Do you know the difference between diverticulitis and gastritis? I sure do. And so does my father. After a family meal in 2019, my dad began feeling severe abdominal pains. After being diagnosed with gastritis and diverticulitis, he was prescribed antibiotics and told to avoid sharp seeds and nuts. As a twelve-year-old, I was concerned, but assumed it would pass. A few years ago, I became fascinated by nutrition. I spent my free time reading studies and watching videos on nerdy topics like how soluble fiber regulates blood glucose levels. I wanted to know how our bodies work. Applying this knowledge to my own diet, I was surprised by how much it impacted my daily life. Food quickly became my primary passion. But despite all I was learning, I did not have answers for my father. He went from one GI doctor to another without finding answers. Doctors frequently gave him contradictory advice, and his pain persisted. I particularly remember a morning last year when he drove me to school after not sleeping at all due to the pain. I could not focus during first period that day. Watching my father navigate our medical system taught me why patient advocacy is so vital in today’s healthcare industry. Because modern medicine is incredibly specialized, it can be extremely disconnected. This is especially apparent in the GI medical field. When patients are passed between many specialists, they often feel confused and are not actually helped. My father’s experience demonstrates that treating a patient requires looking at the whole person, not just managing one symptom. Over time, I started connecting my personal research with freshman biology and sophomore chemistry. I realized my self-taught knowledge was limited; nutrition was more than macronutrients. It was genetics, gut bacteria, and enzymes. I wanted to understand the science behind the contradictions of modern medicine. During my senior year, I joined my school’s biology club, enrolled in AP Biology, and began assisting my mother, a scientist, in her lab at UC Irvine. This experience showed me how biology is studied in real labs. And, I found it genuinely interesting. For me, there was no "spark moment" when I realized what I wanted to do with my life, but a steady realization that I wanted to spend my life helping others be healthy. I am determined to make the most of my time at UC Santa Barbara, majoring in biology. I plan to maintain the best grades that I possibly can, gain lab experience, and pursue research. UCSB offers many opportunities in microbiology and cellular systems, which will allow me to explore the biological pathways of human health. By my senior year, I intend to have published at least one study, ideally as a lead author. During graduate school, I hope to further investigate human health. I hope to study how dietary components interact with genes to alter the metabolic outputs of the gut microbiome. I may also study how gene-editing technologies (which I find fascinating) may be employed to treat many issues with gut microbiota. I hope to have a very strong dissertation. Ultimately, I plan to become a professor in a field related to molecular and cellular biology, focusing on gut health. My goal is to connect research with real-world medicine, providing the concrete answers our medical system so severely lacks. Resolving these mysteries for patients like my father is how I believe I will find professional and personal fulfillment and serve as a patient advocate.

Growing up in Southern California near the beach, I have always had a special connection with the ocean. Throughout my life, I have enjoyed beautiful sunsets, hot summer afternoons, and even winter rainstorms on the beach near my home. The ocean possesses a kind of beauty and mysteriousness that is different from other natural environments. When viewing it from the shore, it seems vast and uniform. But from snorkeling, scuba diving, reading, and learning about the ocean, one learns that it is the opposite of uniform. It is highly diverse, being home to an unimaginable number and variety of life-forms. When I first learned about the Pacific Garbage Patch in elementary school, I was disheartened and afraid. I do not wish for the pristine beauty of the ocean to be polluted as it is being polluted now. This is the reason why I love the ocean, and the reason why I feel the need to protect it. I am currently planning on majoring in biology at the University of California, Santa Barbara. I am not sure if I will end up majoring in marine biology or in another branch of biology, but I will most likely work towards improving the crises of climate change and global pollution. One technology I have been researching recently that would greatly benefit the oceans and the environment as a whole is Programmable Bioremediation Nanoswarms (PBNs). While some research has been conducted on this concept, it is still largely theoretical and very futuristic. What are PBNs? PBNs are nanotechnology that employ a massive group of self-propelled, microscopic robots that can target and break down pollutants in soil, lakes, or oceans, leaving behind no ecological footprint. Each individual “unit” or “organism” would be equipped with synthetic receptors, which could be programmed to respond to a specific pollutant, such as BPA or microplastics. Once these organisms locate the pollutant, they would secrete specialized molecules that would break down the pollutants into harmless substances. I may work toward making this technology a reality in order to reduce pollution in our oceans. If I do study marine biology specifically, I will focus on understanding how synthetic ecological interventions like Programmable Bioremediation Nanoswarms can be safely integrated into fragile marine ecosystems without disrupting natural biological processes. Studying this will combine my personal love of the ocean and desire to protect it with my fascination with cellular and molecular biology. While theoretical technologies offer exciting potential for cleaning up microplastics and chemical toxins, their long-term impact on marine biodiversity must be evaluated through research and controlled experiments. As stated previously, these technologies are highly theoretical currently. By combining an education in both organismal biology and advanced biotechnology, I hope to bridge the gap between cutting-edge engineering and conservation. Ultimately, I hope to research and build solutions for combating pollution. By using bioengineering and my passion for the ocean, I hope to make our seas less polluted for both humanity’s sake and for the sake of all aquatic organisms. If my career allows me to leave our oceans and beaches cleaner than they are now, I will have led a happy and fulfilling life.

Do you know the difference between diverticulitis and gastritis? I sure do. And so does my father. After a family meal in 2019, my dad began feeling severe abdominal pains. After being diagnosed with gastritis and diverticulitis, he was prescribed antibiotics and told to avoid sharp seeds and nuts. As a twelve-year-old, I was concerned, but assumed it would pass. A few years ago, I began weightlifting and became fascinated by nutrition. I spent my free time reading studies and watching videos on topics like how soluble fiber regulates blood glucose levels. I wanted to know how our bodies work. Applying this knowledge to my own diet, I was surprised by how much it impacted my daily life. Food quickly became my primary passion. But despite all I was learning, I did not have answers for my father. He went from one GI doctor to another without finding good answers. Doctors frequently gave him contradictory advice, and his pain persisted. I particularly remember a morning last year when he drove me to school after not sleeping at all due to the pain. I could not focus during first period that day. Over time, I started connecting my personal research with freshman biology and sophomore chemistry. I realized my self-taught knowledge was limited; nutrition was more than macronutrients. It was genetics, gut bacteria, and enzymes. I wanted to understand the science behind the contradictions of modern medicine. Consequently, I joined my school’s biology club, enrolled in AP Biology, and began assisting my mother, a research scientist, in her lab at UC Irvine. This experience showed me how biology is studied in real labs. For me, there was no single "spark moment", but a steady realization that I wanted to spend my life helping others be healthy. I am determined to make the most of my time at UC Santa Barbara, majoring in biology. I plan to maintain the best grades that I possibly can, gain lab experience as early as freshman year, and pursue independent research. UCSB offers many opportunities in microbiology and cellular systems, which will allow me to explore the biological pathways of human health. By my senior year, I aim to have published at least one study, ideally as a lead author. During graduate school, I hope to further investigate human health. I hope to study how dietary components interact with genes to alter the metabolic outputs of the gut microbiome. I may also study how gene-editing technologies (which I find fascinating) may be employed to treat many issues with gut microbiota. I hope to have a very strong dissertation by the end of graduate school. Ultimately, I plan to become a professor in a field related to molecular and cellular biology, focusing on gut health. My goal is to connect research with real-world clinical medicine, providing the concrete answers our medical system so severely lacks. Resolving these mysteries for patients like my father is how I believe I will find professional and personal fulfillment. Additionally, by becoming a scientist, I will help our culture be more truth-seeking and thoughtful. Interacting with others as a scientist and thinker will hopefully allow me to spread love of thought and truth among the people I communicate with. While misinformation can spread easily, I believe that by nurturing love of science among one's community, truth can spread as well. I hope to contribute to the expansion of human knowledge throughout the world, starting with a great college education.

I am absolutely determined to make the most of my time as an undergraduate at the University of California, Santa Barbara. After graduating, I plan to attend graduate school, and ultimately contribute to breakthroughs in the field of biology. During my time at UCSB, I plan to earn straight As during each year of college. This will be difficult, but achievable using habits I built in high school. For instance, I have overcome procrastination and begun to set goals before studying. Rather than studying each topic equally, I have learned to focus on weaknesses and to quiz myself frequently leading up to exams. These habits allowed me to earn a 4.2807 total weighted GPA and straight As during my last two years. I also plan on gaining lab experience early in college. My father, a professor at the University of California, Irvine, advises me to look into joining a lab as early as possible. During my sophomore and junior years, I plan on working on independent research, and during my senior year, I hope to work towards a publication while applying to graduate school. UCSB has several opportunities for research involving gene-editing technology, organ regeneration, and human consciousness, all of which are of particular interest to me. By the end of my time at UCSB, I hope to have a minimum of one publication, ideally as a lead author. By doing this, I will not only put myself ahead of other graduate school applicants, but I will be starting my career as a scientist. During graduate school, I hope to continue to excel academically and ultimately to produce a very strong dissertation. Afterwards, I will likely complete a postdoctoral fellowship for two to three years. Ultimately, I plan to become a professor in a field related to molecular and cellular biology. I hope to make breakthroughs in the field that have a positive impact on humanity: not just how to cure one illness, but how to cure entire disease classes. I genuinely believe that if I make a discovery that could allow us to regenerate any tissues or cure Alzheimer’s disease or cancer, I will feel truly happy and fulfilled.

I have spent a significant portion of my life thinking about Alzheimer’s Disease, but not for the reason that many people do. My mother is a researcher at the University of California, Irvine. Her lab focuses on studying the molecular and cellular bases of Down syndrome and Alzheimer's Disease. I personally have not had a close friend or relative suffer from dementia, but I do have a unique perspective on dementia-related illnesses due to my mom’s research. I aim to become a medical researcher in the future in order to study chronic illnesses, possibly focusing on dementia, in order to help patients live happier and healthier lives. I remember one time as a child when I went to my mom’s lab. I was probably seven or eight. I remember looking under a microscope at some neurons or dendrocytes (I forget exactly what kind of cell they were). My mom explained to me what I was looking at and later went on to explain how Alzheimer’s disease worked, which was a totally foreign concept to me. Her description invoked a deep sense of deep dread in me. As a young child in perfect health, I had thought little about death or disease. The idea of a person gradually losing their cognitive ability, and ultimately, passing away from Alzheimer’s deeply scared me. Since then, dementia has been one of my greatest fears in life. As I have grown older, I have learned more and more about neurodegenerative disorders, and how prevalent they are. The possibility of losing our minds and memories in old age is one that we all must face. In a way, dementia takes away a person’s individuality and dignity. This is especially noticeable in Alzheimer’s disease. Initially, a patient will have minor forgetfulness, which will progress into loss of memory of basic facts and personality changes, which will finally lead to the loss of the ability to speak and control movement. It is difficult to put into words the tragedy of the final stages of Alzheimer’s disease. The slow and inevitable mental deterioration of the disease demonstrates exactly where our modern science and technology is lacking. I have seen how dementia has impacted my community. Not at a personal level, but through the broader lens of public health and local care networks. Living in a university town and community heavily intertwined with academic medical research, the conversation around aging and neurodegenerative disease is quite common. I see its ripple effects at community health fairs, in local support groups for overburdened caregivers, and in the struggles of aging neighbors whose families bear the immense emotional and financial weight of round-the-clock care. I also watch videos and read about dementia in order to educate myself about the topic. Dementia is not just a clinical diagnosis; it is a societal challenge that strains community resources, isolates families, and highlights the urgent need for accessible support systems and further research. Being exposed to the horror of Alzheimer’s disease and dementia has illustrated to me how severe these problems can be. However, having been exposed to my mom’s research also gives me a sense of hope. Around the start of my senior year of high school, I began helping my mom in her lab at UCI, where I helped count nuclei in cells, or assisted wherever I could. In addition, I plan on soon learning basic biological techniques like polymerase chain reaction (PCR). This experience has given me an understanding of how biology is studied in the real world, rather than simply learning about biology in a classroom. I am determined to make the most of my time as an undergraduate majoring in biology at the University of California, Santa Barbara. During my time at UCSB, I aim to gain significant lab experience. By my sophomore and junior years, I plan on working on independent research, and by my senior year, I hope to work towards a publication while applying to graduate school. UCSB has several opportunities for research involving gene-editing technology, cellular systems, and dementia, which will allow me to explore the underlying biological pathways of human health. By the end of my time at UCSB, I hope to have a minimum of one publication, ideally as a lead author. By doing this, I will not only put myself ahead of other graduate school applicants, but I will be starting my career as a scientist. Ultimately, I plan to become a professor in a field related to molecular and cellular biology. It is very possible that I will study dementia or Alzheimer’s disease like my mom, although I cannot honestly say for sure. The possibility of developing dementia is frightening, but science provides hope. Research has cured many diseases and ailments throughout human history, and I believe that dementia can be solved too. The impact I hope to have on my field is to connect abstract laboratory science with everyday clinical medicine. I want to provide the concrete scientific answers that our current medical system lacks. Hopefully, I can replace the uncertainty so many patients have with more certain treatments. I genuinely believe that if I make discoveries that unravel the mysteries of dementia and improve the efficacy of our medical system, I will be truly happy and fulfilled.

"Virtue, then, is a state of deliberate moral purpose, consisting in a mean that is relative to ourselves, this mean being determined by reason or as a prudent man would determine it. It is a mean first as being between two vices, the one that of excess, the other that of defect; and secondly because whereas these vices either fall short of or exceed what is right in feelings and actions, virtue finds and adopts the mean. Hence, if we regard virtue in its essence and ideal definition, it is a mean; though if we regard it from the point of view of what is best and most excellent, it is an extreme." Aristotle Nicomachean Ethics, Book II, Chapter 6 With this excerpt from Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle explores the nature of morality, arguing that morality requires moderation rather than extremes. Maintaining this state of restraint requires deliberate, individual effort. Morality cannot be achieved on the individual level through brashness or emotion alone; rather, it requires reason and logic. Through a structural contrast of "the mean" and "the extreme," Aristotle suggests that personal fulfillment and ethical stability are achieved only when reason is utilized to master the volatile impulses of human emotion. Aristotle argues that tending to adopt either of two possible extremes usually leads to moral decay. With any given trait, such as courage, integrity, or honesty, one can exhibit either too little or too much of these traits. He states, “It is a mean first as being between two vices, the one that of excess, the other that of defect”. This “excess” as he argues, involves too much of a given behavior. For instance, given the trait of honesty, exhibiting excess honesty would involve being honest to a point of being rude. Thus, excessive truthfulness is not virtuous, but a tool of cruelty. Excess, in this light, corrupts the inherent value of virtue itself. Aristotle also argues that one can display too little of a given trait. This he refers to as “defect”. Extending the example of honesty, if one is usually or always dishonest, this of course will lead to moral decay and the worsening of society as well. Dishonesty serves as the basis for distrust, which ultimately leads to conflict. A society built upon citizens that are deceitful cannot remain stable for this reason. If everyone or most people were to normalize the behavior of lying, it would ultimately cause not only rampant confusion and distrust, but ultimately, societal breakdown. This seems obvious, and yet, humans have lied throughout history to one another with the intention of furthering their own self-interest. This lying itself could also be viewed as valuing self-interest excessively. When one values themselves too much, they become more extreme in behaviors which benefit themselves. However, if one exhibits the “defect” of self-interest, they may become too willing to give and to sacrifice. By exploring these two hazards, Aristotle shows that vices are not necessarily opposite forces to virtue, but are instead the mathematical outliers of virtue. They are the result of a behavior being pushed too far in either direction. Since adopting either extreme of a given behavior is unhealthy, Aristotle argues that the correct way to act involves pursuing a compromise in oneself between exhibiting too much and too little of a given behavior. Since moral extremes are dangerous, the natural conclusion is that we must exhibit moderation in our behaviors. However, this establishes the question of how to determine what constitutes moral moderation. Aristotle answers this question by arguing that the moral path is "relative to ourselves," which introduces a vital element of human reason into his philosophy. By asserting that the ideal middle ground changes depending on the individual and the context, Aristotle acknowledges the complexity and changing nature of human society. What constitutes courage for one person might manifest as reckless impulsivity for another; what qualifies as modesty in a position of power might be perceived as cowardice in a state of subjugation. Thus, people have an obligation to remain vigilant and to use reason in deciding what is the right thing to do in a given situation. Instead of presenting morality as a simple list of forbidden and required actions, Aristotle implies that the real danger to human society lies in the inability to be fluid and to adapt to changing societies. Conforming to old rules solely because they were once perceived as true does not allow for these rules to adapt to inevitable societal change. True moral wisdom requires a constant, active evaluation of one's specific circumstances (or “deliberate moral purpose”), meaning that morality cannot be based upon tradition or thoughtless habit. It must be continually calculated by the individual mind. Aristotle concludes this excerpt by highlighting the paradoxical conclusion of his philosophy: while morality is a mean, when viewed from the perspective of individual excellence, it is an extreme. The philosopher argues that when viewed from “the point of view of what is best and most excellent”, moral moderation is an extreme. This is because maintaining moderation in one's behavior, whether with regard to morals or otherwise, is extremely difficult. As noted earlier, being moderate in behavior involves “deliberate moral purpose”. As the text argues, the moderation which should be strived for does not come naturally, but out of intentional, individual effort. Most people will be extreme in one or more of their traits and may exhibit extreme behavior in a given situation. Most people have predispositions to adopt at least some extreme behaviors, or, when put into emotionally charged scenarios, they will not be able to act in a balanced manner. Moral temperance requires a level of self-control and intellectual clarity that few consistently manage to maintain. Since the majority of people will inevitably not be exceptional at finding this middle ground which Aristotle argues is best, it is very rare among people, and thus an extreme. By contrasting "the mean" and "the extreme," Aristotle argues that personal morality and societal stability are achieved only when reason is utilized to master the extreme impulses of human emotion. He argues that adopting too little or too much of a behavior leads to instability, and that humanity ought to strive for moral moderation when making decisions. Aristotle’s reminder of the need for moderation serves as a reminder against accepting extremes as normal. Especially in modern society, which is far more polarized in political and ideological belief than ever before, Aristotle’s message is even more significant. Today, social discourse is often dominated by black-and-white thinking, which causes the very vices that Aristotle cautioned us about. We must remember that extreme actions lead to extreme outcomes, such as distrust and hatred among people, as well as social chaos. The reader ought to remember Aristotle's message in order to form a safer and more perfect world.

I believe that the best way to learn a life lesson is through real-life experience. Experiencing a valuable lesson first-hand leads to a lesson being ingrained in a person’s psyche. Unfortunately (or perhaps fortunately) it is not always possible to experience the turmoils and struggles depicted in a book. But platitudes are not sufficient in learning a lesson either. This is where the value of literature, especially fiction, lies. In reading fiction, we experience the actions, thoughts, and feelings of the characters second-hand. In doing so, we learn life lessons which remain with us far longer than they would if given to us in a cliché expression. One of the most interesting and valuable lessons I have gained from reading has been to embrace suffering as an inevitable part of life, a lesson that is illustrated beautifully in both “Crime and Punishment” by Fyodor Dostoevsky and in Aldous Huxley’s “Brave New World”. In Brave New World, Huxley presents a dystopian society that has entirely removed pain from day-to-day life, but at the cost of genuine human emotion, art, and truth. John the Savage’s ultimate rejection of this sterilized “utopia” serves as a stark reminder that a life without struggle is fundamentally empty. Conversely, Dostoevsky’s Crime and Punishment dives into the deep, agonizing psychological guilt of Raskolnikov following his crime. Raskolnikov’s eventual redemption does not come from avoiding his punishment, but from willingly accepting his suffering in Siberia. Both of these novels illustrate that, while suffering is not something to be sought out, it is also an inevitable part of human existence. There is beauty in pain, and in the overcoming of pain, both of which must be experienced in order to truly live, rather than survive. Importantly, we learn these lessons by experiencing the story from the perspectives of the characters. This is where the beauty of these novels presents itself. Platitudes such as “You reap what you sow” can never describe the deep and complex psychology that causes Raskolnikov to commit his crime, and ultimately to redeem himself. In my personal life, these two books have transformed how I view setbacks and how I hope to conduct myself in the future. As someone who has lived a fairly privileged life, I have long tried to be grateful for all of my opportunities. However, it is very easy to adapt to what we have, and to ultimately seek out more and more. “Crime and Punishment” and “Brave New World” show that fulfillment does not come from greed. Rather, it comes from appreciating beauty, and accepting hardship as a valuable part of the beauty of human life. I know that I will remember these lessons when I inevitably struggle in the future. As I plan on becoming a scientist, I know that I will struggle at times with experiments and with dealing with the bureaucracy of academia. But remembering the lessons from books such as these will help me work through my struggles and enjoy myself along the way. Learning how to choose happiness during times of hardship not only alleviates the pain for oneself, but also for surrounding people, ultimately improving the lives of many. Literature has the power to enlighten those who choose to read it. In our world, in which people are reading less and less, it is absolutely crucial to continue to read and to encourage others to do the same. Wherever my life takes me in the future, I know that I will continue to read great literature, both for my sake and for the world’s.

Do you know the difference between diverticulitis and gastritis? I sure do. And so does my father. After a family meal in 2019, my dad began feeling severe abdominal pains. After being diagnosed with gastritis and diverticulitis, he was prescribed antibiotics and told to avoid sharp seeds and nuts. As a twelve-year-old, I was concerned, but assumed it would pass. A few years ago, I began weightlifting and became fascinated by nutrition. I spent my free time reading studies and watching videos on topics like how soluble fiber regulates blood glucose levels. I wanted to know how our bodies work. Applying this knowledge to my own diet, I was surprised by how much it impacted my daily life. Food became an obsession of mine. But despite all I was learning, I did not have answers for my father. He went from one GI doctor to another without finding good answers. On more than one occasion, a doctor would give him advice that was directly contradictory to the advice given to him by another doctor. I particularly remember a morning last year when he drove me to school after not sleeping at all due to the pain. I could not focus during first period that day. Over time, I started connecting my personal research with freshman-year biology and sophomore-year chemistry. I realized my self-taught knowledge was limited; nutrition was more than macronutrients and calories. It was genetics, gut bacteria, and enzymes. I wanted to understand the science behind the contradictions of modern medicine. Consequently, I joined my school’s biology club, enrolled in AP Biology, and began assisting my mother, a research scientist, in her lab at UC Irvine. I have helped count nuclei in cells and have also learned how to amplify DNA. This experience showed me how biology is studied in real labs. For me, there was no single "spark moment" when I knew I had to become a scientist, but a slow and steady realization that I wanted to spend my life helping others be healthy through my research. I am determined to make the most of my time at UC Santa Barbara, majoring in biology. I plan to maintain the best grades that I possibly can, gain lab experience as early as freshman year, and pursue independent research. UCSB offers many opportunities in microbiology and cellular systems, which will allow me to explore the biological pathways of human health. UCSB also has several labs which study how the gut microbiome impacts neurodevelopment, metabolic health, and pharmacology. By my senior year, I aim to have published at least one study, ideally as a lead author. During graduate school, I hope to further investigate human health. I hope to study how dietary components interact with genes to alter the metabolic outputs of the gut microbiome. I may also study how gene-editing technologies (which I find fascinating) may be employed to treat many issues with gut microbiota. I hope to have a very strong dissertation by the end of graduate school. Ultimately, I plan to become a professor in a field related to molecular and cellular biology, focusing on gut health. I hope to innovate at the intersection between gut microbiome therapy and biotechnologies. My goal is to connect research with real-world clinical medicine, providing the concrete answers our medical system so severely lacks. Resolving these mysteries for patients like my father is how I believe I will find professional and personal fulfillment.

During the spring of my junior year, I began to volunteer at Russian School of Orange County (RusOC), a school dedicated to teaching children Russian language and culture, in addition to art, history, and mathematics. It takes place every Saturday during the school year, and I personally attended the school from ages five to fifteen (my mother is Russian and wanted me to learn the language). As a child, I dreaded attending the school, just like I dreaded attending regular school. In retrospect however, I realize just how much knowledge and cultural awareness I gained from taking classes at RusOC. I began volunteering in April of 2025 in order to give back to the school that gave so much to me. My time volunteering was spent in a first-grade language class, on most Saturday mornings during the end of my junior year and throughout my senior year. Around halfway through the class, each student would begin to read independently. The teacher and I would help each student pronounce and read basic words, phrases, and sentences from their books. This experience reminded me of my own time learning the language, and how it felt to be a young student. I could see the nervousness and lack of confidence many of the children had interacting with strangers and trying to read in a language many of them were less familiar with than English. As a fairly quiet person myself, I initially gave little feedback and help to the kids, but I quickly realized that this was not ideal. I began to use my tone of voice to convey messages better and to give specific feedback to the students as to how they could improve and where they were already strong. Most of all, I learned to be patient with the students. Many children quickly lost attention, spoke extremely quietly, or struggled with very basic words and letters. I had to learn to slow down with these students and to try to teach them something at their pace. Because no one learns best in an environment where they feel judged. During my time volunteering, I worked in essence as a teacher. I gave knowledge to those who were less knowledgeable than me, and the personal rewards I gained from this experience were immeasurable. Seeing children’s minds grow as they learned gave me a unique sense of accomplishment I had not experienced before. Each time a student pronounced a sound they were previously unable to pronounce, or read at a noticeably faster pace than before, I felt I was contributing to the success of future generations. As I move forward in my education and career, I hope to continue serving my community through mentorship, education, and volunteer work. The lessons I learned while helping young students discover confidence in themselves will remain with me for years to come. Giving back to the community that helped shape me allowed me to honor its values while becoming a more compassionate and capable person myself. I do not know exactly where the future will take me, but I do know that I will continue to dedicate at least some of my time to helping others learn and grow.

For me, playing guitar has become a long-lasting marriage of sorts. Not that I am extremely experienced in marriage as an eighteen-year-old, but playing guitar has become not just something that I do, but a part of my identity. When people ask what I do with my life, one of the first things I tell them is that I play guitar. I have played acoustic guitar for over ten years, and have played electric guitar for around seven. In these years, the instrument has not only enhanced my work ethic, but has served as a source of comfort and beauty as well. I began taking guitar lessons in second grade. Although initially excited, I quickly lost interest, and for two years or so, wanted to quit. Thankfully, my parents did not allow this, and over time, the guitar began to give me clear goals to work towards. For instance, my first teacher arranged for me to play in coffee shops during open-mic nights on three separate occasions. I especially remember performing “Edelweiss” from The Sound of Music, which was the first piece that I ever performed in front of an audience. I was terrified and physically shaking, but felt like a celebrity after finishing the song and being met with a roar of applause from my small audience. During my high school years, I earned merit on both the Grade 4 and Grade 8 Associated Board of the Royal Schools of Music (ABRSM) Practical Guitar Examinations, as well as distinction on the Grade 5 Music Theory Examination. All of these endeavors required significant work, and months of planning and preparing in advance. Many times throughout these processes, I doubted myself, thinking that I did not have enough time, or simply was not skilled enough to accomplish what I wanted to. However, by continuing to push forward, I ultimately achieved both formal qualifications, and unforgettable memories. Guitar has not only strengthened my work ethic, but has also served as an incredible outlet to alleviate stress and to enjoy the beauty music provides. My guitars (a Yamaha Acoustic and a tobacco-colored Gibson Les Paul) are almost like friends to me. When I play guitar, my mind enters a different mode of thinking, and I find myself less likely to think about the day-to-day stressors of life. When my hands touch the familiar fretboard of each of my guitars, it is second-nature for me to lose myself in the beauty of music. The guitar is like a second voice of mine; when I cannot fully express what I feel, my musical voice can. This is the true beauty of playing a musical instrument. Music provides us a transcendental experience that cannot be replicated. For me, this is the real reason I play guitar. Like any long-lasting marriage, my relationship with the guitar has required patience, dedication, and work, but it has rewarded me with confidence, comfort, and a lifelong passion I hope to continue long into the future.

For three years as a child and preteen, I attended a summer camp in the San Bernardino Mountains. One of the highlights of the camp was a several-hour-long hike that led to a campground where we would spend the night in tents before returning the next day. The hike was always one of the most anticipated events of the trip. It allowed us to explore new locations, spend time with friends, and participate in fun camping activities, like roasting marshmallows. Every camper looked forward to it. One year, however, one of my friends suffered an injury shortly before the hike. This was during my second year at the camp, and his first year there. I believe he twisted his ankle, and because of that, he was unable to participate. I remember seeing how disappointed and frustrated he was. While everyone else was excited and preparing for the hike, he had to deal with the fact that he would have to stay behind. At first, I felt like there was not much I could do to help. I felt bad for him, but I assumed the situation was simply out of my hands. After thinking about it for a day or two, though, I realized that I could choose to stay behind with him instead of going on the hike. If I stayed, he would not have to spend that time alone, and I could keep him company while the rest of the camp was away. To be honest, I was not immediately enthusiastic about that idea. The hike was something I had been looking forward to for a while, and I did not want to miss out on one of the best parts of camp. Part of me wanted to just ignore and suppress the thought entirely and just enjoy the trip. However, the more I considered it, the more I felt that supporting my friend was more important than my own enjoyment. I decided that if he had to stay behind, I would stay with him. Although I was fully prepared to stay, the situation changed at the last minute. My friend's parents decided to take him home, which meant I was still able to participate in the hike after all. Even though I ultimately did not have to make the sacrifice, I had already made the choice in my mind. Later, my friend told me that his father was impressed and proud that I had been willing to stay behind for him. That comment stayed with me. Looking back, I am grateful not because I received praise, but because the experience taught me firsthand the importance of selflessness. Instead of hearing about how important caring for others is, like I had a million times in my life, I made the active decision to be selfless and what I gained from that decision has stuck with me. Sacrificing and caring for others does not only make others feel better, but it also makes oneself feel fulfilled. When I made the decision to stay behind with my friend, I experienced the deep, fulfilling joy that comes from helping others be a little happier. Selflessness begins with a choice. Almost any act of kindness can make a meaningful difference in another person's life, and I continue to remind myself of that to this day.

During the spring of my junior year, I began to volunteer at Russian School of Orange County (RusOC), a school dedicated to teaching children Russian language and culture, in addition to art, history, and mathematics. It takes place every Saturday during the school year, and I personally attended the school from ages five to fifteen (my mother is Russian and wanted me to learn the language). As a child, I dreaded attending the school, just like I dreaded attending regular school. In retrospect however, I realize just how much knowledge and cultural awareness I gained from taking classes at RusOC. I began volunteering in April of 2025 in order to give back to the school that gave so much to me. My time volunteering was spent in a first-grade language class, on most Saturday mornings during the end of my junior year and throughout my senior year. Around halfway through the class, each student would begin to read independently. The teacher and I would help each student pronounce and read basic words, phrases, and sentences from their books. This experience reminded me of my own time learning the language, and how it felt to be a young student. I could see the nervousness and lack of confidence many of the children had interacting with strangers and trying to read in a language many of them were less familiar with than English. As a fairly quiet person myself, I initially gave little feedback and help to the kids, but I quickly realized that this was not ideal. I began to use my tone of voice to convey messages better and to give specific feedback to the students as to how they could improve and where they were already strong. Most of all, I learned to be patient with the students. Many children quickly lost attention, spoke extremely quietly, or struggled with very basic words and letters. I had to learn to slow down with these students and to try to teach them something at their pace. Because no one learns best in an environment where they feel judged. During my time volunteering, I worked in essence as a teacher. I gave knowledge to those who were less knowledgeable than me, and the personal rewards I gained from this experience were immeasurable. Seeing children’s minds grow as they learned gave me a unique sense of accomplishment I had not experienced before. Each time a student pronounced a sound they were previously unable to pronounce, or read at a noticeably faster pace than before, I felt I was contributing to the success of future generations. As I move forward in my education and career, I hope to continue serving my community through mentorship, education, and volunteer work. The lessons I learned while helping young students discover confidence in themselves will remain with me for years to come. Giving back to the community that helped shape me allowed me to honor its values while becoming a more compassionate and capable person myself. I do not know exactly where the future will take me, but I do know that I will continue to dedicate at least some of my time to helping others learn and grow.

I love math because it gives me a way to understand and explain the world around me. More than any other subject, math transforms complex phenomena into patterns, relationships, and solutions. I used to dislike math, until my experience in Calculus AB during junior year. That class showed me just how powerful and useful math is. For the first time, I could see the many uses of math outside of the classroom. Instead of solving abstract problems with no clear purpose, I was using calculus to model real situations. Whether calculating how quickly the depth of liquid changes in a filling tank or determining the dimensions that maximize the volume of a box, I saw how mathematical ideas could be applied to science, business, and other real-world scenarios. I remember looking at cars and bikes outside and wondering about their velocity and acceleration functions, or thinking about related rates while filling my water bottle. During my time in calculus, I realized that math is not just a collection of formulas, but a toolbox that we use to model our world. What interests me most is the impact mathematics has across all of STEM. Engineers use calculus to design safe and efficient structures. Likewise, astrophysicists use it to model planetary motion and orbits. As someone interested in biology, I am especially intrigued by how mathematics helps scientists model population growth and the spread of diseases, and even study tumor growth. I love the idea that complex and seemingly unpredictable phenomena can actually be predicted using branches of mathematics such as calculus. I also love math because it forces me to think critically. Success in calculus required much more than memorization. Perhaps this is not the case at some high schools, but in my class, many problems presented unfamiliar situations that forced me to analyze information and develop creative solutions. I enjoyed the process of working through difficult questions and applying what I learned in new ways. For me, math is both practically and intellectually rewarding. It helps us understand our incredibly complex universe while developing the logical and critical thinking skills needed to tackle the problems of our time. That combination of thinking, problem-solving, and real-world impact is why I cherish mathematics.

One of the most meaningful things I have created in my lifetime was a cookbook. It was a Christmas present to my older sister, who had been struggling greatly with many financial and personal hardships. I did not know it at the time, but she had been dealing with a severe drug addiction while working only as a waiter. She lives in a different city than my parents and I do, having moved out several years ago now, which is part of the reason why the rest of the family was unaware of her issues. To make matters worse, she was trying to raise two daughters, while having broken up with her partner around a year before. Some time in November of 2025, she mentioned that she wanted to learn how to cook. At first, I thought this was simply a good idea, but I soon realized what I would give her for Christmas. I spent around a week leading up to Christmas creating recipes, taking pictures, and finally, printing the pages. When I gave her the cookbook on Christmas morning, she started to cry. I realized at that moment that I was helping her heal. Not just by giving her an impetus to start cooking, but by showing her that there are people who cared deeply for her. The memory of giving her that cookbook on Christmas morning has now become a memory I return to to remind myself that creations driven by compassion can transform the lives of both the giver and the receiver of the creation. If I had a large amount of money to create something meaningful, I would continue to base my creations off of my desire to help others who are struggling. As someone interested in biology and planning to major in the subject in college, I would dedicate my efforts to studying organ regeneration and developing technology that would allow damaged organs to heal themselves or be regrown. Every year, patients with failing hearts, kidneys, and other organs spend months or even years waiting for a donor. Many never receive the transplant they need. I would like to change that. My plan would begin with funding a multidisciplinary research center that brings together biologists, geneticists, biomedical engineers, and physicians. The first goal would be to understand how certain animals, such as salamanders, can naturally regenerate body parts, as well as how human liver cells regenerate. By studying the cellular and genetic mechanisms behind this process, researchers could identify pathways that may also exist in humans but are limited or inactive. The next stage would focus on regenerative medicine technologies. Using stem cells and tissue engineering, scientists could work toward growing organ tissue in laboratories. Eventually, these tissues could be used to repair damaged organs or create functional replacement organs. To ensure that the technology benefits as many people as possible, I would also partner with hospitals, universities, and government organizations. These collaborations would help use discoveries in clinical settings, while keeping costs affordable. Although creating a reliable method of organ regeneration would be a long, challenging process, its potential impact would be extraordinary. In addition to contributing to our understanding of biology, creating a safe and sustainable method for organ regeneration would help countless suffering patients. Helping those who are struggling with medical issues would not only help the patients, it would help me, just like the cookbook I gave my sister helped me. I genuinely believe that if I could grow old knowing that I helped other people be healthier, I would have lived a very fulfilling and meaningful life.

Like Charles, I have felt awkward about my height throughout my life. However, whereas he felt out of place being tall, I feel out of place being short. Although I am only slightly below average height today, this was not the case when I was in elementary school. From kindergarten to sixth grade, I had to physically look up to nearly everyone I spoke to. At times, I was mocked and ridiculed. In retrospect, this may have shaped my personality in a negative way. However, being very short also taught me many important lessons about life, as well as how to deal with people who view me in a negative light. As a child, I often felt that others thought less of me because of my height (or lack thereof). I worried about standing out for the wrong reasons and became more self-conscious than I should have been. Looking back, I realize that many of those fears existed only in my own mind. Yes, elementary school children were cruel at times, but most of the people who made fun of me were far more concerned with their own insecurities than with mine. Learning this was one of the most valuable lessons I gained from my childhood. I learned to be more compassionate to others, as those who tease and mock are often suffering the most. Being short also taught me to be more confident in my own speaking. As a naturally shy person, I could not always remain quiet when people made fun of me. I had to learn to politely tell others to stop, and to walk away when they would not. Ironically, the thing that once made me feel different eventually became something I rarely think about. As I grew older, I mostly caught up physically, but the lessons remained. Whenever I deal with criticism or speak with another person who seems out of place, I remember what it was like to be the shortest person in the room. Being short taught me resilience and perspective. Like Charles, everyone has something about themselves that feels awkward or weird. While our human instinct might tell us to view these quirks as negative, we must learn how to be empathetic and accepting of these things. If I could speak to my younger self, I would tell him that being different is not a problem that needs to be fixed, but a part of being human. While my “awkward thing” was challenging during my childhood, I would not change my past if I could today. What used to feel like a weakness taught me communication skills and empathy, qualities I would never trade to be six feet tall today.

At the beginning of high school, I believed that getting into an elite college would be impossible. I thought that only geniuses who do not sleep at all get into Harvard, and even some of them get rejected. This mentality led to me not working quite as hard or as intelligently as I could have. I now realize that I could have achieved more had I worked harder and planned more diligently. Now, I am absolutely determined to make the most of my time as an undergraduate at University of California, Santa Barbara. After graduating, I plan to attend graduate school, and to ultimately contribute to breakthroughs in the field of biology. During my time at UCSB, I plan on achieving straight As during each year of college. This will be difficult, but achievable using habits I built in high school. For instance, I have overcome procrastination and began to set goals before studying. Rather than studying each topic equally, I have learned to focus on weaknesses and to quiz myself frequently leading up to exams. These habits allowed me to achieve a 4.2807 total weighted GPA, and to achieve straight As during my last two years. I also plan on gaining lab experience early in college. My father, a professor at University of California, Irvine, advises me to look into joining a lab as early as possible. During sophomore and junior years, I plan on working on independent research, and during my senior year, I hope to work towards a publication while applying to graduate school. UCSB has several opportunities for research involving gene-editing technology, organ regeneration, and human consciousness, all of which are of particular interest to me. By the end of my time at UCSB, I hope to have a minimum of one publication, ideally as a lead author. By doing this, I will not only put myself ahead of other graduate school applicants, but I will be starting my career as a scientist. During graduate school, I hope to continue to excel academically and ultimately to have a very strong dissertation. Afterwards, I will likely work in a postdoctoral position for two to three years. Ultimately, I plan to become a professor in a field related to molecular and cellular biology. I hope to make breakthroughs in the field in order to make a positive impact on humanity: not just how to cure one illness, but how to cure entire disease groups. I genuinely believe that if I make a discovery that could allow us to regenerate any tissues or cure Alzheimer’s Disease or cancer, I will be truly happy and fulfilled. Attending college and grad school is not cheap however, and in order to finance these pursuits, I have to plan intelligently. The average cost of attendance at UCSB is $44,000 for California residents. Many expenses will be paid by my family. I intend to work part-time jobs, both during the school year and during the summer, which will allow me to earn approximately $6,000 to $12,000 per year. Some of this money will be saved and some invested. UCSB has offered me a $3,000 scholarship as well. I also will apply to independent scholarships, which will hopefully provide at least $5,000. I will employ similar strategies in graduate school, although it likely will be cheaper. If my plans do not work out as expected, I will seek employment opportunities to stay on track. By combining academic discipline, research experience, and careful financial planning, I am confident that I can achieve my goals and make a meaningful contribution to biology.

To me, calculus is not just a branch of mathematics, but a way of thinking. When I took Calculus AB during my junior year of high school, it was far more enjoyable to me than any math class I had taken previously. In part, this was because I had an excellent teacher, but it was more due to the fact that I could see the real-world applications of calculus. Whether it was using related rates to determine how quickly a liquid’s depth was changing when a conical tank was being filled, or using optimization to find the maximum volume of a box with a given amount of material, every day I felt as though the problems I was completing could have practical uses. Calculus is not just a class that high school and college students are required to take, but a tool to model countless aspects of our world. Practically every branch of STEM relies on calculus in some way. For instance, astrophysicists use calculus to model the movement of celestial bodies, allowing us to time space travel efficiently, model complex planetary orbits, and even create a deeper understanding of the laws of physics. Engineers use calculus to design structures, analyze forces, and optimize many different systems. Personally, the uses of calculus in the field of biology are especially interesting to me. At first glance, the study of biology can seem quite random. However, biologists use calculus to model the rate of change of populations in animals, plants, and bacteria. Calculus can also be used to predict and prevent the spread of diseases. Calculus can even be used to model the growth rate of tumors, helping oncologists understand and potentially treat cancer. In my experience, calculus required not just memorization of formulas or ways to complete a problem, as is the case in many math classes, but critical thinking and analysis skills. Perhaps this does not apply to some calculus teachers, but many of the scenarios in homework problems and tests in my calculus class were different from those we had worked on during lectures. Challenging students to not only learn the information of calculus but to apply it to new scenarios is one of its most important uses. Students are the future of STEM, and in order to tackle new problems, they must have practice doing so. Calculus serves as a tool to give students problems which they have the knowledge to solve, but must overcome the challenge of not having seen the exact style of problem before. By teaching these critical and creative thinking skills, calculus helps create new generations of thoughtful and logical workers in STEM. For these reasons, I believe calculus is one of the most important subjects in STEM education. It provides the tools necessary to model and solve real-world problems while also developing the analytical mindset that scientists, engineers, and mathematicians rely on every day. Calculus is more than a collection of formulas; it is a language for understanding how our world works and a tool for modeling our immeasurably complex world.

"Virtue, then, is a state of deliberate moral purpose, consisting in a mean that is relative to ourselves, this mean being determined by reason or as a prudent man would determine it. It is a mean first as being between two vices, the one that of excess, the other that of defect; and secondly because whereas these vices either fall short of or exceed what is right in feelings and actions, virtue finds and adopts the mean. Hence, if we regard virtue in its essence and ideal definition, it is a mean; though if we regard it from the point of view of what is best and most excellent, it is an extreme." Aristotle Nicomachean Ethics, Book II, Chapter 6 With this excerpt from Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle explores the nature of morality, arguing that morality requires moderation rather than extremes. Maintaining this state of restraint requires deliberate, individual effort. Morality cannot be achieved on the individual level through brashness or emotion alone; rather, it requires reason and logic. Through a structural contrast of "the mean" and "the extreme," Aristotle suggests that personal fulfillment and ethical stability are achieved only when reason is utilized to master the volatile impulses of human emotion. Aristotle argues that tending to adopt either of two possible extremes usually leads to moral decay. With any given trait, such as courage, integrity, or honesty, one can exhibit either too little or too much of these traits. He states, “It is a mean first as being between two vices, the one that of excess, the other that of defect”. This “excess” as he argues, involves too much of a given behavior. For instance, given the trait of honesty, exhibiting excess honesty would involve being honest to a point of being rude. Thus, excessive truthfulness is not virtuous, but a tool of cruelty. Excess, in this light, corrupts the inherent value of virtue itself. Aristotle also argues that one can display too little of a given trait. This he refers to as “defect”. Extending the example of honesty, if one is usually or always dishonest, this of course will lead to moral decay and the worsening of society as well. Dishonesty serves as the basis for distrust, which ultimately leads to conflict. A society built upon citizens that are deceitful cannot remain stable for this reason. If everyone or most people were to normalize the behavior of lying, it would ultimately cause not only rampant confusion and distrust, but ultimately, societal breakdown. This seems obvious, and yet, humans have lied throughout history to one another with the intention of furthering their own self-interest. This lying itself could also be viewed as valuing self-interest excessively. When one values themselves too much, they become more extreme in behaviors which benefit themselves. However, if one exhibits the “defect” of self-interest, they may become too willing to give and to sacrifice. By exploring these two hazards, Aristotle shows that vices are not necessarily opposite forces to virtue, but are instead the mathematical outliers of virtue. They are the result of a behavior being pushed too far in either direction. Since adopting either extreme of a given behavior is unhealthy, Aristotle argues that the correct way to act involves pursuing a compromise in oneself between exhibiting too much and too little of a given behavior. Since moral extremes are dangerous, the natural conclusion is that we must exhibit moderation in our behaviors. However, this establishes the question of how to determine what constitutes moral moderation. Aristotle answers this question by arguing that the moral path is "relative to ourselves," which introduces a vital element of human reason into his philosophy. By asserting that the ideal middle ground changes depending on the individual and the context, Aristotle acknowledges the complexity and changing nature of human society. What constitutes courage for one person might manifest as reckless impulsivity for another; what qualifies as modesty in a position of power might be perceived as cowardice in a state of subjugation. Thus, people have an obligation to remain vigilant and to use reason in deciding what is the right thing to do in a given situation. Instead of presenting morality as a simple list of forbidden and required actions, Aristotle implies that the real danger to human society lies in the inability to be fluid and to adapt to changing societies. Conforming to old rules solely because they were once perceived as true does not allow for these rules to adapt to inevitable societal change. True moral wisdom requires a constant, active evaluation of one's specific circumstances (or “deliberate moral purpose”), meaning that morality cannot be based upon tradition or thoughtless habit. It must be continually calculated by the individual mind. Aristotle concludes this excerpt by highlighting the paradoxical conclusion of his philosophy: while morality is a mean, when viewed from the perspective of individual excellence, it is an extreme. The philosopher argues that when viewed from “the point of view of what is best and most excellent”, moral moderation is an extreme. This is because maintaining moderation in one's behavior, whether with regard to morals or otherwise, is extremely difficult. As noted earlier, being moderate in behavior involves “deliberate moral purpose”. As the text argues, the moderation which should be strived for does not come naturally, but out of intentional, individual effort. Most people will be extreme in one or more of their traits and may exhibit extreme behavior in a given situation. Most people have predispositions to adopt at least some extreme behaviors, or, when put into emotionally charged scenarios, they will not be able to act in a balanced manner. Moral temperance requires a level of self-control and intellectual clarity that few consistently manage to maintain. Since the majority of people will inevitably not be exceptional at finding this middle ground which Aristotle argues is best, it is very rare among people, and thus an extreme. By contrasting "the mean" and "the extreme," Aristotle argues that personal morality and societal stability are achieved only when reason is utilized to master the extreme impulses of human emotion. He argues that adopting too little or too much of a behavior leads to instability, and that humanity ought to strive for moral moderation when making decisions. Aristotle’s reminder of the need for moderation serves as a reminder against accepting extremes as normal. Especially in modern society, which is far more polarized in political and ideological belief than ever before, Aristotle’s message is even more significant. Today, social discourse is often dominated by black-and-white thinking, which causes the very vices that Aristotle cautioned us about. We must remember that extreme actions lead to extreme outcomes, such as distrust and hatred among people, as well as social chaos. The reader ought to remember Aristotle's message in order to form a safer and more perfect world.

Do you know the difference between diverticulitis and gastritis? I do. So does my father. After a family meal in 2019, he began experiencing severe abdominal pain and was eventually diagnosed with both conditions. Doctors prescribed antibiotics and a few dietary restrictions, assuring him that his issues would improve. As a twelve-year-old, I was concerned, but believed they would. Today, my father is still searching for a solution to his symptoms. A few years ago, I developed an interest in fitness and nutrition. My love of fitness began as a desire to look better, but quickly became a fascination with the science of anatomy and nutrition. I spent hours reading books, scientific studies, and watching educational videos about nutrition, physiology, and metabolism. As I applied knowledge into my own life, I began to see how food influences health and the way one feels. Changes in calories affected my weight, consuming high amounts of sodium at once would cause water retention, and focusing on including a wide variety of healthy foods in my diet improved how I felt. And yet, I did not have answers for my father. He continued visiting various GI doctors, and undergoing various tests. On more than one occasion, a doctor would recommend a treatment that another doctor would directly contradict. Sometimes I tried to help, confidently suggesting dietary changes based on my perceived knowledge. However, his pain persisted. I remember one morning when he drove me to school after spending the entire night awake because the discomfort was too severe for him to sleep. I could not focus during first period that day. These experiences transformed my curiosity into a purpose. I began connecting what I learned in biology and chemistry classes to real-world issues. Food became more than calories and protein. It became genetics, microbiology, biochemistry, and the complex interactions that shape human health. I wanted to understand why diseases occur and why treatments work for some people and not others. Ultimately, becoming a researcher became my life goal. To pursue that goal, I joined my school’s Biology Club, enrolled in AP Biology, and began assisting my mother, a researcher, in her laboratory at UC Irvine. There, I help with tasks such as counting nuclei and supporting ongoing experiments. This experience has shown me how biology is studied in real-world labs, rather than just learning about it in a classroom. It has also strengthened my desire to pursue biology in college and eventually contribute to medical and biological research. I plan to make a positive impact on the world by helping advance our understanding of human health. Through research, I can contribute to discoveries that improve quality of life for people facing chronic illnesses and medical conditions. My father’s experience taught me that many diagnoses are not as simple as they may seem. By dedicating myself to the study of biology, I hope to make living with medical problems a little easier. Ultimately, I will turn my personal curiosity into real knowledge, and one day, real change.

Do you know the difference between diverticulitis and gastritis? I sure do. And so does my father. After a family meal at a pizza joint in November of 2019, my dad began feeling pains in his abdomen. After being diagnosed with gastritis and diverticulitis, he was told to avoid sharp seeds and nuts, and prescribed antibiotics. As a twelve year old, I was concerned, but I assumed it would pass. Around three years ago, I began to lift weights and to be interested in nutrition. I started to spend much of my free time reading books, studies, watching Youtube videos, and diving into topics like sugars, protein, the mechanism by which soluble fiber monitors blood glucose levels, and everything in between. I started wanting to know more and more about how our bodies work. Using the knowledge I had learned, I began to cook more often, focusing on including a wide variety of foods, and was astonished to find that what I ate truly made a difference in how I lived. Eating more or less calories changed my weight, eating more carbohydrates spiked my weight temporarily due to water retention, including more micronutrients in my diet made me feel better. Until my early teenage years, food had not been something I thought about, but now it had become an obsession of mine. And yet, despite all I was learning, I did not have answers for my father. He went to one GI doctor after another, getting test after test, but never getting solid answers as to what was wrong. On more than one occasion, a doctor would give him advice that was directly contradictory to the advice given by a different doctor. There were times when I naively offered my opinion, thinking it may do some good. I would tell him to just stop eating a certain food, which I had deemed as “bad”. His pains persisted, getting better, then worse, then better, but never going away entirely. Over time, this uncertainty took a toll on my mental health. I will not pretend that my father’s difficulties were absolutely dire, but they were certainly significant enough to be a cause for concern. I wondered if my dad’s issues would get worse or if they were indicative of a serious medical problem. At times, my dad would become rather quiet, and while he maintained a sense of calmness, I knew he was in pain. I remember one morning last year when he drove me to school after having not slept at all the previous night because the pain was too great. I had trouble focusing in first period that day. Over time, as my understanding of food and the human body became more detailed, I started connecting the information I had learned in classes like freshman-year biology and sophomore-year chemistry, with the real world. I began to realize that my Youtube-fueled knowledge was limited. Nutrition became more than calories and macronutrients. It became genetics, gut bacteria, and enzymes. I wanted to know more, to dig deeper. I wanted to understand the science behind the contradictions and perplexities of modern medicine. For these reasons, I joined my school’s biology club this year, and enrolled in AP bio, which I am excelling in. I also started to help my mom, a research scientist, in her lab at UC Irvine, where I help count nuclei in cells, or assist wherever I can. This experience has given me an understanding of how biology is studied in the real world, rather than simply learning about biology in a classroom. I have learned real biological techniques with real applications. Outside of school, I still spend much of my time reading biology textbooks and watching videos about biology and nutrition, not out of obligation, but because I have an endless desire to understand how the human body works. For me, there has not been a “spark moment” when I suddenly understood that I had to become a scientific researcher. Just a slow and steady realization that I cannot live with myself without helping others be happier and healthier. Unfortunately, college is expensive. While my family is not poor, we are also not rich. By awarding me this scholarship, the Christian Fitness Association would not only be funding a good student, but a caring individual with a passion for learning. At this point in my life, I find myself absolutely sure that I want to use science to create solutions for those who are suffering. This is not only a personally fulfilling cause, but a cause that would benefit humanity. That is why I want to major in biology in college: to turn my personal curiosity into real knowledge, and one day, real change.

Having grown up in a world in which socializing has become inexorably tied to social media, it is difficult to answer how we may be able to strengthen true, authentic human connection. My father likes to refer to social media as “anti-social media” because of its ability to isolate us and make us feel inferior to our peers. Personally, I do not have social media, but I do have a phone and internet access, which makes it easy to neglect my social life. I know others who spend hours upon hours on social media each day. I see the effects of this in the way the kids at my school often act. My peers at school seem incapable of having a serious conversation. Many times, I have tried to start a conversation with someone I do not know, only to be met with looks of confusion. Despite all of this, I believe that there is still hope for our generation. Through the use of activities that promote in-person social interaction in schools, as well as placing some restrictions on social media usage, we can reduce the isolating effects of technology while strengthening real human connection. We must first look at how significant the erosion of face-to-face interaction is. When every joke and casual thought is filtered through a screen, the beautiful nuances of real, human language are lost. In-person conversations require us to read body language, interpret tone, and learn how to deal with uncomfortable silences (this is something that I personally struggle with). Digital communication removes this challenge. Social media gives users instant gratification through likes, views, and comments, making us addicted to validation. Young people naturally become almost afraid of real conversation. When forced into a spontaneous interaction with a stranger or peer, many young people panic because there is no "edit" or "delete" button. The confusion I encounter when trying to start a simple conversation is not necessarily a sign of hostility. Rather, it is a sign of a generation which simply does not know how to communicate. The first step toward reclaiming this lost art must begin where we spend the majority of our formative years: at school. Schools have a unique ability to foster environments where screens take a backseat to human eyes. Schools should actively implement time during school that forces students out of their digital comfort zones. This does not mean assigning more group projects, which often result in students texting each other from across the room or engaging in the absolute minimum with regard to conversation. Instead, schools should integrate free time, debate clubs, and collaborative problem-solving exercises into the daily, or perhaps weekly, curriculum. When forced to not use their devices, students will inevitably begin to regain and learn social skills. However, changes in schools can only do so much if we do not change our behavior at home. This is where implementing thoughtful restrictions on technology becomes necessary. These boundaries do not need to be strict bans, but intentional guidelines meant to protect our mental health. For individuals, this could mean using app restrictions or turning off non-essential notifications. For families, creating rules like "no phones at the dinner table" ensures that the home remains a sanctuary for conversation. By reducing the constant stimulation of phones, we give ourselves the chance to be bored, and thus, we may reach out to others. It is unrealistic to expect society to abandon phones and computers; when technology is created, it never leaves. Therefore, the goal should not be to eliminate all devices, but to reduce how much emphasis we place on their usage. We must view technology as a tool to facilitate real-world meetings, rather than a replacement for them. Group chats should be used to plan dinner parties, hikes, and other get-togethers. Ultimately, the future of socialization depends on the realization of the goodness of connection. Looking at a classroom of teenagers with their necks bent, staring silently at their phones, is discouraging. But the enjoyment one feels in face-to-face interaction is irreplaceable. The confusion my peers show when I speak to them shows that they lack skill, not empathy or humanity. By fostering interactive spaces in our schools and setting boundaries with our devices, we can begin to heal our collective social awkwardness. Authentic human connection is not a relic of the past, but a necessity we have a duty to preserve.

As a twelve-year-old, my father was diagnosed with gastritis and diverticulitis after having severe abdominal pain following a family dinner at a pizza joint. At the time, I assumed it would be temporary. The gastrointestinal doctors prescribed antibiotics, gave him dietary restrictions, and sent him home. But the pain never disappeared. For several years, he visited multiple GI specialists, underwent countless tests, and often received contradictory advice from different doctors. Some days he seemed better, but others the discomfort returned so strongly that he could barely sleep. I still remember a morning when he drove me to school after being awake the whole night because of the pain. Sitting in first period that day, I could not focus. Around the same time, I began to lift weights and I became fascinated by nutrition and medicine. What started as a hobby quickly turned into something deeper. I spent hours reading studies, watching lectures and videos, and learning about subjects like metabolism, blood glucose regulation, the gut microbiome, and micronutrients. I became obsessed with understanding how the human body functions and how food influences so many other aspects of our lives. I started cooking more often for myself and for my family, experimenting with healthy meals and paying attention to how different foods affected energy, recovery, and overall well-being. For the first time in my life, I realized that science was not just something confined to textbooks and classrooms. Rather, it directly shaped how I lived and felt every day. At first, it seemed like if I simply learned enough, I could help my father. I would suggest avoiding certain foods or trying various diets, believing there had to be a simple solution. Over time, however, I began to understand how complex biology and physiology truly are. Human health is influenced by genetics, the environment, microbiomes, chemistry, and countless interconnected systems. I realized that the more I learned, the more questions I had. While discouraging at first, that realization ultimately motivated me even more. This year, I have spent much more time actively pursuing opportunities to deepen my understanding of science. I joined my school’s biology club and enrolled in AP Biology, where I discovered how much I enjoyed applying concepts from chemistry and biology to real-world problems. Outside of school, I began helping my mother, who works as a researcher at UC Irvine, in her laboratory. Assisting with basic tasks like counting nuclei in cells was fairly simple, but it gave me a firsthand look at how scientific research is actually conducted: carefully, patiently, and collaboratively. At times, it felt like what my mother was studying was extremely far-removed from real-world applications. But I learned that oftentimes, results in science are not major breakthroughs, but minor discoveries that add up to something more valuable. Perhaps my greatest strength is my curiosity. When I become interested in something, I pursue it relentlessly, not because I have to, but because I genuinely want to. At the same time, one of my weaknesses is that I may become frustrated when answers are unclear or progress is slow. Watching my father struggle with chronic illness taught me that many important problems do not have simple, immediate solutions. Learning to deal with uncertainty while continuing to work toward improvement has been one of the most priceless lessons of my life. In the future, I hope to major in biological sciences and to pursue a career in scientific research. I want to contribute to a stronger collective understanding of human health and help develop solutions that improve people’s lives. More than anything, I want to be part of work that gives people clearer answers, better treatments, and hope during challenging times. This scholarship would help me pursue these goals by easing the financial burden of higher education and allowing me to focus on opportunities that will prepare me for a career path in science. I wish to use my education not only to build a successful future for myself, but also to contribute meaningfully to my community and to the world through research, compassion, and a lifelong commitment to learning.

I remember my first baseball game, a fall ball frosh game in September of my freshman year of high school. Actually, I do not remember it too well because I was so nervous, my stomach physically hurt. I remember thinking I would not be put in, as I was completely new to the game and mostly joined the team because my brother had played high school baseball and because I wished to play a sport during my high school experience. I did get put in for an at-bat, in which I swung and missed at three consecutive pitches. After the game, despite my failure, I felt wonderful, because I had survived. During my freshman and sophomore years, my anxiety never disappeared. Before games, I would overthink every possible mistake I might make. At the very beginning of joining the team, I was even nervous about practices. Baseball forced me to confront those fears repeatedly. I could not avoid stepping into the batter’s box forever. Even if I bench-warmed much of the time, I would get put in at some point. Every practice and every game became a lesson in perseverance. Slowly, the fear that once seemed overwhelming began to shrink. By my junior year, I became more confident not only as a player, but also as a person. Looking back now as a senior finishing my high school baseball experience, I realize how silly my anxiety could be. At the time, however, those feelings were real, and overcoming them changed me. Baseball became a sort of exposure therapy that taught me an important lesson: personal growth only happens through discomfort. Before ninth grade, my instinct when facing unfamiliar experiences was often to avoid them entirely. Baseball changed that mindset. The game taught me that I cannot run from difficult at-bats. Whether I strike out looking or hit a double, I still have to step into the box and give my full effort. I also learned that failure is not something to fear. Improvement comes from repetition and the willingness to keep trying after defeats. Over time, the hard work I put into practice paid off, and I became a much better baseball player than I ever expected to be as a nervous freshman. More importantly, baseball helped me develop resilience, confidence, and humility that extend beyond the field into professional and personal life. As a future scientist and possibly a professor, I hope to carry these lessons into my career and community. Science requires curiosity, persistence, and the ability to grow from failure, much like baseball does. I also hope to mentor others by encouraging people to take risks, working hard, and not letting fear stop them from pursuing opportunities. Baseball taught me that success is not about avoiding failure, but about continuing to step up to the plate no matter the outcome afterwards.

I don't go to the movies to become depressed. I go to feel like I am transcending my human life and moving above the noise, destruction, and demoralized headlines that plague the news. I am not arguing that movies ought to be nothing but happiness, as this is just as boring as many movies are depressing. Rather, I wish to be uplifted by film by watching the characters struggle and ultimately overcome challenges. For this reason, "The Shawshank Redemption" is my favorite movie of all time. What makes this film so powerful is not simply its plot, but its insistence on hope in the most hopeless of places. The story follows Andy Dufresne, a man wrongfully imprisoned, who refuses to let the cruelty of his circumstances destroy him. Instead of succumbing to bitterness, Andy chooses patience, resilience, and above all, hope. In a world designed to strip him of identity, he builds one anyway—through small acts of defiance, kindness, and long-term vision. Watching Andy’s journey altered how I think about adversity in my own life. Before seeing the film, I often viewed challenges as interruptions—unwanted obstacles that delayed the life I wanted to live. However, "The Shawshank Redemption" reframed hardship for me as something more meaningful. Andy does not wait for his situation to improve before he begins living with intention; he creates meaning within it. Whether he is helping fellow inmates earn their education or carving his escape one centimeter at a time (literally and figuratively), he demonstrates that progress is often slow and deeply personal. One of the most meaningful lessons I took from the movie is the idea that hope is a discipline, rather than just a feeling. Andy famously says that hope is “a good thing, maybe the best of things,” but the film explores further by showing how difficult it is to maintain. His friend Red initially rejects hope because it feels dangerous, something that can be taken away. I related to this perspective more than I would have thought I would. It is often easier to lower expectations than to risk disappointment. Yet Andy’s unwavering belief in a better future ultimately transforms not only his own life, but Red’s as well. Hope, while it may feel dangerous, can spread to others and benefit everyone involved. Additionally, the film’s emphasis on perseverance resonated deeply with me as a student and avid gym-goer. Success rarely comes from one defining moment; instead, it is the result of consistent effort over time. Andy’s escape is not sudden or miraculous—it is the product of years of quiet determination. This mirrors the reality of academic and athletic growth. Whether studying for exams, building muscle, or pursuing long-term goals in general, meaningful progress often goes unnoticed until it transforms into something significant. The film reminded me to trust the process, as cliche as it sounds, even when results are not immediately visible. Ultimately, The "Shawshank Redemption" impacted me because it aligns with the kind of life I wish to live. I want to approach challenges with resilience rather than resentment, to hold onto hope even if it feels risky, and to find meaning regardless of circumstance. "The Shawshank Redemption" does not promise an easy life, but it offers something more valuable: the belief that even in confinement, we still have the power to shape who we become and how we choose to act. That is why I return to this film. Not to flee from reality, but to be reminded of how to face it.

"Kindness in Action" Response As a child and preteen, I attended a summer camp in the San Bernardino Mountains for a few years. One of the major events of the camp was a long hike which led to a campground, at which we would spend the night and return the following day. The hike was the most significant event of the trip and always served as a fun way to explore nature, socialize, and engage in camping activities. One year, I had a friend who got injured (I believe he twisted his ankle) and could not go. I could see his disappointment and frustration, but I initially decided that there was nothing I could do about it. After a day or two, however, the thought crept into my mind that there was something I could do: stay with my friend at the camp while the other campers went on the hike. At first, the selfish side of me suppressed this thought, as I did not want to ruin my own fun. Ultimately, I decided that there are more important things than personal pleasure, and I decided to stay with my friend to comfort and spend time with him. I was fully prepared to stay, but at the last minute, his parents decided to take him home. I was still able to go on the hike. My friend later told me his father was impressed and proud of my actions. Upon reflection, I realized that I had done the right thing in offering to stay with him, and that perhaps, my ultimately being able to go on the trip was in part caused by my willingness to stay. "Creating Connections" Response Making connections starts with small, intentional actions. In my experience, belonging isn’t something that just happens. Rather, it is something people build for one another. I have tried to contribute to that by noticing who feels left out and taking steps to include them. One example of this was during my sophomore year of high school, during lunchtime. While I was eating lunch with my friend group, I decided to talk to a boy who usually ate lunch by himself nearby. I realized that I ought to make an effort to talk to him. Instead of staying within my usual circle, I made an effort to start conversations with this quieter individual. Over time, he became a part of my current friend group, and I still speak with him regularly today. I’ve also learned that creating belonging means listening. Everyone has different experiences, and making a space for those perspectives helps people feel valued. Whether it's encouraging someone to share their ideas or acknowledging their presence, those moments build trust and human connection. I have realized that inclusion does not usually require a grand gesture. It is built through empathy and awareness of those who seem left out. By choosing kindness and paying attention to others, I have helped create environments where people feel seen and accepted. Ultimately, bringing people together is about making sure no one feels invisible—and that’s something I will continue to prioritize in every community that I am part of, in college and beyond.

At the beginning of eight grade, I was in PE class when our teacher informed the class that we would be doing the FitnessGram PACER Test, much to my chagrin. As the world was emerging from the COVID-19 Pandemic and in-person, Monday through Friday school began again, I was very excited. However, I had largely neglected my health and fitness throughout the pandemic. Fitness had never been something that I was extremely passionate about, but I had played basketball and swam regularly throughout my childhood. I got around thirty laps on the PACER test that day, and realized that I needed to change something. At first, that realization was difficult to accept. I compared myself to others in my class who seemed to run easily, and I felt frustrated with how much my endurance had declined. But instead of letting that frustration break me, I decided to use it as motivation. I began with small, manageable steps—going on short runs, being more mindful of my activity levels, and pushing myself just a little further each day. What started as a response to a disappointing moment gradually became something more meaningful. I also began to do push-ups, pull-ups, and other calisthenics in my bedroom, a habit which would ultimately lead to my current love of weightlifting. Over time, fitness transformed from a requirement into a passion. I began to appreciate the structure and discipline that came with maintaining a routine. Working out, running, and swimming became ways for me to clear my mind and focus on personal growth rather than comparison. Each improvement felt like a victory, whether it was running an extra lap without stopping, getting another rep on a set of pull-ups, or eating a healthy, nourishing dish. I started to see progress not just physically, but mentally as well. One of the most significant changes fitness brought into my life was discipline. There were many days when I didn’t feel motivated, when progress felt slow, or when I doubted whether my efforts were making a difference. However, staying consistent through those moments taught me perseverance. I learned that improvement does not happen overnight and that setbacks are inevitable. This mindset extended beyond fitness and into other areas of my life, including academics. Additionally, prioritizing fitness helped me improve my overall well-being. I felt more energized throughout the day, more focused in school, and more confident in myself. What once felt like a weakness became a source of strength. Looking back, that PACER test was not just a fitness assessment—it was a turning point that made me take control of my fitness and develop habits that will benefit me for years to come. Today, fitness is no longer something I avoid, but something I embrace. I go to the gym, and have a strict routine, I do yoga, I run, I swim. In general, I love to move my body. Fitness has taught me discipline, patience, and the importance of self-improvement. Most importantly, it has shown me that challenges—whether physical or personal—can be overcome with determination and a willingness to grow. What was of disappointment at the time has become a lasting passion that continues to shape who I am today.

My parents do not wish to go one hundred thousand dollars into debt in order for me to go to college. While they want me to get a great education and have a great college experience, the ever-rising costs of attending many institutions, even some in-state ones, feels daunting to my family. It feels especially daunting knowing that I hope to attend grad school or medical school in the future. I hope to ultimately use my education to help others be happier and healthier, whether directly or indirectly. I have taken ownership of paying for my education in the last several months, as I have become determined to both attend a prestigious university such as a UC or Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, and to allow my parents to retire before age ninety. I have spent significant time researching scholarship opportunities, understanding tuition costs, and constructing a plan for how I can realistically pursue my academic goals. Instead of waiting for guidance, I have learned to seek out information, ask questions, and advocate for myself. This process has strengthened my sense of responsibility, as each choice I make carries tangible consequences for my future. Navigating this path has fostered in me a strong sense of independence. Without the expectation of significant external financial support, I have had to rely on my own judgment and discipline. This independence extends beyond just finances; it influences how I manage my time, set priorities, and approach challenges. I have learned to balance immediate responsibilities with long-term planning, understanding that success requires consistency and resilience. More importantly, my circumstances have given me a deeper sense of purpose. Knowing that I am working toward my education without complete financial certainty has made me more intentional about my goals. I am not pursuing higher education passively—I am actively investing in it and committing myself to making it meaningful. This perspective motivates me to take advantage of every opportunity I can. Looking ahead, my experiences have shaped my future aspirations in several meaningful ways. I aim not only to achieve personal success, but also to create stability and opportunities for those who were not given these things. I hope to build a career in science or medicine that allows me to be self-sufficient and to support others facing medical and health challenges. While the absence of significant financial support has presented challenges, it has also been a powerful source of growth. It has strengthened my independence and clarified my goals. I know that these qualities will continue to guide me throughout my academic journey and beyond, serving as a foundation for both my personal and professional future.