Growing up in a single-parent household has shaped me in ways I did not always recognize when I was younger. There have definitely been challenges, but they have also taught me to be independent, responsible, and appreciative of the sacrifices that are made for me. Having one parent means that sometimes there is only one person trying to handle everything. There have been times when schedules were difficult, finances had to be considered more carefully, or my parent simply could not be in two places at once. As I have gotten older, I have become more aware of how much work goes into making sure I have the opportunities I do. Instead of focusing on what I might not have, I have learned to appreciate what I have been given and to make the most of it. Sports have been a huge part of helping me develop that mindset, especially tennis and dance. Tennis has taught me how to depend on myself. When I step onto the court, especially during a singles match, I cannot look to someone else to fix my mistakes. If I lose a point or have a bad game, I have to reset mentally and keep going. I have learned that one mistake does not have to determine what happens next. Tennis has made me mentally stronger and taught me how important it is to stay focused, even when things are not going my way. Dance has impacted me in a different but equally important way. Dance has taught me discipline, confidence, teamwork, and self-expression. It takes hours of practice to make something look effortless on stage. There have been times when I struggled with choreography, compared myself to other dancers, or became frustrated when I could not master something right away. Dance taught me that improvement takes patience and that being challenged does not mean I should quit. Both tennis and dance have also given me a sense of belonging. Practices, competitions, performances, teammates, coaches, and instructors have introduced me to people who have supported me and pushed me to become better. They have given me places where I can focus on something I love and temporarily forget about whatever else may be stressful in my life. As a senior, I can look back and see how these experiences connect. Growing up in a single-parent household taught me independence and gratitude. Tennis taught me resilience and how to recover from mistakes. Dance taught me discipline, confidence, and the importance of working with others. I know there will be challenges after high school that I cannot predict. I also know I will not always succeed on my first attempt. But my experiences have taught me that I can adjust, work harder, and keep moving forward. I would not change the path that brought me here because it has helped make me determined, grateful, and ready for whatever comes next.

Dance has been a part of my life for so long that it is hard to imagine who I would be without it. What started as something I enjoyed doing became something that shaped my confidence, work ethic, friendships, and the way I handle challenges. Dance has taught me that improvement does not happen overnight. It comes from showing up, putting in the work, and continuing even when you are frustrated with yourself. One of the biggest lessons dance has taught me is discipline. There are days when I am tired, stressed about school, or simply do not feel like going to practice. But once I walk into the studio, I know I have a responsibility to myself and to the people dancing beside me. I have learned that being part of a team means other people are depending on you. You cannot always give up just because something becomes difficult. Dance has also taught me how to deal with failure. There have been plenty of times when I could not get a combination right, struggled with a new skill, or compared myself to another dancer who seemed to make everything look effortless. When I was younger, those moments could make me question whether I was good enough. As I have gotten older, I have realized that struggling with something does not mean I cannot do it. Sometimes it just means I have not learned how to do it yet. That mindset has followed me outside of dance. Whether I am working on a difficult assignment, preparing for a test, or dealing with something personal, I am more willing to keep trying instead of immediately becoming discouraged. Dance taught me to accept corrections, learn from mistakes, and understand that being uncomfortable is sometimes part of getting better. The studio has also become a place where I can be completely myself. Dance gives me a way to express emotions that I might not always know how to explain with words. No matter what kind of day I am having, I can walk into the studio, turn on the music, and focus on something I love. Some of my strongest friendships and favorite memories have come from dance because of the hours we have spent practicing, laughing, performing, and supporting each other. Now, as a senior in high school, I realize that dance has given me much more than the ability to perform. It has helped shape the person I am becoming. I am more confident, determined, responsible, and willing to challenge myself because of it. As I prepare for the next chapter of my life, I know I will carry these lessons with me. I may not always be standing on a stage, but the discipline, confidence, friendships, and resilience I developed through dance will continue to influence how I approach my future. Dance is not just something I do. It has become a part of who I am.

The “Mad Genius” mascot is designed to capture the spirit of bold creativity, playful chaos, fun spirit and fearless experimentation that defines the brand. I chose a high energy, cartoon style scientist character with crazy colors because it immediately communicates curiosity, invention, and a willingness to push boundaries. The exaggerated features, including the oversized goggles and wide, expressive smile, make the character feel approachable, memorable, and engaging, especially for a younger audience. I can see this character on adds and even as a stuffed animal character. The wild, multicolored hair is a key visual element that represents unconventional thinking and the idea that great ideas can come from embracing randomness and creativity. The mismatched goggles reinforce this concept by symbolizing a unique perspective, as if the character sees flavors and combinations in a completely different way than everyone else. The lab coat, splattered with bright colors, reflects experimentation and trial and error, showing that innovation can be messy but exciting. The graffiti inspired background and bold typography were intentional choices to give the design an edgy, rebellious feel. This connects directly to the brand’s mission of breaking traditional food rules and creating unexpected mashups. The use of bright neon colors helps create energy and excitement, drawing the viewer in and reinforcing the idea of “mind melting” flavor experiences. Including the snack items within the composition was important to ground the character in the product itself. By having the mascot interact with or present these mashups, it reinforces the idea that the Mad Genius is the creator behind these bold combinations. Overall, the design balances chaos with clarity by combining energetic visuals with a friendly and approachable character. This ensures the mascot feels innovative and disruptive while still being relatable and fun. The result is a strong visual identity that reflects creativity, curiosity, and the joy of reimagining comfort food in unexpected ways.

Living with depression has shaped almost every part of who I am, even in ways I did not fully understand at first. As a 17 year old high school student, I used to think my biggest challenges would be things like grades, college applications, or friendships. I did not expect that something internal, something I could not always explain, would have such a strong impact on my goals, my relationships, and the way I see the world. When it comes to my goals, depression has changed both what I want and how I plan to get there. There was a time when my goals felt very surface level. I wanted good grades, acceptance into a good college, and a successful future, but I did not think deeply about what success actually meant to me. When I started struggling with depression, everything slowed down. Things that once felt easy suddenly took more effort, and that forced me to reflect on what really mattered. Because of that, my goals are now more personal and meaningful. I still care about doing well in school and going to college, but I also care about my well being and finding a path that allows me to feel fulfilled, not just accomplished. I want a future where I am not constantly overwhelmed or disconnected from my own life. I want to choose something that allows me to grow, feel purpose, and make a positive impact on others. Depression has made me realize that success is not just about achievements or titles, but about feeling stable, happy, and connected to what you are doing. It has also changed how I approach my goals. I used to think everything had to be done perfectly and on a strict timeline. Now I understand that progress does not always look perfect. Some days, just getting through the day is an accomplishment, and that is something I have learned to respect instead of criticize. I have become more patient with myself and more focused on consistency rather than perfection. That shift has made my goals feel more realistic and less overwhelming. My relationships have also been deeply shaped by my experience with depression. One of the hardest parts of dealing with it was feeling alone, even when I was surrounded by people. I got really good at hiding how I felt, which made it seem like everything was fine, but inside I felt disconnected. It created a distance between me and the people in my life, even if they did not realize it. Over time, I realized that keeping everything inside was not helping me. Opening up to people I trust was one of the hardest things I have ever done, but it also changed my relationships in a positive way. When I started being honest about what I was going through, I was surprised by how understanding and supportive people were. It made my relationships feel more real, because they were no longer based on just the version of me that I showed on the surface. Depression has also made me more aware of how important it is to have genuine connections. I value friendships where I can be myself, where I do not feel pressure to pretend everything is okay all the time. It has taught me to listen more, to be more present, and to support others in a deeper way. I think going through something difficult has made me more empathetic, because I understand what it feels like to struggle in ways that are not always visible. At the same time, it has helped me recognize the importance of boundaries. I have learned that it is okay to step back when I feel overwhelmed and to prioritize my mental health. That does not mean I care less about people, it just means I am learning how to take care of myself so I can show up better in my relationships. My understanding of the world has probably changed the most. Before, I think I saw things in a more simple and straightforward way. I assumed that if someone seemed okay, they probably were. Going through depression has shown me that there is often so much more happening beneath the surface. People carry things that you cannot always see, and that has made me more compassionate and less quick to judge. It has also changed how I view strength. I used to think strength meant always being confident, productive, and in control. Now I see strength as being able to keep going even when things feel heavy, asking for help when you need it, and being honest about your struggles. That kind of strength is quieter, but in many ways it feels more real. Depression has also made me more aware of how important mental health is, not just for me but for everyone. It is something that can affect anyone, regardless of how their life looks from the outside. Because of that, I want to be someone who helps reduce the stigma around it, whether that is through the way I talk about it or how I support others. Even though depression has been one of the hardest things I have dealt with, it has also shaped me into someone who is more self aware, more empathetic, and more intentional about the life I want to build. It has forced me to slow down, reflect, and grow in ways I probably would not have otherwise. I am still learning and still figuring things out, but I see things differently now. I understand that life is not just about achievements or appearances, but about how you feel, how you treat others, and how you take care of yourself along the way. Depression is a part of my story, but it does not define me. Instead, it has helped shape the person I am becoming, someone who values honesty, connection, and growth, even when things are not easy.

Hi, I’m a 17 year old high school student, and for a while now I’ve been dealing with depression. From the outside, my life probably looks pretty normal. I go to school, I spend time with friends, I keep up with my responsibilities, and I try to stay involved. But on the inside, things have not always felt that simple. Depression, for me, is not just feeling sad. It feels more like a constant weight that I carry around, even on days when nothing is technically wrong. There are times when it is really hard to find motivation to do things I used to enjoy. Getting out of bed, focusing in class, or even responding to messages can feel overwhelming, like everything takes more energy than I have. Sometimes I feel numb, like I am just going through the motions instead of actually experiencing my life. One of the hardest parts has been how invisible it is. People cannot always see what is going on, so I learned how to hide it. I would smile, laugh, and act like everything was fine, even when it wasn’t. Because of that, I often felt alone, like no one really understood what I was going through. I also put a lot of pressure on myself to keep everything together. I would tell myself that I should just push through it or that I did not have a reason to feel this way, which only made things harder. There were moments when it started to affect my confidence and how I saw myself. I would overthink small things, doubt my abilities, and feel like I was not doing enough, even when I was trying my best. It also made it harder to stay present, because my mind would get stuck in negative thoughts or worries about things I could not control. Over time, I realized that trying to handle everything on my own was not working. Opening up to people I trust was one of the hardest things I have done, but it also made a huge difference. Talking about how I felt helped me feel less alone and reminded me that there are people who care about me and want to support me. It did not fix everything, but it made things feel more manageable. I have also started to learn small ways to take care of myself. Some days that means pushing myself to get up and do what I need to do, and other days it means giving myself space to rest and reset. I am learning that it is okay to have difficult days and that I do not have to be perfect all the time. Even though depression has been a challenge, it has also taught me a lot. It has made me more aware of my emotions and more understanding of what others might be going through. I think it has helped me become more empathetic and more patient, both with other people and with myself. I am still figuring things out, and I know I have a lot to learn. Some days are harder than others, but I am trying to take things one step at a time. Depression is not something that defines me, but it is a part of my story. It has shaped me in ways that are difficult, but also in ways that have made me stronger and more self aware.

For a long time, I felt like I was carrying around a secret that was too big for me to hold. Realizing that I was part of the LGBTQIA+ community was not one clear moment. It was more like a slow understanding that something about me was different, and I did not know how people would react if I said it out loud. That uncertainty turned into fear, and that fear turned into anxiety. I kept thinking about all the worst case scenarios, like losing friends or disappointing my family, even though I did not have proof that would actually happen. There were so many moments where I almost said something but stopped myself. I would rehearse conversations in my head and then decide it was safer to stay quiet. It felt easier to hide than to risk everything changing. But at the same time, hiding who I was started to feel exhausting. It was like I was only letting people see part of me, and I knew I could not keep doing that forever. When I finally decided to come out, I was terrified. I remember my hands shaking and my heart racing, like I was about to step into something I could not take back. I expected things to feel awkward or different afterward. Instead, what I experienced was something I had not fully allowed myself to believe was possible. The people in my life listened. They cared. They told me they loved me, and that nothing about me had changed in a negative way. That moment shifted everything for me. All the fear and anxiety I had built up in my head did not match reality. Instead of losing people, I felt closer to them. Instead of being judged, I felt accepted. It made me realize how powerful support and understanding can be, especially when you have spent so much time preparing for the opposite. Being part of the LGBTQIA+ community has taught me a lot about courage. Not the kind that means you are never scared, but the kind where you do something even though you are scared. It has also made me more empathetic. I understand now how heavy it can feel to carry something inside you that you are afraid to share, and that has made me more aware of what others might be going through too. Now, I feel more comfortable being myself. I know that I am surrounded by people who accept me and love me for who I am. That does not mean the journey was easy, but it does mean it was worth it. Coming out did not just change how others see me, it changed how I see myself. I feel stronger, more confident, and more honest about who I am, and that is something I am really proud of.

Growing up in a single parent household has shaped not only who I am, but how I see my future. My mom has always been the one constant in my life. She works hard, sacrifices constantly, and somehow manages to carry the weight of everything on her own. Watching her do that has been both inspiring and motivating, but it has also made me understand how difficult it is to provide opportunities when you are doing it alone. My mom has always put me first. She made sure I had what I needed for school, encouraged me to stay focused, and reminded me that education is the path to something greater. Even on the days when she was clearly exhausted, she never let that stop her from supporting me. Whether it was helping me stay organized, pushing me to do my best, or simply reminding me that she believed in me, she has been the reason I have stayed committed to my goals. Because of her, going to college is not just something I want to do, it is something I feel responsible to achieve. I want to build a future that reflects the sacrifices she has made and shows that everything she has done was worth it. At the same time, I understand the financial reality of our situation. Paying for college is a major challenge when there is only one income supporting everything. My mom has done everything she can, but there are limits to what one person can carry. This scholarship would make a real difference in my life and in hers. It would ease the financial burden that comes with tuition, books, and living expenses, allowing me to focus more on my education instead of constantly worrying about how to afford it. It would also give my mom some relief, knowing that she does not have to take on even more stress to support my goals. More than that, this scholarship represents an opportunity. It is a chance for me to take the foundation my mom has built and turn it into something bigger. I plan to work hard in college, stay focused on my studies, and take advantage of every opportunity that comes my way. My goal is not only to succeed for myself, but to create a future where I can support my family and give back in the same way my mom has always given to me. Being raised by a single parent has taught me resilience, responsibility, and the importance of hard work. I have learned to value every opportunity and to never take anything for granted. This scholarship would not just help pay for college, it would help me continue the path that my mom started for me, one built on determination, sacrifice, and hope. With this support, I will be able to move forward with confidence, knowing that I am one step closer to achieving my goals and honoring everything my mom has done to help me get there.

I think the biggest thing I have learned from the books I have read is that there is no single right way to live your life, and that idea is both exciting and a little overwhelming. A lot of the stories I have read follow characters who start out unsure of themselves, but through challenges and difficult decisions, they begin to figure out who they are and what matters most to them. As a high school senior, that really connects with me because it often feels like there is pressure to already have everything planned out, even though most of us are still figuring things out. Another important lesson I have taken from reading is that failure is not the end of the story. In many books, the main character makes mistakes, sometimes really big ones, but those moments are what push them to grow and change. That has helped me realize that I do not need to be perfect or have all the answers right now. It is okay to take chances, try new things, and learn from experiences instead of being afraid to mess up. That mindset has made me feel more confident about stepping into the future, even if I am not completely sure where I am going yet. Reading has also taught me a lot about empathy. When you read stories from different perspectives, you get a glimpse into lives that are very different from your own. It helps you understand that everyone has their own struggles, fears, and motivations, even if you do not always see them on the surface. Because of that, I try to be more understanding and patient with people in my own life. As I get ready to meet new people in college and beyond, I think this is something that will really matter. All of these lessons have shaped my goals in a meaningful way. Instead of focusing only on having a specific job or achieving a certain level of success, I want to build a life that feels meaningful and fulfilling. I want to keep growing as a person, challenge myself, and find ways to have a positive impact on others. Of course, I still care about being successful, but I have learned that success can look different for everyone, and it does not have to follow one specific path. Overall, the books I have read have helped me become more open minded and less afraid of the unknown. They have shown me that life is not about having a perfect plan from the beginning, but about learning, adapting, and growing over time. Instead of feeling stressed about having everything figured out, I am starting to see my future as something I get to build step by step, and that is actually something I feel excited about.

There are certain people who pass through your life quietly but leave an echo that never fades. For me, that person was my high school music teacher, Mr. Masters. When I first walked into his classroom, I didn’t see myself as a musician. Music was just something I liked something that filled the background of my life but never felt like it belonged to me. I wasn’t the most confident student, and the idea of putting my voice out there felt intimidating, almost impossible. But Mr. Masters had a way of seeing something in people before they could see it in themselves. He didn’t just teach notes and rhythms; he taught belief. I remember the first time he asked me to sing solo. I hesitated, convinced I wasn’t good enough. But he didn’t push with pressure he encouraged with patience. “You don’t need to be perfect,” he told me. “You just need to be honest.” That moment stuck with me more than any lesson written on the board. Mr. Masters created a space where mistakes weren’t failures they were part of the process. He made music feel alive, personal, and meaningful. He showed me that music wasn’t about hitting every note perfectly; it was about telling a story, about expressing something real. For the first time, I started to believe that maybe my voice mattered. As the years went on, his influence grew beyond the classroom. He encouraged me to write not just lyrics, but pieces of myself. At first, it felt awkward and vulnerable, but he reminded me that the best songs come from truth. Slowly, I found my voice not just as a singer, but as a storyteller. Looking back now, I realize that Mr. Masters didn’t just teach me music he changed the way I approached life. He taught me to take risks, to embrace vulnerability, and to trust in my own creative instincts. Those lessons followed me long after graduation. Today, as a singer-songwriter, I carry his influence with me every time I pick up a guitar or write a new song. Every lyric I put down, every melody I create, is rooted in the confidence he helped me build. He gave me more than skills he gave me direction, purpose, and the courage to pursue something I once thought was out of reach. Some teachers are remembered for what they teach. Mr. Masters is remembered for what he awakened. And because of him, I didn’t just learn music I became it.

One of the ways I have been most affected by a member of the LGBTQIA+ community has not been through one dramatic moment but through seeing people choose to live honestly and realizing what that meant for me. As someone who is part of the community myself, those experiences changed the way I think about identity, confidence, relationships, and the kind of impact I want to have in the future. Growing up, I think I had this idea that being accepted meant fitting into expectations and making sure people were comfortable with who you were. A lot of being a teenager already feels like trying to figure yourself out while also feeling pressure to fit in. There are expectations from school, social media, friendships, and even from yourself. It can sometimes feel easier to stay quiet about parts of yourself rather than risk being misunderstood. What affected me most was seeing people in the LGBTQIA+ community exist without apologizing for who they were. I saw people support each other, speak openly, and build confidence that was not based on everyone approving of them. That changed the way I viewed identity. I realized confidence is not something that appears one day when you finally become perfect or stop being nervous. It is something you build by choosing to show up as yourself over and over again. That experience also made me think differently about relationships. I became more aware that everyone is carrying experiences that other people cannot see. Because of that, I try to approach people with more empathy and less judgment. I think feeling accepted can completely change the way someone sees themselves, and I do not think people always realize how important that is. Those experiences shaped the way I think about activism too. When people hear the word activism, they often think of large movements, speeches, or public campaigns. While those things matter, I think activism can also happen in everyday spaces. It can happen through creating environments where people feel respected, included, and comfortable being themselves. In the future, I plan to study marketing and business and eventually open my own cosmetology business. To me, cosmetology is about more than appearance. I want to create a business that helps people feel confident and comfortable in who they are. I want it to be a space where people feel welcomed without judgment and leave feeling better than when they arrived. I am especially interested in the connection between self confidence and mental wellness because I think confidence changes more than appearance. When people feel seen and accepted, it affects how they carry themselves, how they build relationships, and how they move through the world. My experiences have taught me that activism does not always start with changing millions of people. Sometimes it starts by helping one person feel like they do not need to hide who they are. That is the kind of impact I hope to create.

My name is Kaiya, and I am currently a senior in high school with plans to pursue cosmetology and eventually open my own salon and beauty store. I have always been interested in creativity, helping people feel confident, and building connections with others. My goal is to create a business that goes beyond beauty by becoming a place where people feel welcomed, supported, and comfortable being themselves. Although I have not personally had sepsis, my family has been affected by it through my aunt’s experience. Watching someone close to me go through such a serious illness changed the way I think about health, resilience, and how quickly life can change. Before my aunt became sick, I honestly knew very little about sepsis. I had heard the word before, but I did not understand how dangerous it could be or how quickly it can develop from an infection. When my aunt became ill, it was a scary and emotional experience for our family. There was uncertainty, concern, and a lot of questions about what would happen next. Seeing someone who had always seemed strong suddenly become vulnerable was difficult to understand at first. It made me realize how important it is to recognize symptoms early, trust medical professionals, and never take good health for granted. One of the biggest lessons I learned from my aunt’s experience was the importance of support during difficult times. Family members checked in constantly, helped where they could, and reminded each other to stay positive. I saw how much emotional support matters when someone is facing a serious health challenge. Sometimes just being there, listening, or spending time together can mean more than people realize. Her experience also taught me the value of awareness and education. Many people, including me before this experience, do not fully understand what sepsis is until it affects someone they know. Learning more about it showed me how important it is to pay attention to our health and advocate for ourselves and others. As I continue planning for my future, I carry these lessons with me. In cosmetology and business, success is not only about skills or profits. It is also about caring for people and creating positive experiences. My future goal is to create an environment where clients feel seen, supported, and more confident when they leave than when they arrived. My aunt’s experience with sepsis reminded me that life can change unexpectedly and that compassion, connection, and supporting others are some of the most meaningful things we can offer. Those lessons will stay with me as I continue building my future.

When people think about cosmetology, they sometimes only think about hair, makeup, or beauty trends. For me, cosmetology represents something much bigger. It combines creativity, confidence, connection, and business, which are all things I see in my future. I chose this career path because I want to create something meaningful while building a successful business that helps people feel good about themselves. My interest in cosmetology started at a young age. I always enjoyed experimenting with hairstyles, learning about skincare, watching beauty content, and helping friends get ready for special events. What stood out to me was not just the transformation on the outside, but how people carried themselves differently afterward. A new hairstyle, makeup look, or self care experience could completely change someone’s confidence. I realized that cosmetology is not only about appearance. It is about helping people feel empowered. As I learned more about the industry, I became interested in more than being a cosmetologist. I started imagining owning my own salon and beauty store. I want to build a business that offers high quality services while also creating a welcoming environment where clients feel comfortable and valued. My vision is to have a salon that offers beauty services along with a retail space that sells products I personally believe in and recommend. I want clients to leave not only looking their best but understanding how to maintain that confidence at home. Another reason I chose this career path is because it allows me to combine creativity with entrepreneurship. I love the artistic side of cosmetology, but I am also excited by the idea of creating a brand, developing marketing strategies, managing operations, and leading a team. Owning a business means having the opportunity to turn ideas into reality and build something that reflects my values and goals. Getting a degree in this field will have a major impact on my life because it will provide both professional and business education. I will gain technical skills, industry knowledge, and experience that will prepare me to succeed. Just as importantly, I will learn about business management, finances, customer service, and leadership, which are all necessary to run a successful salon and retail business. This degree represents more than education to me. It represents independence, opportunity, and the ability to create the future I want. My goal is not simply to have a career. My goal is to build a business that creates jobs, supports confidence, and inspires others to pursue careers they are passionate about. Cosmetology is where my passion and my future come together.

My friend had been trying to get me to join her interfaith youth panel for weeks, and for weeks I had been finding reasons not to. I told myself I was busy. That as a Jewish teenager more connected to the food and the holidays than to the prayers, I wasn't qualified to speak for anyone. The truth was simpler and harder: I was afraid. It was June. You can guess why that made it harder. The event was held in the basement of a community center folding chairs, fluorescent lights, a table of cookies nobody was eating. Across the circle sat a girl named Lana. Seventeen, like me. She wore a Palestine pin. She had the kind of calm that makes you feel embarrassed by your own nervous energy. I remember thinking: "She's going to say something that makes me angry, and I won't know how to respond." I was wrong. But not in the way I expected. The facilitator asked us to share a moment when our identity had made us feel like an outsider. Lana talked about lunch. In middle school, she would eat in the bathroom during Ramadan because she was tired of people watching her not eat, tired of having to explain herself every day. The hardest part wasn't the hunger. It was the loneliness of being visible for something deeply private. I sat with that. Because I knew that feeling not from fasting, but from being the only Jewish kid at a Christmas party, laughing along at jokes I wasn't sure how to take. From the quiet exhaustion of always being a little bit *other*, always someone's representative. I hadn't expected to recognize myself in her story. I came braced for difference. I found a mirror instead. After the panel, we talked really talked for two hours. She told me how her family navigates being Palestinian-American and Muslim in a midwestern city, how her faith isn't just spiritual but structural: it organizes her time, her relationships, her sense of what matters. I told her I didn't know how to pray, that the last time I was in a synagogue was my cousin's bar mitzvah and I mostly remembered the food. She laughed a real laugh and said: "Maybe that's its own kind of faith. Showing up. Being there. That's not nothing." I've thought about that almost every day since. We didn't avoid the hard part either. We talked about the Middle East about what that word, Israel, Palestine, does to a room. Lana told me about relatives she's never met, a grief that is inherited and real. I told her about my grandmother's family, about the fear that lives underneath my secular Jewish identity like bedrock, quiet but always there. We didn't agree. We didn't reach some tidy reconciliation. But we were both crying a little by the end, and that felt more true than resolution would have. What changed in me is hard to name. Something loosened. I had been holding Lana as a category before I knew her as a person. When we talked, those categories didn't disappear but they stopped being the loudest thing in the room. What I understand now is that people's identities aren't just beliefs they hold. They are worlds they were born into, losses and joys that accumulate over generations. To really listen across difference isn't to pretend it doesn't exist. It's to say: "I want to understand what it cost you to become who you are." I'm still learning how to do that. But I'm less afraid than I was before.

My experience with mental health has shaped the way I think about success, relationships, and the kind of impact I want to have in the world. For me, mental health has not always looked like a major crisis or one defining moment. A lot of it has been quieter than that. It has looked like putting pressure on myself, comparing myself to other people, overthinking, and feeling like I needed to have everything figured out even when I was still growing. I think being a teenager comes with a strange combination of wanting to be independent while also trying to understand who you are. There is pressure from school, social media, friendships, future plans, and expectations that sometimes make it feel like everyone else already knows what they are doing. For a while, I thought confidence meant never doubting yourself or always feeling motivated and happy. Over time, I started realizing mental health is not about avoiding difficult emotions. It is about learning how to understand them instead of letting them control you. Music became one of the ways I started doing that. Singing, writing songs, and being creative gave me a place to put emotions that felt difficult to explain. It helped me realize that thoughts and feelings are not things to hide from. They can become something meaningful when you express them. My experience has also changed the way I build relationships. I have become more aware that everyone is carrying things you cannot always see. Because of that, I try to be more understanding and less quick to judge people. I think emotional wellness is connected to feeling accepted, heard, and supported, and I want the people in my life to feel that from me. It has also influenced my goals for the future. I want to study marketing and business and eventually build my own cosmetology business. To me, beauty is not only about appearance. I want to create a space where people feel more confident, cared for, and comfortable being themselves. I think small moments of confidence and self appreciation can have a bigger effect on mental health than people realize. Mental health has taught me that growth is not always obvious. Sometimes growth looks like being kinder to yourself, asking for support, trying again after disappointment, or giving yourself permission not to have everything figured out. That perspective has changed the way I see the world. Success is important, but I think feeling connected to yourself and helping other people feel seen matters just as much.

If I had to choose one Taylor Swift performance that I find the most moving, I would choose her performance of “All Too Well (10 Minute Version)” during The Eras Tour. What made that performance stand out to me was not just the song itself, but the way she performed it. There is something really powerful about watching someone stand in front of thousands of people and tell a story in a way that still feels personal. Even in a stadium, it somehow felt like she was sitting in her room writing in a journal. I think what moved me most was realizing that the performance was not only about heartbreak. To me, it felt like it was about memory, growing up, and turning experiences into something meaningful instead of something painful. She took emotions that could have stayed private and transformed them into art that connected with millions of people. As someone who sings and writes songs myself, that performance made me think differently about music. Sometimes I get nervous about writing because I overthink whether my ideas are dramatic, too personal, or not good enough. Watching that performance reminded me that music becomes powerful because it is honest. People connect to emotions more than perfection. I also admire the confidence behind it. Performing a ten minute song in front of huge audiences is a risk in a world where attention spans are short and people expect constant entertainment. Instead of changing her style to fit expectations, she trusted the story and let people sit with it. That inspired me because I think a lot of teenagers feel pressure to make ourselves easier to understand or more acceptable to other people. Seeing someone fully commit to their creative vision reminded me that there is value in creating things that feel true to you, even if they are not made for everyone. What makes that performance moving to me is not that it is flawless. It is that it feels human. It reminds me that art is not about pretending you have everything figured out. Sometimes it is about taking moments from your life and turning them into something that helps someone else feel understood.

Challenge Name: Signal or Static Love Island is built on attraction, chemistry, and first impressions, but what happens when all of that disappears? My challenge tests whether Islanders actually know each other or if they are only attracted to the version of someone they see every day. The villa transforms into a futuristic radio station inspired set with individual “broadcast booths” and a giant scoreboard called The Signal Meter. Each Islander enters a private booth and wears headphones. They cannot see anyone else and all communication happens through voice only. Islanders are given a series of surprise rounds where they must identify who is speaking and answer questions about them. Round One is called **Find Your Frequency.** Islanders hear recorded answers from other contestants responding to prompts like: * My biggest insecurity is… * My dream life in ten years is… * Something people misunderstand about me is… * The moment I felt closest to someone in the villa was… Contestants must guess who said each answer. Round Two is Static Test. Islanders answer rapid fire questions about the person they are currently coupled up with: * What is their biggest fear? * What would their dream date be? * What habit annoys them? * What would they spend a million dollars on? Each correct answer earns points. Round Three is where chaos starts. Called Crossed Signals, Islanders hear anonymous compliments secretly submitted by other contestants and must guess who wrote them. Some are romantic. Some are friendship based. Some are intentionally vague. Example: * “You make me feel calmer than I expected.” * “I think I would have noticed you outside the villa.” Wrong guesses are revealed publicly. At the end, the couples with the highest combined score earn a luxury overnight date and gain immunity from the next recoupling. The lowest scoring couple enters The Dead Zone, where they must sit together and watch a highlight reel of all the questions they got wrong about each other. The twist is that Islanders discover whether their connection is actually built on listening and understanding, or just attraction and routine. Because anyone can flirt. Not everyone actually pays attention.

My long term goal is to build a business that combines creativity, confidence, and community by opening my own cosmetology and beauty company. I want to create more than a salon. I want to create a space that helps people feel confident, supported, and comfortable being themselves. I am especially interested in promoting mental health through self care, self love, and positive experiences because I believe confidence and emotional wellness are more connected than people realize. To reach that goal, my first step is education. My plan is to attend college and study marketing and business. I want to understand branding, consumer behavior, financial planning, entrepreneurship, and how successful companies grow. At the same time, I want to pursue cosmetology training because I believe having hands on experience in the industry will help me become a stronger business owner. My timeline starts immediately after high school. During college, I plan to gain experience through internships, part time work, and networking opportunities in both business and beauty industries. I also want to continue developing creative skills outside of school, including singing and songwriting, because creativity influences how I think and communicate. Financially, I know education and starting a business requires planning. My current strategy includes applying for scholarships, searching for grants, and reducing future debt as much as possible. My estimated education budget includes tuition, books, transportation, and living expenses. Depending on the school I attend, I estimate college costs could range from approximately $20,000 to $35,000 per year before financial aid. Cosmetology certification could add approximately $15,000 to $25,000 depending on the program. After gaining education and industry experience, I hope to begin building my business gradually instead of trying to launch immediately. My initial goal would be creating a small studio model with lower startup costs before expanding. I estimate an early stage business budget of approximately $50,000 to $100,000 for licensing, equipment, furniture, supplies, marketing, technology, and operating reserves. I also believe in having more than one path to success. If opening a business immediately is not financially realistic, I would first work in marketing, join an established cosmetology business, or manage operations to gain experience and save capital. Every version of that path still moves me toward the same long term goal. Ultimately, success for me is not only measured by owning a business. It means creating a place where people feel more confident leaving than when they arrived. My goal is to combine business, creativity, and mental wellness to build something meaningful that creates a positive impact in people’s everyday lives.

The Olivia Rodrigo lyrics that resonate with me most are: “Address the letters to the holes in my butterfly wings / Nothing's forever, nothing is as good as it seems.” The first time I heard those lyrics, they stayed with me because they described a feeling I never really knew how to explain. To me, the image of butterfly wings represents becoming the person you imagine yourself turning into. Butterflies are usually seen as symbols of growth, change, and transformation, but these lyrics acknowledge something different. They suggest that even after growth, there are still marks left behind. There are imperfections, disappointments, and parts of yourself that do not disappear just because you are moving forward. That idea feels really personal to me. For a long time, I thought growing up meant eventually becoming completely confident and having everything figured out. I thought there would be a moment where I would finally feel talented enough, comfortable enough, and sure enough of myself. I especially felt this way when it came to music. As someone who sings, writes songs, and taught myself bass guitar, I put a lot of pressure on myself creatively. I would compare myself to people who seemed naturally talented or already successful and assume that if things did not come easily to me, maybe I was not meant to do them. I would start writing songs and immediately judge every lyric. I thought if something was not perfect, it was not worth finishing. Over time, I started realizing that creativity and growth do not work that way. The idea of “holes in my butterfly wings” reminds me that becoming who you are is not a clean process. Growth leaves evidence. Disappointment leaves evidence. Insecurity leaves evidence. But those things are not proof that you failed. They become part of the person you are becoming. The second line, “Nothing's forever, nothing is as good as it seems,” connects to another lesson I am still learning. When you are a teenager, everything can feel permanent. A bad grade feels permanent. Embarrassment feels permanent. Feeling behind everyone else feels permanent. But it is not. At the same time, things we idealize are not always perfect either. Success is not perfect. Confidence is not constant. People are not as put together as they seem from the outside. That realization has actually made me feel more free. I have started appreciating my life less as something I need to perfect and more as something I get to experience. I do not need to become a flawless version of myself to be proud of who I am. I can keep creating, keep learning, keep changing, and still be enough while I am doing it. My journey has included insecurity, creativity, comparison, and moments of questioning myself, but it has also included growth, courage, music, and discovering parts of myself I never expected. If my butterfly wings have holes in them, maybe that does not mean they are damaged. Maybe it means they have carried me somewhere.

I am a fan of Sabrina Carpenter because she represents something I think a lot of people my age are trying to figure out, which is how to grow into yourself without apologizing for it. Beyond her music, what stands out to me most is her confidence, her voice, and the way she seems willing to fully own who she is creatively. As someone who sings, writes songs, and has spent time trying to find my own voice, I connect with the way she tells stories through music. Her lyrics feel honest and intentional. Even when her songs are playful or confident, there is usually emotion underneath them. She writes in a way that feels personal but still relatable, and that is something I admire because songwriting can feel vulnerable. Seeing someone turn thoughts and experiences into something artistic reminds me that music is not just entertainment, it is connection. For a long time, I think I saw singing as something you either naturally had or you did not. Watching Sabrina’s career made me realize that success is also built through consistency, growth, and believing in yourself even while people are watching you change. She did not become successful overnight. She kept evolving, taking creative risks, and continuing to develop her sound and identity. Her confidence has probably impacted me the most. Not because she seems fearless, but because she seems comfortable taking up space and expressing herself unapologetically. As a teenage girl, that can feel difficult sometimes. There is pressure to fit expectations or worry too much about what other people think. Seeing someone succeed while staying creative and authentic has made me want to trust myself more, both as a singer and as a person. It reminds me that finding your voice takes time, and that the things that make you different creatively might end up becoming your biggest strengths.

For a long time, I would have never said that I loved math. Actually, I was scared of it. Growing up, I always thought there were “math people” and “not math people,” and I completely believed I was in the second group. Math felt like this subject where everyone else seemed to understand things immediately while I sat there trying to figure out what step I missed. I would get nervous before tests, avoid raising my hand, and convince myself that I just was not naturally good at it. Over time, I stopped seeing math as something I could improve at and started seeing it as proof of what I could not do. That changed because of one teacher. Instead of making math feel like speed or memorization, she made it feel like problem solving. She never acted like getting the wrong answer meant you were bad at math. She focused on how we thought instead of whether we got everything right the first time. When I struggled, she did not move on or make me feel embarrassed. She would ask questions and help me figure things out instead of giving me the answer. One day she told me something that completely changed how I thought about math: being good at math does not mean getting it instantly. It means being willing to stay with a problem longer than everyone else. That idea stayed with me. I started approaching math differently. Instead of assuming confusion meant failure, I started seeing it as part of learning. I slowed down, practiced more, and stopped being embarrassed when I did not understand something immediately. Slowly, I realized I was improving. Now what I love about math is that there is always a way forward. It teaches persistence, patience, and confidence. There is something satisfying about working through something difficult and realizing you can solve problems you once thought were impossible. Math taught me something bigger than numbers. It taught me that being bad at something today does not mean you will always be bad at it tomorrow.

Growing up with a single mother has shaped me in ways I did not fully understand until I got older. When I was younger, our life just felt normal because it was all I knew. I did not think about the fact that my mom was doing the work of two people or notice the sacrifices she made behind the scenes. As I have gotten older, I have realized how much strength, patience, and resilience it takes to raise a child on your own, and seeing that every day has influenced the person I am becoming. My mom has always been the person handling everything at once. She was making decisions, solving problems, managing responsibilities, and still finding time to support me and encourage me. Looking back now, I realize there were probably difficult moments she protected me from because she never wanted me to carry stress that was not mine. Even during challenging times, she created stability and made sure I felt supported. Because of that, growing up with a single mother taught me independence at a younger age. I learned to be responsible for myself, manage my time, and understand that effort matters. I learned that if something is important to you, you have to work for it instead of expecting it to happen on its own. Those lessons have carried into school, friendships, and the goals I have for my future. It also completely changed the way I think about strength. When I was younger, I thought strong people were the loudest people in the room or the ones who always looked confident. Watching my mom showed me something different. Real strength is quieter than that. Sometimes it means continuing to move forward even when things feel overwhelming. Sometimes it means showing up for people even when you are tired. Sometimes it means sacrificing your own comfort because someone else needs you. Growing up this way also made me more aware of other people and their experiences. It taught me empathy because I realized that everyone has things happening in their lives that other people may never see. You cannot always tell who is carrying extra responsibilities or dealing with challenges, which has made me more understanding and less quick to judge. One thing I admire most about my mom is that she never let difficult circumstances define our lives. She always pushed forward and reminded me that challenges do not decide your future. Your attitude, your work ethic, and your choices do. Seeing that firsthand has shaped how I approach obstacles and setbacks. Instead of seeing them as reasons to give up, I try to see them as opportunities to grow. Most importantly, growing up with a single mother showed me that success is not only measured by achievements or accomplishments. It is also measured by kindness, perseverance, and the ability to keep going even when things are hard. My mom’s example has inspired me to work hard, stay grounded, and build a future that reflects the values she taught me. Her strength helped shape mine, and that is something I will carry with me for the rest of my life.

Here is the essay for Kaiya: The Impact I Want to Make From the time I was a little girl, I understood that life is about more than what you achieve for yourself. It is about what you leave behind for others. That belief was not something I read in a book or learned in a classroom. It was something I absorbed by watching my mother Tracey pour herself into our lives every single day as a single mother, giving everything she had with love, faith, and zero hesitation. She is my greatest inspiration and the blueprint for the kind of impact I want to make in this world. I have also been shaped by loss and by love in equal measure. Watching my grandparents battle cancer, and losing my grandfather Chuck to this disease last year, taught me that life is precious and that the people around us deserve to feel cared for, beautiful, and valued in every season, especially the hard ones. Living with chronic spontaneous urticaria and depression has taught me what it means to struggle quietly while still showing up. All of these experiences have not broken me. They have built me into someone with a deep well of empathy and an unshakable desire to give back. My vision for giving back begins with my education. I plan to study marketing and business because I believe that knowledge is one of the most powerful tools for creating lasting change. Understanding how to build, grow, and sustain something meaningful will allow me to turn my dreams into something real and rooted in purpose. That purpose leads me to my ultimate goal of opening my own salon, a space that goes far beyond beauty services and becomes a true community anchor. I envision a business that partners with local organizations to serve cancer patients who deserve to feel beautiful during their treatments, women who are rebuilding their confidence after difficult chapters, and young people who need a safe and welcoming space to discover their own worth. Through JARC I have already experienced the profound joy of serving individuals with special needs, and that spirit of inclusion will be woven into everything I build. My business will reflect the community that shaped me and will exist to pour back into that community every single day. Giving back also means showing up in ways that go beyond my career. I will continue to volunteer, to mentor young women who come from single parent households like mine, and to share my music and my story with anyone who needs a reminder that their circumstances do not define their future. Music has always been my way of connecting and healing, and I intend to keep using it as a bridge between people for the rest of my life. The change I am determined to create is rooted in love, inclusion, and the belief that every single person deserves to feel seen. My mother showed me what that looks like every day of my life. My community has shown me why it matters. And my education will give me the tools to make it real. I am ready to build something that lasts, and I am ready to bring others along with me.

Making a positive impact on the world has never felt like a distant goal to me. It feels like something I am called to do every single day, in both small and meaningful ways. I believe that change does not always begin with grand gestures. It begins with how you treat the person standing right in front of you, and that belief guides everything I do. Music has always been one of my most powerful tools for connection and healing. I write my own songs, play guitar, and perform because I know firsthand how much a song can lift someone's spirit when words alone fall short. I share my music with those around me because I want people to feel less alone in whatever they are going through. That is impact. That is purpose. And it is something I plan to carry far beyond my school years and into every stage of my life. My faith and my involvement in BBYO have also deeply shaped my understanding of what it means to give back. Showing up for my community, volunteering, and leading with empathy are not things I do to check a box. They are expressions of who I am and who I am committed to becoming. I have learned that the world changes one relationship at a time, and I intend to pour genuine care and positivity into every relationship I build. My career aspirations are also deeply tied to the kind of impact I want to make. I plan to study marketing and business and one day open my own salon. But my vision for that business goes far beyond beauty services. I want to build a space where people feel restored, celebrated, and seen. I have watched family members battle cancer and witnessed how much it means to feel beautiful and cared for during the most difficult seasons of life. My salon will partner with organizations that serve cancer patients, women in transition, and young people who need a place where they feel they truly belong. I also plan to continue mentoring and uplifting younger generations, particularly young women who come from single parent households like mine. I want them to see that where you come from does not define where you are going, and that with faith, hard work, and a community that believes in you, anything is possible. My mother Tracey showed me that every single day, and passing that message forward is one of the most important things I will ever do. The impact I want to make is rooted in love, community, and the belief that every person deserves to feel valued. Through my music, my business, my faith, and my relationships, I intend to spend my life showing up for others the way the people I love most have always shown up for me.

Here is the revised essay for Kaiya: How Has Coming From a Single Parent Household Shaped Your Educational Journey? How Do You Plan on Giving Back to Your Community in the Future? Growing up in a single parent household has shaped every part of who I am, including the way I approach my education. My mother Tracey has been my entire world, working tirelessly to provide for us and making sure I had every opportunity to grow and thrive. Watching her sacrifice and pour herself into our life with such grace taught me that nothing worth having comes without effort and commitment. I carry that lesson into every classroom and every goal I set for myself. Because of her, I have never taken a single opportunity for granted. My education is not just a privilege but a responsibility, one I owe to myself and to everything my mother has given to make it possible. There were moments when our circumstances were not easy, and the weight of what a single parent household carries was very real. But rather than allowing those moments to discourage me, they pushed me forward. My mother never made me feel like anything was missing. Instead she filled our home with so much love, faith, and encouragement that I always felt rich in the ways that mattered most. That environment shaped my hunger for knowledge, my drive to succeed, and my desire to build a future that honors everything she has sacrificed for me. My educational journey has always been guided by purpose. Knowing my mother is watching and believing in me has made me a more focused and intentional student. I have pursued academics, the arts, athletics, and community involvement through BBYO because I believe a well rounded education prepares you not just for a career but for a meaningful life. My plans to study marketing and business are rooted in a dream nurtured by a woman who showed me every day that hard work and love can build something truly beautiful. Giving back to my community is not something I plan to do someday. It is something I am already doing. I continue to volunteer because I believe we are at our best when we show up for one another. BBYO has given me a space to lead, serve, and connect with others in ways that have strengthened my sense of purpose and deepened my commitment to service. When I open my own salon, it will be so much more than a business. It will be a community space rooted in inclusion and empowerment. I want to create a place where people from all walks of life feel welcome, partnering with local organizations to serve those in need, including cancer patients, women rebuilding their confidence, and young people discovering their own sense of self worth. My business will reflect the values my mother instilled in me and the strength I witnessed in my grandparents as they faced cancer. I come from a single parent household, and that is one of the greatest gifts of my life. It taught me empathy, resilience, and a love that does not waver under pressure. Those are the values I will bring into everything I do.

Here is the essay for Kaiya: How Has Your Experience Living a Life Impacted by Cancer, Living in a Single-Parent Household, or Coming from a Low-Income Background Influenced Your Career Aspirations? Cancer is not just a word in my family. It is a reality that has touched nearly every corner of my life and shaped me in ways I am still discovering. My grandmother Sue has battled cancer, and both of my grandfathers, Marty and Chuck, have faced this devastating disease as well. Last year, I experienced one of the most painful moments of my life when my grandfather Chuck passed away from cancer. Grief has a way of changing you, and losing Chuck changed me deeply. But so did watching the strength, love, and resilience of my family as we held each other through it all. Growing up witnessing the impact of cancer on the people I love most has taught me lessons that no classroom ever could. I learned that life is fragile and precious, and that the people around us deserve to feel beautiful, confident, and cared for in every season of life, especially the hard ones. I watched my family members sit in waiting rooms, endure treatments, and navigate days that were physically and emotionally exhausting. What struck me most was how much the small things mattered during those times. A kind word, a gentle touch, a moment of feeling normal and beautiful in the middle of something so overwhelming. Those observations planted a seed in me that has grown into a true calling. That calling has led me toward a future in cosmetology and business. I want to own my own salon one day, and I want it to be more than just a place where people come to look good. I want it to be a place where people come to feel seen, restored, and uplifted. I have seen firsthand how much it means to someone going through illness to feel taken care of and beautiful in their own skin. My grandfather Chuck, my grandmother Sue, and my grandfather Marty are the faces I carry with me as I build this dream. Their journeys reminded me that beauty and joy are acts of resistance against pain, and I want to spend my life offering both to others. Being raised by my mother Tracey in a single parent household has only deepened this sense of purpose. She showed me what it means to show up with love even when things are hard, and that is exactly the spirit I intend to bring into my career every single day. I am not just pursuing cosmetology and business because I love the craft. I am pursuing it because I believe in the power of human connection, and I have lived the kind of life that has shown me just how much that connection matters. Every challenge my family has faced has not broken me. It has built me into someone who is ready to pour that love and resilience back into the world.

The greatest driving force in my life has always been my mother, Tracey. As a single mother, she has given me more than most people could ever imagine not just in sacrifice and dedication, but in an abundance of love, strength, and an unwavering belief in me that fuels my ambition every single day. She didn't just raise me; she poured every piece of herself into shaping who I am. She worked tirelessly to make sure I never felt the weight of what we didn't have, and instead filled our home with everything that truly matters warmth, laughter, faith, and a love so steady it became the ground beneath my feet. Everything I am today is a reflection of her heart, her resilience, and her grace. What makes my relationship with my mother truly extraordinary is that it goes far beyond the typical bond between a parent and child. Tracey is my safe place, my biggest cheerleader, and my closest confidant all wrapped into one. She has a warmth about her that is rare and magnetic the kind that draws people in and makes them feel immediately at ease and I have been lucky enough to be wrapped in that warmth my entire life. She has always had a way of making me feel seen, heard, and deeply valued, not just as her daughter, but as a person with my own voice, my own dreams, and my own purpose. On the days when I doubted myself when the road ahead felt uncertain or the challenges in front of me felt too heavy to carry it was her voice, her steadiness, and her love that brought me back to myself. She never let me give up, not because she pushed or pressured me, but because she believed in me so completely and so unconditionally that I had no choice but to begin believing in myself too. Watching my mother move through the world with such grace, courage, and an open heart has profoundly shaped the woman I am becoming. She has done it all on her own, and she has done it beautifully. She taught me that strength doesn't always look loud sometimes it looks like getting up every morning and choosing your family, your faith, and your future, no matter how hard the day before was. She showed me how to lead with empathy, how to be present for the people I love, and how to hold onto my dreams even when the path to reaching them isn't perfectly clear. Because of her, I learned that love is not just something you feel it is something you do, every single day, in every small and meaningful way. My passion for music, my love of performing, my commitment to my community through BBYO, and my desire to one day build a business of my own all of it traces back to her. She is the reason I pick up my guitar when the world feels heavy. She is the reason I step onto a stage even when I am nervous. She is the reason I dream as big as I do and refuse to settle for anything less than what I know I am capable of achieving. Tracey didn't just give me life she gave me a life full of purpose, passion, and the courage to go after everything I am meant to become. She is not just my mother; she is my foundation, my greatest inspiration, and without question, the most powerful driving force my life has ever known.