and care. Without empathy, the world is a darker place. I plan on solving problems I have the power to solve and advocating for the people who will face those problems when I no longer have to. Through listening and empathy, we can grow together, not apart.

I began to cook for myself regularly when I decided to give up meat for lent in the seventh grade. I knew how to cook before that. It was a skill my parents relentlessly pushed on my sisters and I. I had the basic knowledge of what vegetarianism meant: no meat, but cheese and eggs were okay. However, I had no idea the six year journey that was in store for me. I quickly went from eating (or rather, gagging up) raw, soggy tofu to preparing my own spaghetti sauce with peppers, a food I previously despised, and all the spices I could get my hands on. During some of the most crucial years of my development I was not only learning life skills that would carry me all the way up to my first year living alone, but I was fueling my body with good food and I was measurably more energetic than my peers. Environmentalism did not cross my scope of understanding until the following year. I was merely 13 and had only ever heard the term “global warming” in political conversations, which I did not yet understand much of, so I tuned it all out. I was already keen on recycling and I generally didn't buy that many clothes, but I was shocked to learn that the best way to reduce your carbon emissions was to consume less meat. I had partially returned to omnivorous ways; eating chicken when my parents made it but not much else. Upon learning that returning to vegetarianism would benefit my efforts towards environmental preservation, I became the self-sufficient herbivore I was a year prior. Throughout high-school, and in many ways still to this day, I cycled through vegetarian, vegan, and plant based diets. Moving to New York City was eye opening to me, to say the least. Coming from a suburb, my choices on what vegetables to buy at my local grocery store were limited to organic and standard. I knew about DDTs, courtesy of science and Joni Mitchell, and tried to buy organic when I could. It wasn't until the first farmers market outside of my apartment that I gave much thought to where my produce came from. “Locally grown” signs flooded the stands run by people who worked all week on farms an hour away. I went weekly because the vendors were kind and took up in polite conversation with me, making them considerably more entertaining than the workers at the grocery store down the street. One older man in birkenstocks overheard me express interest in the locality of the food. “Its way better for the environment.” “How so?” “Less energy to get the food here. They don’t have to worry about shelf-life either. Plus, these guys are better about using more ethical practices.” Ever since that day I prepared my food consumption around the farmers market’s schedule. I get some of my friends to join me some weeks, and they have all fallen in love with it the same as I. My father always told me growing up “you also vote with your money.” As a broke college kid in a city with eight million people, it is easy to feel powerless. However, I know that by spreading information and ensuring my money goes to environmentally friendly and ethical, locally sourced food is voting for a future with more of that and less artificial foods taking over not just my pantry, but also America.

I have always loved history class, and I find solace in learning about the lives of the people who came before me and how they carried themselves and overcame their tough circumstances. Eugene Debs' story especially stuck out to me in one of the most fascinating and unique ways. I first heard of him as the guy who ran for president five times, and vividly recall my history teacher stating "poor guy; loosing five times must mess a man up. I would have gave up." All I knew about Debs was his persistence, although my notes recalled his stance on socialism scribbled in the margins on my paper. At first his failure resonated with me, as I had often fallen short of my goals and ambitions, whether by my own wrongdoings or what I so lovingly refer to as the magic of fate. I thought about how he put in all that work just to fail in the end. Honestly, it was discouraging. How can a person spend their whole life dedicated to one thing and fail? Throughout a few days of reflecting and further studies on Debs, like his role in the infamous supreme court case Debs v. United States in 1919, and realized his impact is much more than what meets the eye. His writings about the draft not only pushed the United States to further define espionage and the role of freedoms in wartime, but also have been used in movements to abolish the draft for years to follow. I was so caught up in pitying Debs' failure that I personally failed to recognize that he was incredibly successful in so many other ways. Success does not fail those who work hard, but often has other ideas about the reward.

My favorite book found me my freshman year of high school in the form of a random assigned reading for my english class. Animal Farm by George Orwell features an overthrown farm run by animals serving as an allegory for the Soviet Union. I read the rather short book in one sitting, finding obvious allusions to Stalin and the communist party. Like most people, I cried over the death of Boxer, which I had managed to read for the first time while waiting for my peers to finish their standardized tests. When I went home that day, my parents expected me to be complaining about my three-hour long test, and instead I cried over a book for a few more hours. While I spewed my feelings for a dead-horse, I slowly began to verbalize realizations that I would have for the first time in my life about the exploitation of the working class, the establishment, and the role of the endlessly obedient servant. I drew parallels to other historical events as well as my own family and eventually my own life. While Animal Farm is at the forefront an allegory to the Soviet Union, it was a devastating tale about corruption. Even further, it touched on issues in my own life because of its wide appeal and relatability. Four years later, this book still lives in a special place in my heart. It was the first time a book ever got me thinking on a deeper level than my English teacher asked me to, and it was the first time I realized why books are so important. Everyone's own story contributes to what they understand about and learn from fictional stories. We may not have all lived through the Cold War, but we have all faced corruption in our lives.

The greatest inspiration in my life is to give back to the communities that have poured into me. I am driven by the idea of giving back to people who have helped shaped me into the person I am now. My parents sold their first house to move to a neighborhood where I could thrive for high school. It is my goal to one day repay them for their hard work and sacrifice by helping them in their retirement. They value adventure more than anyone I've ever met and have taught me to love my environment and the adventures it brings me. Growing up in the suburbs around Chicago, I grew up in the epicenter of small businesses. A Greek restaurant a mile from my house knew my father's name, usual order, and were some of the first people to congratulate him on his promotion. My hairdresser took over to watch me on a moments notice when my parents had to fly halfway across the country to be with my ill grandmother. A small coffee shop down the street took in my mother and I for a few hours every weekend and let us try new flavors of teas and scones. These communities helped shaped me into the person I am today and hold the values I do. It is so easy to get caught up in the convenience of chains restaurants and online shopping, but nothing matches the energy of the one-on-one connection with people who dedicate their entire lives to their passions and risk everything to pursue it. I believe it is our jobs to make the world we live in a better place, and that the best way to do that is to pour your energy and time into the people that value you.

As a child, my parents encouraged me to speak up for my feelings. My first experience with using my voice for change was when I felt our school playground equipment was unsafe, and I wrote a letter to the principal about how I, a third-grader at the time, felt about the situation and suggested that the school host a fundraiser for a new playground. I received a response that “Thinking like mine would pave the way for the next generation". Yet, they took no action on the playground. This experience was the stepping stone for the countless emails, letters, and phone calls I would make to my local elected officials throughout the next nine years. Through this experience, I learned that my voice was reaching people. They heard me yet refused to listen. I could not believe that leaders would refuse to listen to their people. I remembered a quote from the late Mahatma Gandhi who called on us to “be the change you wish to see in the world", and I realized that if I care so about all of these issues, I need to be on the front line fighting for these things, and that is exactly what I began to do. The issues I see in the world are far from few. With every minor issue I hear about, I think about the system that allowed things to manifest into that situation. Systemic racism and poverty are the two issues I feel the most passionately about and dedicate my life into ending. As a lower middle class white person, I feel as if I am in a position of privilege to amplify the voices of those who are hurting because of systems designed to silence them. My only goal through all of this is to help create a conversation that those people are a part of. I've attended protests and rallies and donated to politicians who are dedicated to solving these issues and listening to those voices. Protests are an eye-opening experience. This past June, I attended protests for the Black Lives Matter movement. I had spent much of my time attempting to listen and share what I had been hearing from the silenced black voices, but the protest was the first time that I stood side by side and fought with them and I heard exactly what they were fighting for and why. That day, I stepped aside and allowed BIPOC to lead the conversation and I was educated by those who live their lives stuck in these issues I can conveniently forget about when I wish to. I stood with them, and I have never felt that community in any other moment of my life. These issues are far from solved. I decided I would study political science to be that change I wanted to see. I want to work in city government and I want to be a leader who listens to its people. I want to attend rallies and protests while in office and be educated on the ways that the people are hurting and how it can be fixed. I do believe a lot of the issues in this world can be fixed, but the people that benefit from them are the ones with the power to fix them. This country is far from perfect, and it is the duty of the people to call out the problems we are having. Living in denial is no solution, and the more we get uncomfortable and recognize our flaws, the better we can become.

I have spent the past three years learning American sign language. I began working on this skill when I made a new friend who was partially deaf and communicated more comfortably with American sign language. Sarah taught me many skills for communicating with her, and throughout our friendship I gained the base skills necessary to communicate with American sign language. Unfortunately, in recent months, I have not been able to continue my education in sign language and have, in turn, lost a majority of my skills. Upon loosing my knowledge, I began to realize just how important those skills were, as so many people have no other way of basic communication. I may have the choice to learn American sign language, but for so many it is an essential form of communication that people refuse to learn out of ignorance. I wish to continue my education of American sign language and I would use the grant money to pay for a sign language tutor. I truly believe that this skill will benefit my community once mastered, and I think that there is no better skill for one to master.

My perspective on life changed forever the day the projector first stopped working. “Projector!” was never a phrase I thought would bring so many memories, both good and painful, and yet that word single-handedly floods me with a melancholic feeling. Every member of my immediate and extended family performed at some point in their lives, so one could say I came by live theatre naturally. My excitement when I was trusted to be a member of the run crew for my school’s one-act traveling competition was unmatched. I had become close with my director in a matter of weeks, and she trusted me enough to be in charge of the projector. Our show was a heart-wrenching tale of a young boy with autism who had to uncover secrets within his family, and our use of the projector helped the audience be able to visualize what the young boy was thinking. I was ecstatic to be able to help tell a wonderful story in such a big way, especially as a dorky sophomore. The first rehearsal with the projector I will never forget. Our technical director walked me through how to turn on the projector and how to connect it to our presentation with the slides, so naturally I felt like an expert. We ran the set construction only to see a giant “error” message on the screen. Immediately, I went to work trying to fix it as quickly as possible, embarrassed beyond compare. I spent about twenty minutes doing everything in my power to get the projector to work, only to have no luck. All of my cast and crew-mates had gathered around me, all feeling particularly anxious, occasionally calling out suggestions that I had tried ten minutes ago. This incident was the first in a long line of issues with our projector, from it randomly turning off to ports becoming jammed beyond use. Over the two months I had to work it, I had downloaded the user manual to my laptop and had it open at the beginning of every rehearsal because I knew it would cause issues, and it did. The projector became the running joke of our show, and in order to make me irritated, cast-mates would call out “projector!” in the hallway as I passed. Over those two months, I had put blood sweat and tears into that small machine, only for it to fully work only two times. Those two times I was so shocked I cried, and my crew-mates hugged me out of relief. Those hugs meant more to me than I could ever express to them. By the end of my time at that show, I had learned something that would stick with me for the rest of high school- sometimes you can do your best and no one is able to see, but you should always do your best. To the audience's perspective, we had a failing projector, but I am able to look back on this experience and know that I gave that show my all, and I left it a better person and technician. While it took me leaving rehearsals in tears to learn this lesson, I am beyond glad I did, as I was able to look at life with a new outlook. Once I stopped doing things for results, I was able to re-center my attention on the things that I feel to be important. My grades rose as I went from trying to get an A to actually showing an interest in the things I was learning. Everything became less about competition and more about making sure I always put my best effort in. I've learned that giving it your all is the greatest form of success, and rewards are just other people’s ability to recognize your effort.

As a child, my parents encouraged me to speak up for my feelings. My first experience with using my voice for change was when I felt our school playground equipment was unsafe, and I wrote a letter to the principal about how I, a third-grader at the time, felt about the situation and suggested that the school host a fundraiser for a new playground. I received a response that “Thinking like mine would pave the way for the next generation". Yet, they took no action on the playground. This experience was the stepping stone for the countless emails, letters, and phone calls I would make to my local elected officials throughout the next nine years. My life changed with the shooting at Parkland High School on February 14, 2018. I remember leaving school that day with a pit in my stomach and feeling far less safe in my school. I immediately emailed the Governor of Georgia, Nathan Deal, begging for some kind of action. I listed every school shooting in the previous years. I poured all my fear into this email. Once again, I received no response. I sent copies of that email to the Chairman of Gwinnett County, my mayor, my Senator, and my Congressman. The only response came from my mayor, ​Jimmy Burnette, who responded exactly as my principal had. At that moment, I learned that my voice was reaching people. They heard me yet refused to listen. I could not believe that leaders would refuse to listen to their people. I remembered a quote from the late Mahatma Gandhi who called on us to “be the change you wish to see in the world", and I realized that if I care so about all of these issues, I need to be on the front line fighting for these things. I want to not only enact change but to become a leader who listens to the people. It is for those reasons I desire to study political science.

Growing up in a lower middle class family, we would use Amazon for everything. It was usually cheaper, and mostly it was convenient. As I began to enter my way into the world of independence I began to understand why my parents did this. Mostly out of convenience, I got everything from big-brand stores. Through social media, I began to discover small business and the wonderful, high quality goods that they had to offer. The more small businesses I discovered, the more I discovered about how hard it is for small companies to compete with bigger businesses. I felt compelled to begin to buy from smaller businesses to support the hard-working people who run them, however I fell back into the scheme of the convenience of big businesses. I want to create a way to make the smaller businesses more convenient so they aren't always falling in the shadow of large corporations. Truthfully, this creation came to me in a dream one night. The idea is that there is a search engine that gives you products made by small businesses, ranging from 0-5000 sales per year. The website would provide a hyperlink to the business’ website as well as reviews of the products. I became more passionate about this idea the more I thought about it. My dad and I would go out to independently owned restaurants in the area and I thought about how I could help these businesses beyond a quick review that would once again get hidden underneath the fast-food restaurants that come up when you search for “food near me.” My passion for this project has not dimmed, and I plan on completing the design within the next month. I want people to see this creation and be inspired to support small business owners who are struggling to make ends meet.