I committed my first crime at six years old, and it might be the reason I'm a musician. Everyone’s got one – maybe stealing a sibling’s toy or an off-limits candy bar. Mine was my parents’ iPad. I remember tiptoeing, cartoon-like, into their room to snatch the forbidden device, but it wasn’t for video games. It was for music. I sat in the shadows at the top of the stairs and found an app that played an endless loop of Pachelbel’s Canon in D. I held it to my ear, closed my eyes, and listened. And I cried. How could three violins make my young soul ache with longing and wonder? Even then, something in me was aching to create. Music is in my every bone and every thought. I’m fairly certain it flows through my veins. I didn’t choose music; it’s so deeply part of who I am that I’m unable to ignore it. At the same time, there are problems in the music industry that I cannot ignore. The music industry has a troubling reputation for exploiting, silencing, and underrepresenting women. Although women often stand in the spotlight, they make up only about 3–6% of producers and 12% of composers. After studying music composition and entrepreneurship at Baylor, I plan to combine both passions by creating a record label owned and operated by women, for women. I want to build the kind of music industry I wish already existed – a place where women never have to choose between pursuing their dreams and protecting their safety. One of my biggest role models in the music industry is RAYE. In fact, it’s the trials she went through that inspire me to help fix the music industry’s reputation for misogyny and sexual assault. "I was seven, was 21, was 17, and was 11," she sings in one heartbreaking line. Male producers took advantage of her in more ways than one, silencing her and stifling her creative freedom. So many young women, bursting with potential, suffer exactly what she experienced. Many more, undoubtedly, never begin a musical career for fear of becoming the next victim. Hearing her story reminded me that talent alone isn't enough if the people around you abuse their power. Every artist deserves the freedom to create without fear, and that's the kind of environment I hope to build. When artists flourish, communities flourish too. I hope my company will mentor young musicians, partner with local schools and nonprofits, and give emerging artists a place to grow. I especially want young girls to meet women who are composers, producers, and business owners so they can see careers they may never have imagined for themselves. Sometimes representation is enough to make a dream feel possible. I want to be remembered as a great musician, but not just a great musician. The most impactful thing I can do isn't chase my own success but create opportunities for others. I want the women I work with to be able to say I made them feel valued – not because of their appearance or their sound, but because they have innate worth and deserve respect. I hope they can succeed without ever experiencing the abuse so many female musicians endure. That's the difference I want to make and the legacy I hope to leave. No woman should have to share her voice at the cost of her safety.

People often think of music as a solo art. They picture the pop star on stage or the tortured composer sitting alone at a piano. The longer I've studied music, the more I've realized that's only a tiny part of the story. Behind every treasured song, whether that's a string quartet or a pop ballad, is the invisible network of people who made it possible. Musicians, sound engineers, licensing specialists, producers, managers, and entrepreneurs all bring different gifts to create something that none of them could have made alone. That's one of the things I love most about this industry. One of the people who has shaped me most is my piano teacher, Mrs. Treese. I've had every stereotypical piano teacher, from the strict one who whacked my fingers when they weren't curved to the too-sweet lady who would rather me not compete to avoid hurt feelings. Nobody has come close to Mrs. Treese. Barely a month after our first lesson, she plopped Gershwin's First Prelude in front of me. "I think you should play this for the ASMTA competition." I laughed. She didn't. She saw something in me before I could see it in myself. It was a confidence deficit, and if there's anything Mrs. Treese knows about, it's confidence. Her constant encouragement, eccentric sayings, and refusal to let me settle for less changed not only the way I approached piano, but the way I approached every challenge that followed. That experience taught me that collaboration isn't just creating alongside someone else. Sometimes it's believing in another person until they begin to believe in themselves. As I look toward my career in music, I know relationships will matter just as much as talent. Building a network with intentionality will give me connections and relationships as I find my team. Great music alone won't build the kind of company I hope to create. It will take musicians, producers, sound engineers, business leaders, and mentors working together toward the same vision. After studying music composition and entrepreneurship at Baylor, I plan to create a record label owned and operated by women, for women. I want to build the kind of music industry I wish already existed. This safe environment would give female artists the tools they need to succeed while prioritizing their safety, mental health, and unique voices. The end goal is to help other women pursue their creative dreams, even if they, like me, are starting with negligible connections and funds. When every woman has the safe space, support, and opportunity to thrive, we can create meaningful change together. That's what collaboration means to me - not simply making music together, but building something together that leaves the industry better than we found it.

I committed my first crime at six years old, and it might be the reason I'm a musician. Everyone’s got one - maybe stealing a sibling’s toy or an off-limits candy bar. Mine was my parents’ iPad. I remember tiptoeing, cartoon-like, into my parents’ room to snatch the forbidden device, but it wasn’t for video games. It was for music. I sat in shadow at the top of the stairway and found an app that played an endless loop of Pachelbel's Canon in D. I held it to my ear, closed my eyes, and listened. And I cried. How could three violins make my young soul ache with longing and wonder? Even then, something in me was aching to create. Music has been a part of my every thought ever since. It isn't just something I enjoy; it's the way I understand the world. For me, songwriting is an outflow of emotion. It's a way to communicate what words can't. That's why songs like Pachelbel's Canon have so much power. They're born from raw, human emotion - emotion that's given new life every time someone hears them. Music has the power to comfort those who are hurting, empower those who need confidence, and transport you to another time and place. At many times in my life, I've been the one who has been healed and comforted by music. It wasn't only listening that changed me. It wasn't even performing. It's collaborating with fellow musicians. It's finding mentors who inspire and encourage you. It's creating something completely new, and completely you. Music brings people together despite their differences. It's a shared language we all love. Because of music, I've found teachers who challenged me, friends who understood me, and opportunities I never imagined having. I've learned to create instead of simply consume. I've learned to express emotions that don't fit neatly into words. Every lesson, rehearsal, performance, and composition has shaped not only the musician I am becoming but also the person I am becoming. Right now, there's a hunger for uniqueness and creativity in music. Perhaps people want what feels human in the midst of a world changed by AI, or maybe they're simply tired of repetitive pop songs with the same four chords. Either way, I want to write music that fulfills that desire for originality and freshness. I want to capture human emotion in a way that heals and comforts. I want to combine wildly different genres and bring together wildly different people. Maybe I can bring a little more beauty into the world - a little more magic. That's why I've continued pursuing this industry. Music has given me so much that I can't imagine not giving something back. If there's one thing I know, it's that when people are aching, lonely, and depressed, they turn to music. When they're celebrating and joyful, they turn to music. Society needs musicians - artists - to thrive, not just survive. I want to be the artist planting seeds of change and beauty in this world. I want to write the song so beautiful that it brings a child to tears and inspires them to create as well.

I committed my first crime at six years old, and it might be the reason I'm a musician. Everyone’s got one—maybe stealing a sibling’s toy or an off-limits candy bar. Mine was my parents’ iPad. I remember tiptoeing, cartoon-like, into my parents’ room to snatch the forbidden device, but it wasn’t for video games. It was for music. I sat in shadow at the top of the stairway and found an app that played an endless loop of Pachelbel's Canon in D. I held it to my ear, closed my eyes, and listened. And I cried. How could three violins make my young soul ache with longing and wonder? Even then, something in me was aching to create. That moment led me to music, and it also led me to composition. Behind every treasured song, whether it’s a string quartet or a pop ballad, is the invisible composer. They tend to be the last thing we think about when listening to a piece of music—we're distracted by the singer or perhaps the instruments. However, without composers, there would be nothing to sing and nothing to play. For me, songwriting is an outflow of emotion. It's a way to communicate what words can't. That's why pieces like Pachelbel's Canon have so much power. They're born from raw, human emotion—emotion that's given new life every time someone listens. Music can comfort those who are hurting, strengthen those who need confidence, and transport us to another time and place. As a composer, I have the privilege of capturing those emotions in musical notes so they can be shared with someone else. At many points in my life, I've been the one who has been healed and comforted by music. Performance has challenged me and helped me grow, but the greatest impact has come from creating my own music. Composing has taught me to process difficult emotions rather than run from them. It has shown me that beauty can come from hardship and that even painful experiences can become something meaningful. Music has also given me a community. It's collaborating with fellow musicians. It's finding mentors who inspire and encourage you. It's creating something completely new—something completely you. Music brings people together despite their differences because it's a language we all understand. That's why I continue pursuing this art form. Right now, there's a hunger for uniqueness and creativity in music. Perhaps people want what feels human in the midst of a world changed by AI, or maybe they're simply tired of repetitive songs that all sound the same. Whatever the reason, I want to write music that feels honest. I want to capture human emotion in a way that heals and comforts. I want to combine wildly different genres and bring together wildly different people. Maybe I can bring a little more beauty into the world—a little more magic. If there's one thing I know, it's that people turn to music for every season of life. When they're aching, lonely, and depressed, they turn to music. When they're celebrating and joyful, they turn to music. My involvement in music has shaped how I see the world and how I care for other people. It has taught me that art isn't just something we enjoy; it's something that helps us endure. I want to be the artist planting seeds of change and beauty in this world. I want to write the song so beautiful that it brings a child to tears and inspires them to create as well.

When you mention creativity to the average person, more often than not, their mind jumps to activities like art, music, or writing. This is known as “art bias.” In reality, creativity is much bigger than that. Creativity means generating ideas and making them a reality. Creators see a problem, find a solution, and bring that solution to life. As I look forward to my career in music, one such problem is at the forefront of my mind. The music industry has a troubling reputation for exploiting and underrepresenting women. That needs fixing! I want to create that solution: a company that prioritizes safety, accountability, and integrity. I want to build the kind of music industry I wish already existed. Although women often stand in the spotlight, they're still dramatically underrepresented behind the scenes: only a tiny 3-6% of producers and 12% of composers are women. After I study music composition and entrepreneurship at Baylor, I plan to use both skills to create a record label owned and operated by women, for women. I want to help girls achieve their goals without fear of abuse or assault. This safe environment would provide female artists with the tools they need to succeed in their careers, while prioritizing their safety, mental health, and unique voices. The end goal is to help other women pursue their creative dreams. When artists flourish, communities flourish too. We’ll mentor young musicians and give emerging artists a place to grow. As a business that values integrity as much as success, we can set a good example by partnering with nonprofits and keeping the arts alive and thriving. I also hope to partner with local schools, churches, and community arts programs by offering workshops, internships, and performance opportunities for young musicians. I want girls to meet women who are composers, producers, and business owners so they can see careers they may never have imagined for themselves. Representation matters and sometimes can be enough to make a dream feel attainable. It would be remiss not to mention one of my role models and favorite musicians, RAYE. She is a composer, singer, and record producer. However, it’s the trials she went through that inspire me to help fix the music industry’s well-deserved reputation for misogyny and sexual assault. “I was seven, was 21, was 17, and was 11,” she sings in one heartbreaking line. Male producers took advantage of her in more ways than one, silencing her and stifling her creative freedom. So many young women, bursting with potential, suffer exactly what she experienced. Many more, undoubtedly, are deterred from ever beginning their musical career, in fear of being the next victim. Hearing her story reminded me that talent alone isn't enough if the people around you abuse their power. Every artist deserves the freedom to create without fear. Creativity isn't just about writing songs; it's about building something better. With hard work and dedication, I hope to use both my creativity and my education to make the music industry safer for the next generation of artists. If one young woman feels safe enough to pursue her dreams because of the company I build, then my education will have accomplished far more than launching my own career. It will have helped shape a better future for the people who come after me.

Clunk! I passed out again. It was a few minutes before my mom found me on the floor, and my vision wasn't back yet. I was twelve when POTS symptoms started showing up, but for a while, we thought I was just… weird. It wasn't until debilitating ocular migraines sent me to the cardiologist that I learned this was bigger than POTS—it was dysautonomia. It explained the migraines that blind me, my inability to regulate temperature, and the severe weight loss that left me malnourished. As I neared sophomore year, my migraines became so severe that I was bedridden for days, and keeping up with school became a struggle. Physics class was the first to go, and as an academically driven student, I was crushed. Would I still qualify for the merit scholarships I was counting on to afford college? I never imagined that a nervous system disorder would become one of the biggest obstacles between me and my goals. There were three things I had to do: learn how to work with my body instead of against it, take actionable steps to maintain my health and grades, and completely change my mindset. My two biggest takeaways on working with my body seem contradictory at first. First: I can do hard things. While I can't control my health, I can control my response. I can be strong, even when my body is weak. Second: there's no shame in resting. I can work twice as hard when I feel okay, and I can rest twice as hard when a migraine hits. Next, I had to make changes to keep from slipping academically. I started eating with intentionality to regain the energy I needed. I created a workout routine and stuck with it—which is harder than it sounds, since one burpee would make me black out! I worked ahead when I felt well, rested during flare-ups, and communicated with my teachers about my limitations. When I was unwell, I focused on productive tasks that weren't as mentally draining. I may not be able to calculate projectile motion while bedridden, but I can certainly read Hamlet. I can confidently say that my circumstances don't define me; my actions do. It took a serious mindset shift to arrive at this healthy headspace. I needed to be at peace with not being able to do everything other teenagers can do. Learning to drive wasn't an option at sixteen. I had to come to terms with that reality and create a plan to navigate it safely, which is one reason I chose Baylor's walkable campus. One all-nighter (followed by two weeks of sickness) was enough to teach me that staying out late wasn't in the cards for me. I've learned to see it as a blessing. Now I have one of the healthiest sleep schedules I know, a regulated circadian rhythm, and more time for restful, creative activities. It took years, but I'm finally comfortable telling people about my disability. For too long, I worried they would think I was weird—or worse, attention-seeking. I've learned that asking for help isn't weakness; it's part of advocating for myself and continuing to pursue my education despite my health challenges. Receiving this scholarship would help relieve the financial burden of attending Baylor, allowing me to focus on my education and future goals instead of the cost. More importantly, it would be an investment in a student who has learned that resilience isn't about pretending nothing is wrong; it's about adapting, persevering, and pursuing excellence despite obstacles. Dysautonomia has changed the way I learn, but never my determination.

I committed my first crime at six years old, and it might be the reason I'm a musician. Everyone’s got one – maybe stealing a sibling’s toy or an off-limits candy bar. Mine was my parents’ iPad. I remember tiptoeing, cartoon-like, into my parents’ room to snatch the forbidden device, but it wasn’t to play video games. It was for music. I sat in shadow at the top of the stairway and found an app that played an endless loop of Pachelbel's “Canon in D.” I held it to my ear, closed my eyes, and listened. And I cried. I cried like I'd lost something. I didn’t understand my reaction to the music, but I leaned against the wall for a long time, letting the colors of the strings wash over each other, hues changing as the melodies overlapped. Even then, something in me was aching to create. So I poured my heart and soul into music. To create great music, you must first study the Greats, so I spent more than 10 years becoming a skilled pianist. Composing for ensembles is best done by those with ensemble experience, so I sang in choir and led worship band. Performing with ease requires confidence and presence, so I joined theater and speech and debate. With the help and guidance of amazing teachers and mentors, I collected blue medals at Sonatina festivals, won regional competitions, and then state competitions. Still, the full extent of my passion for songwriting didn’t dawn on me until I submitted one of my piano compositions to a national competition. I won first in my state, then second place regionally. I know so little about composing, I thought, imagine what I could achieve after being properly and rigorously trained? I also realized just how much music helped carry me through pain and weakness. I was twelve when POTS symptoms started showing up. Passing out was a part of daily life, and “Alice in Wonderland” symptoms kept me up all night. It wasn’t until I started having debilitating ocular migraines that the cardiologist told me this was bigger than POTS – it was dysautonomia. It explained a lot– the migraines that blind me, my complete inability to regulate temperature, and the serious weight loss that officially put me in the “malnourished” category. As I neared sophomore year, my ocular migraines were so severe, I became bedridden for days. I felt crazy, and I wondered how I would keep up with school. Physics class was the first to go, and as an academically driven student, I was crushed. Would I have to drop out of my other classes, too? How would this affect my GPA? I never imagined that a nervous system disorder would become one of the biggest obstacles between me and my goals. There was only one thing to do. I had to learn how to work with my body, instead of against it. My two biggest takeaways seem contradictory. First, I can do hard things. My circumstances are not an excuse. Change-makers throughout history have dealt with much worse than I have, and they didn’t let it stop them. Second, there’s no shame in resting. I can work twice as hard when I feel well, and I can rest twice as hard when a migraine hits. The two are not mutually exclusive; after all, life is more than constant productivity. Finding that balance allowed me to persevere despite my health. That perseverance allowed me to keep my grades above a 4.0, earn an ACT score I’m proud of, win piano competitions, and secure one of the few highly competitive spots in Baylor’s composition program. Sadly, succeeding as a woman in the music industry will be no small task. That's surprising for many, since women are often the ones we see on billboards and album covers. Only a tiny 3-6% of producers and only 12% of composers are women. After I study composition and entrepreneurship, I plan to use both music and business skills to create a record label owned and operated by women, for women. I want to help girls achieve their goals without fear of abuse or assault. This safe environment would provide female artists with the tools they need to succeed in their careers, while prioritizing their safety and mental health. That’s how I plan to pay it forward. The end goal is to help other women pursue their dreams, even if they, like me, are starting with negligible connections and funds. Right now, there’s a hunger for uniqueness and creativity in music. Perhaps people want what feels human in the midst of a world changed by AI. I want to write music that fulfills that desire for originality and freshness. I want to capture human emotion in a way that heals and comforts. I want to combine wildly different genres and bring together wildly different people. Maybe I can bring a little more beauty into the world– a little more magic. To do this, I need to be equipped to write the best melodies, craft the best ideas, and make the best impact on people, and I need to do it without significant debt. My parents saved what they could for college, but it will hardly make a dent in tuition. On top of that, my mom recently quit her job to focus on my neurodivergent sister, who is struggling. Private scholarships like this one would make achieving my goals possible. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that when people are aching, lonely, and depressed, they turn to music. When they’re celebrating and joyful, they turn to music. Society needs musicians in order to thrive, not just survive. I’m confident other people will see that truth and lend a helping hand, knowing musicians make a difference. I want to be the artist planting seeds of change and beauty in this world. I want to write the song so beautiful that it brings a child to tears and inspires them to create as well.

I committed my first crime at six years old, and it might be the reason I’m a musician. Everyone’s got one - maybe stealing a sibling’s toy or an off-limits candy bar. Mine was my parents’ iPad. I remember tiptoeing, cartoon-like, into my parents’ room to snatch the forbidden device, but not for games, for music. I sat in shadow at the top of the stairway and found an app that played an endless loop of Pachelbel’s “Canon.” I held it to my ear, closed my eyes, and listened. And I cried. I cried like I’d lost something. I didn’t understand my reaction, but I leaned against the wall, letting the colors of the strings wash over me. That moment was the beginning of more than a love for music; it was the first glimpse of the artist I hope to become - one who creates beauty and opens doors for other women to do the same. Sadly, succeeding as a woman in the music industry is no small task. That surprises many people, since women are often the faces on billboards and album covers. Yet only 3–6% of producers and 12% of composers are women. My dream is to create a record label owned and operated by women, for women. I want to help girls pursue their goals without fear of abuse or assault. This safe environment would give female artists the tools they need to succeed while prioritizing their safety, mental health, and unique voices. The end goal is to help other women pursue their dreams, even if they, like me, are starting with few connections and little funding. This scholarship would help equip me to study music composition and entrepreneurship so I can turn that vision into something tangible: a place where women are protected, supported, and empowered. Right now, there’s a hunger for uniqueness and creativity in music. Perhaps people want what feels human in a world changed by AI. I want to write music that answers that desire for originality and freshness. I want to combine wildly different genres and bring together wildly different people. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that when people are aching, lonely, or depressed, they turn to music. When they’re celebrating and joyful, they turn to music. I want to write a song so beautiful that it brings a child to tears and inspires them to create as well.

“Thou art my hiding place, O Lord, in Thee I put my trust; Encouraged by Thy holy Word, a feeble child of dust. I have no argument beside, I urge no other plea; And 'tis enough my Savior died, my Savior died for me.” Music has a way of impacting us– especially music that shares the gospel message. Truths about who I am and what God has done for me are stored as melodies in my mind. When I’m overwhelmed by anxiety, fear, or pain, powerful lyrics come to mind and encourage me. I often think about the composers of classic hymns like “Jesus Paid It All.” Did they have any idea their compositions would bring tears to the eyes of Christians, even decades after their death? For me, writing is an involuntary response: when I’m overwhelmed by the goodness of God, I put it in song. Often, when I’m feeling moved to compose, I look to old and unfamiliar hymns for lyrics and inspiration. There are so many hidden gems with biblically deep lyrics. One day, I sat down to write and stumbled upon the 19th-century hymn “Thou art my hiding place, O Lord.” Written by Thomas Raffles in 1833, it beautifully echoes the promise of Psalm 32:7. I knew what I needed to bring my vision to life: a string quartet, an intense, emotional bridge, and syncopated rhythms to create a sense of urgency. I wanted that urgency to build, as if to say “Run to the Lord!” up until the very last verse. Here on earth, pain and death are inevitable, and I wanted this song to be a powerful and urgent reminder that we do indeed have a “hiding place” in Christ. Creating isn’t what I do, it’s who I am. It’s an involuntary reaction to glimpses of God’s glory here on earth. God is a creator, and we are made in His image, so it’s natural and beautiful that we long to create as well. So we paint. We sing. We write, and we compose, and we share it with one another. I will continue to create songs that glorify God and that are creative and unique– songs that soften hearts and minds. This is a way I can serve the Lord and His church. This coming fall, I will be studying music composition at Baylor University. I will study under Dr. McAllister, a gifted composer whose love for the Lord is clear in all that he does. I’m confident that I will be equipped to write beautiful music there, but since my parents can’t contribute meaningfully to my college education, private scholarships like this one would truly be a blessing. I trust that God will provide, though. He’s the one who gifted me with music and talent, after all– I owe Him everything. Our God sent His only son to save me from my sin! The least I can do is share that message using the gifts He’s given me.

I committed my first crime at six years old, and it might be the reason I'm a musician. Everyone’s got one – maybe stealing a sibling’s toy or an off-limits candy bar. Mine was my parents’ iPad. I remember tiptoeing, cartoon-like, into my parents’ room to snatch the forbidden device, but it wasn’t to play video games. It was for music. I sat in shadow at the top of the stairway and found an app that played an endless loop of Pachelbel's “Canon in D.” I held it to my ear, closed my eyes, and listened. And I cried. I cried like I'd lost something. How could three violins make my young soul ache with longing and wonder? I didn’t understand my reaction to the music, but I leaned against the wall for a long time, letting the colors of the strings wash over each other, hues changing as the melodies overlapped. Even then, something in me was aching to create. So I poured my heart and soul into music. To create great music, you must first study the Greats, so I spent more than 10 years becoming a skilled pianist. With the help and guidance of amazing teachers and mentors, I earned blue medals at Sonatina festivals, won regional and then state competitions. Still, the full extent of my passion for songwriting didn’t dawn on me until junior year of high school. I submitted one of my piano compositions to a national competition and won first in my state, then second place regionally. I know so little about composing, I thought, imagine what I could achieve after being properly and rigorously trained? Sadly, succeeding as a woman in the music industry is no small task. That's surprising for many, since women are often the ones we see on billboards and album covers. Only a tiny 3-6% of producers are women and only 12% of composers. After I study composition and entrepreneurship at Baylor, my dream is to create a record label owned and operated by women, for women. I want to help girls achieve their goals without fear of abuse or assault. This safe environment would provide female artists with the tools they need to succeed in their careers, while prioritizing their safety, mental health, and unique voices. That’s how I plan to pay it forward. The end goal is to help other women pursue their dreams, even if they, like me, are starting with negligible connections and funds. Together, we can create a community where every woman has the safe space, support, and opportunity to thrive. Right now, there’s a hunger for uniqueness and creativity in music. Perhaps people want what feels human in the midst of a world changed by AI, or maybe they’re just tired of repetitive pop songs with the same four chords. Either way, I want to write music that fulfills that desire for originality and freshness. I want to capture human emotion in a way that heals and comforts. I want to combine wildly different genres and bring together wildly different people. Maybe I can bring a little more beauty into the world– a little more magic. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that when people are aching, lonely, and depressed, they turn to music. When they’re celebrating and joyful, they turn to music. Society needs artists –musicians– to thrive, not just survive. I want to be the artist planting seeds of change and beauty in this world. I want to write the song so beautiful that it brings a child to tears and inspires them to create as well.

"Jesus paid it all, All to him I owe. Sin had left a crimson stain– He washed me white as snow." These lyrics bring a powerful memory to my mind. I’m standing in a room filled with believers. Our faces are turned to Heaven, eyes closed, tears running down our cheeks. For the final chorus, every instrument stops playing, and we sing a cappella. All I hear are voices in unison, praising God for His mercy, and I think, “I owe Him everything.” Music has a way of impacting us, especially music that shares the gospel message. Truths about who I am and what God has done for me are stored as melodies in my mind. When I’m overwhelmed by anxiety, fear, or pain, those lyrics come to mind and encourage me. I often think about the composers of classic hymns like “Jesus Paid It All.” Did they have any idea their compositions would bring tears to the eyes of Christians, even decades after their death? For me, writing is an involuntary response to emotion. When I’m overwhelmed by the goodness of God, I put it in song. When I was twelve, I had the opportunity to join the worship team at my church, playing piano. That’s quite a young age, and if I’m being honest, I was probably not ready for that. However, it was exactly what I needed. Years of serving as a pianist and vocalist created growth both as a person and a musician. Over time, I didn’t just play piano– I shared songs that I wrote. I’ve noticed many people voicing the same concern: we need more great worship music. We don’t have enough modern worship with theologically deep lyrics. I would love to continue to create songs that glorify God and that are creative and unique– songs that soften hearts and minds. This is a way I can serve the Lord and His church. This coming fall, I will be studying music composition at my dream school, Baylor. I will study under Dr. McAllister, a gifted composer whose love for the Lord is clear in all that he does. I’m confident that I will be equipped to write beautiful music there, but since my parents can’t contribute meaningfully to my college education, private scholarships like this one are the only way for me to graduate without thousands of dollars in debt. I trust that God will provide, though. He’s the one who gifted me with music and talent, after all– I owe Him everything. Our God sent His only son to save me from my sin! The least I can do is share that message using the gifts He’s given me.

Jesus paid it all, All to him I owe. Sin had left a crimson stain– He washed me white as snow. These lyrics bring a powerful memory to my mind. I’m standing in a room filled with believers. Our faces are turned to Heaven, eyes closed, tears running down our cheeks. For the final chorus, every instrument stops playing, and we sing a cappella. All I hear are voices in unison, praising God for His mercy, and I think, “I owe Him everything.” Music has a way of impacting us, especially music that shares the gospel message. Truths about who I am and what God has done for me are stored as melodies in my mind. When I’m overwhelmed by anxiety, fear, or pain, those lyrics come to mind and encourage me. I often think about the composers of classic hymns like “Jesus Paid It All.” Did they have any idea their compositions would bring tears to the eyes of Christians, even decades after their death? For me, writing is an involuntary response to emotion. When I’m overwhelmed by the goodness of God, I put it in song. When I was twelve, I had the opportunity to join the worship team at my church, playing piano. That’s quite a young age, and if I’m being honest, I was probably not ready for that. However, it was exactly what I needed. Years of serving as a pianist and vocalist created growth both as a person and a musician. Over time, I didn’t just play piano– I shared songs that I wrote. I’ve noticed many people voicing the same concern: we need more great worship music. We don’t have enough modern worship with theologically deep lyrics. I would love to continue to create songs that glorify God and that are creative and unique– songs that soften hearts and minds. This is a way I can serve the Lord and His church. This coming fall, I will be studying music composition at my dream school, Baylor. I will study under Dr. McAllister, a gifted composer whose love for the Lord is clear in all that he does. I’m confident that I will be equipped to write beautiful music there, but since my parents can’t contribute meaningfully to my college education, private scholarships like this one are the only way for me to graduate without thousands of dollars in debt. I trust that God will provide, though. He’s the one who gifted me with music and talent, after all– I owe Him everything. Our God sent His only son to save me from my sin! The least I can do is share that message using the gifts He’s given me.

For lunch, I’d have Beethoven. For dinner, some Cecelia Bartoli or Miles Davis. Breakfast might involve waking up to Broadway soundtracks from old musicals. Growing up, I never realized that my parents’ menu of music was a bit… unique. I owe so much to the depth and variety of music I was exposed to as a child– it shaped me as a person, a pianist, and a composer. High school, however, was when I began taking control over music’s influence in my life. Every chapter had its own soundtrack, and each one is representative of my evolution as a person. Due to my parents –huge, lovable dorks, if you hadn’t already noticed– I wasn’t exposed to pop music until freshman year. As I explored my own identity, I realized I don’t have to only listen to what my parents like. My first foray into pop involved 21 Pilots, Imagine Dragons, and One Republic. It’s an era I look back on with laughter, but it was the first step in refining my own taste. Sophomore year was similar; I found popular music like Dua Lipa and Taylor Swift that gave me a sense of belonging and connection with friends, at least for a little while. However, this set the stage for an important shift. I was yearning for authenticity. It was time to reconnect with my roots. I remember outlining my family tree for a school project, tracing those branches back to New Orleans, the birthplace of jazz. I was missing the depth and complexity of the music I was raised on. As I matured, I gained a greater understanding of the emotional power music holds– how it can be used to communicate emotion, culture, and unity. That’s when sparks lit up inside me, and I decided I wanted to be the one bringing that unity through music. Senior year is when I truly discovered my passion for innovation, originality, and sheer creativity in music. Songwriter and singer RAYE may have rocked my world a little bit with her record "This Album May Contain Hope." The fusion of orchestral and pop, Broadway and EDM, vintage and modern– it sparks so much joy. Worlds collide in jaw-dropping ways, and I love it. Similarly, I fell in love with Laufey’s modern take on classical, bossa nova, and jazz, and Harry Styles’ recent experimental pop. Some of the most amazing music, I realized, happens when you mix wildly different genres or styles. Music has a way of bringing together wildly different people, too. That’s one of my favorite things about it; it’s a shared love that creates connection and unity. Through every era, I can trace the impact music has had on who I am. I wish I could thank each influential musician for teaching me more about myself and what I want to do with my talent and passion. As a composer, I hope to have that kind of impact on future generations. Right now, there’s a hunger for uniqueness and creativity in music. Perhaps people want what feels human in the midst of a world changed by AI, or maybe they’re just tired of repetitive pop songs with the same four chords. Either way, I want to write music that fulfills that desire for originality and freshness. I want to write music so raw and authentic, it helps young people find their voice. I want to write music so joyful and complex, it brings people together. I want to take inspiration from musicians throughout the ages to create something innovative, emotional, and unique.

“Poop on their heads!” I hear this often, coming from the over-caffeinated lips of my eccentric piano teacher. It’s just one of her many unusual phrases; phrases that leave me thinking, “This woman does not care what anyone thinks.” Mrs. Treese found me halfway through high school and changed everything. I’ve had every stereotypical piano teacher, from the strict one who whacked my fingers when they weren’t curved to the too-sweet lady who would rather me not compete to avoid hurt feelings. Nobody has come close to Mrs. Treese. Piano was my first love. As soon as I could reach the piano bench, I was up there trying to play (an extremely simplified) Pachabell’s “Canon in D.” But strange as it sounds, I didn’t think of myself as truly talented until Mrs. Treese banged me over the head with it. It was a confidence deficit, and if there’s anything Mrs Treese knows about, it’s confidence. Barely a month after our first lesson, she plopped Gershwin’s First Prelude in front of me. “I think you should play this for the ASMTA competition,” she stated. “You’re gonna love it.” She was right. I did love it. Small problem– the competition was in just two months, and Gershwin had the biggest hands known to man. My small hands could barely stretch to all the notes this long-fingered genius played with ease. I knew –or thought I knew– there was no chance of winning, especially in the advanced level she’d put me in. That’s the thing about Mrs. Treese, though. She fully, genuinely believes you can do whatever you set your mind to. That shows up in her community impact; she finds ways to bring music and joy to everyone. Sometimes that looks like energetically leading our region’s music festivals. Other times it looks like bringing live music to local nursing homes and malls. But most of the time it’s in one-on-one connection. She has this way of encouraging you with an almost angry, sarcastic tone, like she’s frustrated that you can’t see what she sees. “You’ll be fabulous!” with a growl. “You’ll blow their minds,” with a glare. With a tight squeeze, she sent me spinning out of my comfort zone. And, as you might’ve guessed by now, it paid off. The regional competition led to the state competition, which led to a first-place medal, and many more followed. Now, at the end of senior year, I no longer need her to push me out of my comfort zone. I’ve sent in my compositions to national competitions and music conservatories. Next year, I will study at Baylor, Mrs. Treese’s alma mater, where I earned one of the few music composition spots. I even started my own piano studio, and she guided me in teaching my own students. “It’s not just about the instrument,” she told me, “Really, it’s about relationships.” She has no idea how much I felt that in my core, because it’s not her fingering or the theory that changed me. It’s the relationship she built, the confidence she instilled, and the encouragement she shared. I aim to make that kind of difference in the lives of my students, friends, and community. I want to take her enthusiastic, loving attitude and apply it to all of my relationships. “Just play your best!” I hear her say. “And if they don’t like it, poop on their heads!”

I committed my first crime at six years old, and it might be the reason I'm a musician. Everyone’s got one – maybe stealing a sibling’s toy or an off-limits candy bar. Mine was my parents’ iPad. I remember tiptoeing, cartoon-like, into my parents’ room to snatch the forbidden device, but it wasn’t to play video games: it was for music. I sat in shadow at the top of the stairway and found an app I don't remember now that played an endless loop of Pachelbel's "Canon in D." I held it to my ear, closed my eyes, and listened. And I cried. I cried like I'd lost something. How could three violins make my young soul ache with longing and wonder? I didn’t understand my reaction to the music, but I leaned against the wall for a long time, letting the colors of the strings wash over each other, hues changing as the melodies overlapped. Even then, something in me was aching to create. Behind every treasured song, whether that’s a string quartet or a pop ballad, is the invisible composer. They tend to be the last thing we think about when listening to a piece of music– we’re distracted by the singer or perhaps the instruments. However, without composers, there would be nothing to sing and nothing to play. For me, songwriting is an outflow of emotion. Music has the power to comfort those who are hurting, empower those who need confidence, and transport you to another time and place. Composers like me capture those emotions in musical notes, so they can be felt by those who need them most. Right now, there’s a hunger for uniqueness and creativity in music. Perhaps people want what feels human in the midst of a world changed by AI, or maybe they’re just tired of repetitive pop songs with the same four chords. Either way, I want to write music that fulfills that desire for originality and freshness. I want to capture human emotion in a way that heals and comforts. I want to combine wildly different genres and bring together wildly different people. Maybe I can bring a little more beauty into the world– a little more magic. Although I have big dreams about doing that on a larger scale in the future, community impact starts in the everyday moments. One of my favorite ways to do that has been teaching piano lessons. Although it’s something I love, it’s also a way to serve children in my community who might not be able to afford lessons otherwise. Fostering a love for music is so important, and so are the relationships you build along the way. I know my music teachers have had a huge impact on the person I am today, and I want to pay it forward by being a role model and friend to my own students. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that when people are aching, lonely, and depressed, they turn to music. When they’re celebrating, joyful, they turn to music. Society needs musicians –artists– in order to thrive, not just survive. I want to be the artist planting seeds of change and beauty in this world. I want to write the song so beautiful that it brings a child to tears and inspires them to create as well.

“She’s going to grow up to be the dictator of a small country!” My parents voiced this concern to each other in hushed voices as I took command of –or rather, terrorized– every group of young children. They didn’t tell me this, of course, until I was old enough to have outgrown my dictatorial tendencies. As a kid, I was bright, manipulative, and bossy. I was that kid. I wasn’t spoiled –no, my strict Cajun mother made sure of that– but that didn’t stop me from being a holy terror. I had to grow up, mature, and endure some tough times to learn some much-needed soft skills. It took growth in every area to go from “terrifying little dictator” to “pleasant, mature leader.” It also involved stepping out of my comfort zone in speech and debate, as well as the loving influence of my mother. The first thing I needed to work on was communication. Don't get me wrong– I was very comfortable communicating. Loudly. The issue was that I couldn’t communicate well. My whole leadership philosophy was “Look at me! I know what I’m doing, so you should listen to me!” Most of the time, people don’t take that very well. I remember my mom telling me, “Lydia, the only way you can make people do what you want them to do is by making them want to do it.” Contrarian that I was, I racked my brain to find an example where that didn’t hold true, but she was right. No one will listen to you unless you give them a good reason to. That’s where Speech and Debate came in, teaching me to communicate persuasively. I noticed that the students who came across as self-absorbed and prideful rarely won, regardless of the quality of their debates. I found that a lack of humility instantly undermines your trustworthiness. I learned to think critically, put those thoughts into words effectively, and present them with confidence and a smile. No-one pushed me further or gave me more confidence than my mother. She made it her mission to give me the best education possible, and that meant educating herself on how to best do that. Growing up, I watched her read stacks of books about the mind, behavior, and growth. She set an example of someone who is always learning; She is both a student and a teacher. Still, a sharp mind devoid of empathy leads right back to the dictator mindset I started with. As a kid, my lack of care for others was a huge concern of my mother’s, and i is looking back, I can see why. Thankfully, though, we humans are not stagnant beings. Especially in our youth, we’re capable of tremendous growth. I became an emotionally intelligent person because of my patient mom, and I learned to communicate those emotions with the help of speech and debate. In a few months, I’ll turn the page to the next chapter of my life. I earned one of the highly competitive spots in Baylor University’s music composition program, and I hope to hone both my musical and interpersonal skills there. Through effective communication, collaborative leadership, and an abundance of empathy, I hope to make a positive impact on my community. In my career as a songwriter, producer, and entrepreneur, these skills will prove invaluable. I want to bridge emotional experiences, bring wildly different people and genres together, and create uniqueness and depth. In case you were wondering, my family no longer worries about me becoming a dictator. Now, they believe I’ll change the world for the better.

Behind every treasured song, whether that’s a string quartet or a pop ballad, is the invisible composer. They tend to be the last thing we think about when listening to a piece of music– we’re distracted by the singer or perhaps the instruments. However, without composers, there would be nothing to sing and nothing to play. For me, songwriting is an outflow of emotion. It’s a way to communicate what words can’t. Music has the power to comfort those who are hurting, empower those who need confidence, and transport you to another time and place. Composers like me capture those emotions in musical notes, so they can be felt by those who need them most. Music helped carry me through pain and weakness. I was twelve when POTS symptoms turned up, and as I aged, they broadened into Dysautonomia. It’s a weird medical condition with weird effects; I worried the doctors wouldn’t believe that I became blind with sparkles and static, or that I can’t sleep because the world is shrinking and expanding. As I neared sophomore year, my ocular migraines were so severe that I became bedridden for days. I wondered how I would keep up with my studies and my musical passion. Physics class was the first to go, and as an academically driven student, I was crushed. Would I have to drop out of my other classes, too? How would this affect my GPA? If I don’t qualify for merit scholarships, will I even be able to afford college? There was only one thing to do. I had to learn how to work with my body, instead of against it. My two biggest takeaways seem contradictory at first. First: I can do hard things. My circumstances are not an excuse. Change-makers throughout history have dealt with much worse than I have, and they didn’t let it stop them. Second: there’s no shame in resting. I can work twice as hard when I feel well, and I can rest twice as hard when a migraine hits. The two are not mutually exclusive; after all, life is more than constant productivity. That’s why it’s so important to find balance. I’ve found mine despite my health; I've found a balance that allows me to hone my musical talents and academic prowess while prioritizing health and rest. Even when my health was at its worst, creativity brought me joy. Like me, people are hungry for uniqueness and creativity in music. Perhaps they want what feels human in the midst of a world changed by AI, or maybe they’re just tired of repetitive pop songs with the same four chords. Either way, I want to write music that fulfills that desire for originality and freshness. I want to capture human emotion in a way that heals and comforts. I want to combine wildly different genres and bring together wildly different people. Maybe I can bring a little more beauty into the world– a little more magic.

Clunk! I passed out again. It was a few minutes before my mom found me on the floor, and my vision wasn’t back yet. I was twelve when POTS symptoms started showing up, but for a while, we thought I was just… weird. Passing out was a part of daily life, and “Alice in Wonderland” symptoms kept me up all night. (I know, it sounds made up!) It wasn’t until I started having debilitating ocular migraines that the cardiologist told me this was bigger than POTS – it was Dysautonomia. It explained a lot– the migraines that blind me, my complete inability to regulate temperature, and the serious weight loss that officially put me in the “malnourished” category. As I neared sophomore year, my ocular migraines were so severe, I became bedridden for days. I felt crazy, and I wondered how I would keep up with school. Physics class was the first to go, and as an academically driven student, I was crushed. Would I have to drop out of my other classes, too? How would this affect my GPA? If I don’t qualify for merit scholarships, will I even be able to afford college? There was only one thing to do. I had to learn how to work with my body, instead of against it. My two biggest takeaways seem contradictory at first. First: I can do hard things. My circumstances are not an excuse. Change-makers throughout history have dealt with much worse than I have, and they didn’t let it stop them. Second: there’s no shame in resting. I can work twice as hard when I feel okay, and I can rest twice as hard when a migraine hits. The two are not mutually exclusive; after all, life is more than constant productivity. So although I still deal with the dizziness, discomfort, and danger, I choose to live with joy and intentionality. I am not crazy, and I am not weird. My health struggles have helped me become the passionate, empathetic person I am today. That’s why, even when I’m in pain, I feel no bitterness. I’ve found my balance, despite my health. I can confidently say that my circumstances don’t define me; my actions do. Knowing this, I put my all into studying and applying for colleges. However, when I got accepted into my dream school, Baylor, I felt no excitement. Why would I? Tuition alone is 67K a year. My parents saved what they could for my college, but it would hardly make a dent in one year at Baylor. The academic scholarships they gave me, however, sparked a little hope. Maybe, if I work during college and write scholarship essays like it’s my job, I could make it happen. My mom is not so sure. She’s already worried about me going away, given the state of my health. “What will happen on the nights where you wake up in pain, ready to pass out? Who will take care of you?” I’m confident I'll be able to find good friends who will care for me when I'm sick, but college debt is a harder problem to solve. Private scholarships like this one are the only way I could graduate from my dream school without thousands of dollars of debt. Even so, if there’s anything I’ve learned these past few years, it’s that I can overcome huge obstacles. I will continue to face them my whole life, so I’m determined to meet them with joy and determination.

"Jesus paid it all, All to him I owe. Sin had left a crimson stain– He washed me white as snow." These lyrics bring a powerful memory to my mind. I’m standing in a room filled with believers. Our faces are turned to Heaven, eyes closed, tears running down our cheeks. For the final chorus, every instrument stops playing and we sing acapella. All I hear is voices in unison, praising God for his mercy, and I think, “I owe Him everything.” Music has a way of impacting us, especially music that shares the gospel message. Truths about who I am and what God has done for me are stored as melodies in my mind. When I’m overwhelmed by anxiety, fear, or pain, those lyrics come to mind and encourage me. I often think about the composers of classic hymns like “Jesus Paid it All.” Did they have any idea their compositions would bring tears to the eyes of Christians, even decades after their death? For me, writing is an involuntary response to emotion. When I’m overwhelmed by the goodness of God, I put it in song. When I was twelve, I had the opportunity to join the worship team at my church, playing piano. That’s quite a young age, and if I’m being honest, I was probably not ready for that. However, It was exactly what I needed. Years of leading worship created growth both as a person and a musician. Over time, I didn’t just play piano– I shared songs that I wrote. I’ve noticed many people I know saying the same thing: We need more great worship music. We don’t have much modern worship with theologically deep lyrics. I would love to create songs that glorify God and are creative and unique– songs that soften hearts and minds. This coming fall, I will be studying music composition at my dream school, Baylor. I will study under Dr. McAllister, a gifted composer whose love for the Lord is clear in all that he does. I’m confident that I will be equipped to write beautiful music there, but since my parents can’t contribute meaningfully to my college education, private scholarships like this one are the only way for me to graduate without thousands of dollars in debt. I trust that God will provide, though. He’s the one who gifted me with music and talent, after all– I owe Him everything. Our God sent His only son to save me from my sin! The least I can do is share that message using the gifts He’s given me.