The bird was dead. I had watched her thrashing around, slamming herself against the lucid yellow sides of the shoebox, struggling, clinging to whatever little life she had left. And I was helpless to do anything but watch. Watch her life ebb away. She was dead. I had been prone to collecting injured animals. I would take them home in my yellow shoebox. This was the first time one had died. And it hurt. I got home in tears that day - the body of the dove laying lifeless within my shoebox. It was a distinct feeling of helplessness and hopelessness. Because what is the point of even trying if I was doomed to fail? But my mom told me a story that day. ~ ‘A young girl is walking along the seaside after a brutal storm. Every so often, she stoops down and plucks a washed-up starfish from the sand, then tosses it back into the ocean. The people around her guffaw in laughter, jeering as they tell her that she could not possibly make a difference. There were thousands of starfish on the beach. The young girl merely plucks another starfish from the ground and tosses it back into the sea. Then she turns and says: “I made a difference to that one”. ‘ ~ That story taught me that change is about the impact we make on a single life. It taught me that profound changes are not necessarily the largest. That is the kind of change I wish to make. This led me into an impassioned pursuit of a career in the STEM fields. While I wasn’t able to save my dove, there are still thousands of other starfish out there, just waiting for someone to give them the helping hand they need to thrive.

They were digging a hole in my neighborhood. A deep, abyssal pit. It was ravenous and entrenched in writhing shadow as if cursed by some malevolent sentience. A graveyard. Somewhere to dispose of the bodies of those who had fallen in. I always tried to avoid it, and yet, I felt drawn to it. I ascended the steps, like a moth to a wicked flame. It sang to me, a euphonious melody that rolled over the cresting swells in sorrowful waves. It was irresistibly sweet, yet laced with melancholy and grief. A beckoning tune, inviting me to venture on closer, calling me into the swirling inky shadows below. And as I stood by the maw of this foul blight, I found my gaze drawn into its depths. And there, I witnessed the fractured bodies of the ones who had fallen victim to the pit before me. Broken limbs, twisted with bloat. Fear now eternally etched onto their stricken faces, forever frozen in the painful moments before death. People I knew. People who passed before me. My father’s parents. Some friends. A few animals I had once owned. And yet, I wasn’t afraid. Instead, I noticed something curious. Each and every one of the victims within the pit was dressed in the same peculiar outfit. And one I remember vividly to this day. A white frock, pure as snow, and light as wind. A type of cotton material, thin and wispy, veiling the majority of the mutilation done to their bodies. Carefully embroidered by the sleeves and hems, as if by hand, extravagant floral designs of deep cerulean. The mark of death. A facade of beauty to hide the grotesqueness underneath. The sound of a familiar voice caught my attention, snapping me from my trance-like state. As I whirled around on my heels, I faced a sight that deeply terrified me. My best friend’s mother, an adopted mother to me in her own right. We used to paint together. With oils and canvas. She ignited my love for art. For creation. But she wasn’t the beloved woman covered in paints that I knew, she was quiet and serene. She was wearing a white frock. The death dress. She had been marked. She called to me as she approached, and then I fell. ~ I woke up that night in a cold sweat. This dream was a recurring nightmare of mine. It started months ago and had been rather intermittent, but grew in quantity and intensity with each passing night. I rubbed my blurry eyes and ambled out of bed. I did not think much of it at the moment. In hindsight, its significance was immense. It was during the pique of these night terrors that the woman in white took her own life. As if somehow, my subconscious recognized the signs of Her battle with depression and tried to warn me. But I was too ignorant to take notice. The pit had consumed another victim. And I could have stopped it. But I didn’t. And now She is gone. I remember standing in the driveway with my best friend, shock seizing my limbs. She was sobbing. Her brother was screaming. A guttural sound. I will never forget it. The sound of a broken heart. His father had to restrain him, holding him down as he thrashed and yelled. He wanted to go in to see Her body. Her body hanging in the window. It took me a while to break the perpetual loop of self-loathing. To stop blaming myself for knowing in advance and doing nothing to prevent it. As if something could have been done. But I pushed through. I had a memory. Me and Her, sitting crisscrossed on the floor. Newspapers scattered around us. Laughing. She was teaching us how to paint. She asked us about our dreams. She told us to paint our dream. I was too young to understand so I painted a wonderland park. An ancient elm tree, under which a young couple danced, jubilant in their youth. I painted a world of magic and happiness. And She helped me. Her words echoed in the back of my mind. “Paint what you love and then do it”. It was that advice that prompted me to begin a search for what I am passionate about. I joined martial arts and practiced for 5 years. I joined the theatre. The photography club. I joined a circus and practiced aerial dance and contortion. And then I found medicine and I knew immediately that I found my passion. I want to become a nurse. I want to travel the world, lending a helping hand to those who need it most. To help others in the way that I could not help Her. https://i.imgur.com/nILyUnP.jpeg (The painting, circa 2010. Copy and paste.)

They were digging a hole in my neighborhood. A deep, abyssal pit. It was ravenous and entrenched in writhing shadow as if cursed by some malevolent sentience. A graveyard. Somewhere to dispose of the bodies of those who had fallen in. I always tried to avoid it, and yet, I felt drawn to it. I ascended the steps, like a moth to a wicked flame. It sang to me, a euphonious melody that rolled over the cresting swells in sorrowful waves. It was irresistibly sweet, yet laced with melancholy and grief. A beckoning tune, inviting me to venture on closer, calling me into the swirling inky shadows below. And as I stood by the maw of this foul blight, I found my gaze drawn into its depths. And there, I witnessed the fractured bodies of the ones who had fallen victim to the pit before me. Broken limbs, twisted with bloat. Fear now eternally etched onto their stricken faces, forever frozen in the painful moments before death. People I knew. People who passed before me. My father’s parents. Some friends. A few animals I had once owned. And yet, I wasn’t afraid. Instead, I noticed something curious. Each and every one of the victims within the pit was dressed in the same peculiar outfit. And one I remember vividly to this day. A white frock, pure as snow, and light as wind. A type of cotton material, thin and wispy, veiling the majority of the mutilation done to their bodies. Carefully embroidered by the sleeves and hems, as if by hand, extravagant floral designs of deep cerulean. The mark of death. A facade of beauty to hide the grotesqueness underneath. The sound of a familiar voice caught my attention, snapping me from my trance-like state. As I whirled around on my heels, I faced a sight that deeply terrified me. My best friend’s mother, an adopted mother to me in her own right. We used to paint together. With oils and canvas. She ignited my love for art. For creation. But she wasn’t the beloved woman covered in paints that I knew, she was quiet and serene. She was wearing the white frock. The death dress. She had been marked. She called to me as she approached, and then I fell. ~ I woke up that night in a cold sweat. This dream was a recurring nightmare of mine. It started months ago and had been rather intermittent, but grew in quantity and intensity with each passing night. I rubbed my blurry eyes and ambled out of bed. I did not think much of it at the moment. In hindsight, its significance was immense. It was during the pique of these night terrors that the woman in white took her own life. As if somehow, my subconscious recognized the signs of Her battle with depression and tried to warn me. But I was too ignorant to take notice. The pit had consumed another victim. And I could have stopped it. But I didn’t. And now She is gone. I remember standing in the driveway with my best friend, shock seizing my limbs. She was sobbing. Her brother was screaming. A guttural sound. I will never forget it. The sound of a broken heart. His father had to restrain him, holding him down as he thrashed and yelled. He wanted to go in to see Her body. Her body hanging in the window. It took me a while to break the perpetual loop of self-loathing. To stop blaming myself for knowing in advance and doing nothing to prevent it. As if something could have been done. But one thing carried me through. It was a memory. Me, my best friend, and Her sitting crisscrossed on the floor. Newspapers scattered around us. Laughing. She was teaching us how to paint. She asked us about our dreams, then she told us to paint our dream. I was too young to understand so I painted a wonderland park. An ancient elm tree, under which a young couple danced, jubilant in their youth. I painted a world of magic and happiness. And She helped me. She helped me to perfect the lines. To mix the colours in just the right way. She helped me to realise my vision. To this day, her words echo in the back of my mind. “Paint what you love and then do it”. It was that advice that prompted me to begin a search for what I am passionate about. I joined martial arts and practiced for 5 years. I joined the theatre. The photography club. I joined a circus and practiced aerial dance and contortion. I tried horseback riding. And scuba diving. I swam with dolphins and hiked the grand canyon. I tried baking, drawing, singing, dancing, and writing. And then I found medicine and I knew immediately that I discovered my passion. I want to become a nurse. I want to travel the world, lending a helping hand to those who need it most. To help others in the way that I could not help Her. She inspired me to live my life to its fullest. To experiment with the colours of life just as she had with the colours on canvas. To never be afraid to try something new, because it just might become your calling. She was an amazing woman and because of her, I found my passion. https://i.imgur.com/nILyUnP.jpeg (The painting, circa 2010. Copy and paste.)

The bird was dead. I had watched her thrashing around, slamming herself against the lucid yellow sides of the shoebox, struggling, clinging to whatever little life she had left. And I was helpless to do anything but watch. Watch her life ebb away. One moment, she seemed to be fighting, writhing, and churning. Her muscles seized up and suddenly she was still. She was dead. And I could only watch. Already, she was beginning to grow stiff, the wind gently stirring her feathers. And it broke me. I had been prone to collecting injured animals ever since I could understand the concept of pain. I would take them home in my yellow shoebox. From there, I would find some way to nurse them back to health or find a sanctuary that could. I have saved lizards, rabbits, dogs, even hatchling birds. This was the first time one had died. And I must admit, it hurt. I got home on the verge of tears that day - the body of the dove still laying lifeless within my shoebox. At the time, I did not have the vocabulary to verbalize the exact emotions I was feeling. I do now. It was a distinct feeling of helplessness. Because what is the point of even trying if I was doomed to fail? A little girl could not possibly make a dent in the number of deaths caused by roadside accidents. Right!? I mean, no matter how hard I tried, one child couldn’t possibly save them all. So why try? But my mom was my saving grace that day. She told me a story that I remember hearing during my years as a Girl Scout. ~ ‘A young girl is walking along the seaside after a brutal storm. Every so often, she stoops down and plucks a washed-up starfish from the sand, then tosses it back into the ocean. The people around her guffaw in laughter, jeering as they tell her that she could not possibly make a difference. There were thousands of starfish on the beach. The young girl merely plucks another starfish from the ground and tosses it back into the sea. Then she turns and says: “I made a difference to that one”. ‘ ~ That story has had an acute effect on me and my perception of the world. It taught me that change is about the impact we make on a single life. It taught me that profound changes are not necessarily the largest. That is the kind of change I wish to make. This is the kind of change that led me into an impassioned pursuit of a career in the STEM fields. I began obsessively taking courses in school that related to anything even remotely medical. Out of school, I volunteered and attended summer camps. The more I learned of the many professions offered in this field, the deeper my aspirations became to be part of one. As a travel nurse, I plan to traverse the globe and visit under-served communities, lending a helping hand wherever I can. By sharing my experiences and stories, I hope to dispel some preconceived notions regarding the nature of many of the most misunderstood cultures in our world. The Earth is a massively beautiful thing, I know that I could never live with myself knowing that I did not give myself the opportunity to explore and discover every inch of it. While I wasn’t able to save my dove, there are still thousands of other starfish out there, just waiting for someone to give them the helping hand they need to thrive.

I have been told that I have the cumulative attention span of a gnat. I hop from place to place, trying one thing or the next. My mind is a busy place. Buzzing with ideas, solutions, and thoughts. And while those words were likely meant to be negative, I always took it as a compliment. It means I am motivated to try new things, to expand my horizons. I fix onto a new subject, activity, or hobby which fills me with passion. A powerful passion that motivates me to continue to explore that new fixation. My passions are intense but fleeting. I spent half a decade progressing in the belted ranks of karate. I spent a couple of more years mastering rock wall climbing and equestrian handling. I have been on the soccer team, the swim team, and even the tumbling team for a brief amount of time. I have participated in several dance groups, theatre troupes, and acted in more than my fair share of plays. I’ve discovered the hidden worlds of writing, the wonders of photography, and the joys of drawing. I have explored the deepest canyons and hiked some of the tallest mountains. I have uncovered the deepest depths of oceanic caves, diving to push the envelope of my comfort zone, and swam with sea manatees. My interests and hobbies have caused me to explore every aspect of myself from my physical capacity to my mental and emotional limitations. My current passion is circus arts. I dance in the air, complete impossible feats and float within the suspension of everyone’s disbelief. I am an aerialist. I am currently mastering silks, trapeze, and aerial hoop as well as dabbling in contortion and knife-throwing. My current passion for this abnormal past time has allowed me to progress in the levels quickly and effectively all the while building my strength and pushing the limit of what I previously physically felt possible. As an aerialist, I exist outside of my comfort zone. Seeking discomfort and existing outside of one’s comfort zone is where the most genuine and the truest connections are forged. To live in the space where plausibility meets impossibility. And to thrive within it. And while all of my other passions have been intense, albeit fleeting, only one has remained strong and steadfast throughout the years: my desire to work with medicine. Reflecting upon it, I cannot discern why that one particular interest has remained unwavering while others have dulled. I can only assume that it is the thing I am meant to do. Even as a child, I have had the drive to go into the medical field. It was one of my many passionate fixations. I seized every opportunity to delve deeper and explore career options. I went to vet camp for many years, learned how to administer vaccinations and stitch up injuries. I’ve attended medical seminars, excitedly listening to the experiences and stories of the doctors and nurses on the panels. And now I have finally reached that stage in my life in which I must pursue what I have been dreaming about since I was a child. I want to get a Doctorate in Nursing and become a CRNA. I want to travel the world on extended contracts and discover cultures unlike my own. It is a wild and ambitious dream- and one I am fully committed to.

"Two Breaths" It is incredible what can happen in that space between two breaths When I am up in the air, time seems to stand still. And as I dance and twirl within the suspension of my own disbelief, I find myself pushing the limits of what I physically felt possible. There is an uncertainty to each inhale, anxiety plaguing whether or not it would be my last. But to live a life dictated by that uncertainty is not a life worth living. Ultimately, our time here is a gift. It is not something we are entitled to, and we can’t control it. But we can choose how we spend it. And so I dance... And dance... And so I fly... I test my limits every time I climb into the air. And I emerge from that with resilience and passion. To live in the space where plausibility meets impossibility. And to thrive within it. That is my everything. Seeking discomfort and exploring the world outside of my comfort zone is where the most genuine and the most true connections are forged. In that space between two breaths, that is where the often hidden colours of human kindness lie. But to find them takes grit. It takes the tenacity to seek discomfort and to push yourself past your limitations. I hope to expose these fleeting moments. To prove to the world that everything is connected. That we aren’t divided by state, country, gender, or race. But are united by a single word. ~Humanity~. That is where my everything lies. In the resilience of compassion and the triumph of love. In the space where I am the most uncomfortable. Where I have pushed myself beyond the point of plausibility and tread within the realm of impossibility. Where I have overcome my mental and physical barriers and have squashed my prejudice. In the space between two breaths, ~...is where my everything lies.~

My past experiences have taught me a lot about how I want to live my life. My own struggle with anxiety has taught me to seek discomfort. Because life’s deepest connection and greatest experiences always exist outside the bounds of our comfort zones. To preface, I am very fortunate. I have only ever had to deal with severe anxiety once in my life. I was young at the time and we were hiking in Havasupai. I grossly overestimated my abilities on the way back up. I was already exhausted from hiking nearly every day during the duration of our stay. I assumed that I would be just as energized and ready hiking up as I was down. Gravity was not much of a consideration. Our tour group separated into two sections. The fast hikers and the leisure hikers. I went with the fast hikers which quickly proved to be a bit much for my little 12-year-old legs. I found myself separated from the fast hikers but still miles ahead of the leisure hikers. For a little kid, it was truly terrifying. There was no one there to keep my company save for a stray dog we had affectionately named Lily. For some background, Havasupai has been isolated for so long. The locals were essentially inaccessible from the rest of society for years, so long that they have grown their own breed of dog. A species of dog that you cannot find anywhere else but the Grand Canyon. We referred to them as Canyon Dogs. And the canyon is absolutely filled with these dogs. But I would not feel bad for them. They get a ton of food from the tourists and from the locals. They are super friendly and are known to follow hikers in and out of the canyon. I took shelter beneath a rock and had a full-blown panic attack. I physically couldn’t breathe. I could hardly even see around the tears in my eyes. Every gasping, shuddering breath I took seemed to only worsen my condition. It wasn’t until I felt the cool sensation of Lily’s nose pressed up against my palm that I was actually able to think straight. Lily walked a few paces forward then turned to stare back at me. I got it in my head that she wanted me to follow. So I did. Lily actually led me out of the canyon that day. I am sure she took that route dozens of times every week. But the fact that she was able to recognize my distress and knew where to take me still blows my mind. Animals are incredibly intuitive and intelligent creatures. Especially dogs. I have always led an adventurous life. I have been skiing since I could walk and diving since I turned 13. I’ve been hundreds of feet below the surface in a cavernous blue hole unable to see even my fingers in front of my hand. I continuously put myself in uncomfortable situations to explore the boundaries of what I thought possible. But nothing has ever scared me more than the day I hiked the Grand Canyon. While it is a terrifying memory, it is a valuable one. It taught me that my anxious thoughts are just that. Thoughts. I refuse to let that nagging sensation in the back of my mind prevent me from experiencing life outside of my comfort zone. Every day is a struggle, and it has been even worse this year. I am worrying about every little thing. What if I don’t get into college? What if I can’t afford it? What if I flunk High School because online learning has decayed my mind? What if I lost all of my friends during this? A lot of my concerns are frivolous in nature but they force me to reconcile with myself. To tell myself that I can push through and make it out, just like how Lily showed me. I won’t have someone to guide my life so it is about time I take charge of my own and seek discomfort.

History is an interesting thing. For years it was dominated by men who could not conceive that women could possibly make any kind of impact. This resulted in the mass erasure of many women from history. It has not been until recently that these incredible women are being re-discovered. Women who's names you have never heard of in the history books. Women who had made a lasting and influential impact on history. Some’s impact (regardless of its outcome) on the world and the people around them is ultimately their legacy. Some historical figures have left a profound and lasting legacy, and their impacts can still be felt generations later. Florence Nightingale, often referred to as the mother of modern nursing, reformed the horrid hygienic quality of existing healthcare settings and introduced a new standardized quality of care which persists to this day. Arsinoe, the lesser-known sister of Cleopatra, raised an army to usurp the throne and become Queen of Egypt. She also defenestrated Julius Caesar from the Lighthouse of Alexandria. These influential women left their own unique kind of legacy- each one just as valuable as the last. But they are among a few of many inspirational women who have left their legacies on our world- despite history’s erasure. To leave a legacy is to be remembered. To impact others and the world around you. To make a difference. To stand up in the face of adversity and overcome it. To leave a legacy is to be prepared for all of life’s hurdles, and to regain your footing should life knock you down. While I do not expect to rule a kingdom or raise an army, I hope to leave my own legacy. This led me into the STEM field, following in the hygienic footsteps of Florence Nightingale. As a traveling nurse in the Air Force, I can experience the world. I can help others and offer my talents to a greater cause. And once I began to delve into the possibilities of travel, I decided to do something incredibly dangerous (and incredibly foolish according to some). I decided that I, as a solo female traveler, would travel to every single country in the world. As a hobbyist author, I have always been interested in people, places, and cultures that defy previously assumed stereotypes and expose the limitations to many of our worldviews. Fear has blindsided the rest of the world to some immensely rich and beautiful cultures. I hope that through my writings and photography, I can change that. By sharing my experiences and stories, I hope to dispel some preconceived notions regarding the nature of many of the most misunderstood cultures in our world. That will be my legacy. The work and stories I leave behind will preserve a part of me as they are told and retold. My photography, the lives I'll touch, the people I meet- they will all become a part of my legacy. And I can only hope to leave a positive one.

Like so many others, I often fall prey to my insecurities. Maybe I developed a large pimple that day, or I received a test back, and the letter ‘D’ was written in the corner with accusatory red ink. All of it seemed to scream to me, “you are not enough.” I will admit that these days are particularly harsh, but it is a universal human experience. When I begin to critique my flaws, I often find solace in standing before a mirror. As I appraise my reflection, I realize that I should be grateful for what I have. I can run. I can dance. I am not physically limited by my body. But best of all, I have been given the talent to express myself through words. While most of my peers have taken to artistry, the only lines I ever had a knack for drawing were those that comprise letters. Many struggle to express themselves through words, so they have turned to art or dance. I’ve never had an inclination for either, so I chose the most direct method of self-expression. Writing. It is ironic considering that I hated to even read as a child. But by the 3rd grade, my books had to be forcibly taken from me upon entering a classroom. My eager consumption of anything and everything literary resulted in a comprehensive vocabulary that extended far beyond your average 3rd grader. I have never ceased to hone my skill. I have written original novels, published in local magazines, and even indulged myself in the world of fanfiction. While I have always been able to express myself verbally, I have lacked the ability to express myself visually. That is why I wish to minor in photography. I hope to learn the science of camera angles, color theory, and telling a story through a still frame. As a writer, I have always been interested in people, places, and cultures that defy previously assumed stereotypes and expose the limitations to many of our worldviews. Fear has blindsided the rest of the world to some immensely rich and beautiful cultures. I sincerely hope to use my skills in writing in photography to change that. By sharing my experiences and stories, I hope to dispel some preconceived notions regarding the nature of many of the most misunderstood cultures in our world. The Earth is a massively beautiful thing. I know that I could never live with myself knowing that I did not allow myself to explore and discover every inch of it.

It always amused adults when I told them I did not want to grow up because I did not want to pay taxes. Although I had no idea that I was touching on something more at the time, I had always known that I could never wind up as a wage-slave. The rat-race was painted as some kind of inevitability which I could only dread. Nothing pained me more than knowing that I would live and die inconsequentially. Many leave children behind to continue their "legacy". These people neglect to realize that within a few generations, someone will speak their name for the final time. And after that, they would be truly dead. These admittedly pessimistic thoughts spurred from a rather dark and challenging time in my life when my family was uprooted and was forced to move to a whole new state. However, I now see that move as a positive thing. It allowed me to remake myself as the person I wanted to be. It allowed me to start fresh. And it also helped me to realize that I was not condemned to the fate I had been dreading since I first learned the concept of paying taxes. And while paying taxes remains obligatory, I realized that I did not have to be a wage slave like my father and his father before him. If I wanted to break societal norms, I could and I would. I have to. As far as I know, I am getting one shot at this. And whatever material objects I gain in life cannot be taken with me in death. So, why not use this time to really make a difference? And to me, that is what it means to leave a legacy. Some’s impact (regardless of its outcome) on the world and the people around them is ultimately their legacy. Some historical figures have left a profound and lasting legacy, and their impacts can still be felt generations later. Florence Nightingale, often referred to as the mother of modern nursing, reformed the horrid hygienic quality of existing healthcare settings and introduced a new standardized quality of care which persists to this day. Arsinoe, the lesser-known sister of Cleopatra, raised an army to usurp the throne and become Queen of Egypt. She also defenestrated Julius Caesar from the Lighthouse of Alexandria. These influential women left their own unique kind of legacy- each one just as valuable as the last. But they are among a few of many inspirational women who have left their legacies on our world- despite history’s erasure. To leave a legacy is to be remembered. To impact others and the world around you. To make a difference. To stand up in the face of adversity and overcome it. To leave a legacy is to be prepared for all of life’s hurdles, and to regain your footing should life knock you down. While I do not expect to rule a kingdom or raise an army, I hope to leave my own legacy. This led me into the STEM field. As a traveling nurse in the Air Force, I can experience the world. I can help others and offer my talents to a greater cause. And once I began to delve into the possibilities of travel, I decided to do something incredibly dangerous (and incredibly foolish according to some). I decided that I, as a solo female traveler, would travel to every single country in the world. As a hobbyist author, I have always been interested in people, places, and cultures that defy previously assumed stereotypes and expose the limitations to many of our worldviews. Fear has blindsided the rest of the world to some immensely rich and beautiful cultures. I hope that through my writings and photography, I can change that. By sharing my experiences and stories, I hope to dispel some preconceived notions regarding the nature of many of the most misunderstood cultures in our world. That will be my legacy. The work and stories I leave behind will preserve a part of me as they are told and retold. My photography, the lives I'll touch, the people I meet- they will all become a part of my legacy. And I can only hope to leave a positive one.

When I was 15 years old, I was stricken with an inexplicable urge to explore. It was then that I decided to do something incredibly dangerous (and incredibly foolish according to some). I decided that I, as a solo female traveller, would travel to every single country in the world. As a hobbyist author, I have always been interested in people, places, and cultures that defy previously assumed stereotypes and expose the limitations to many of our world views. Fear has blindsided the rest of the world to some immensely rich and beautiful cultures. I hope that through my writings, photography and youtube channel, I can change that. I can document my story, exposing thousands of others to the true hidden beauty in some war-torn countries. This mission is vital to me as I hope to foster a greater level of empathy to those who watch my channel. By sharing my experiences and stories, I hope to dispel some preconceived notions regarding the nature of many of the most misunderstood cultures in our world. The Earth is a massively beautiful thing, I know that I could never live with myself knowing that I did not give myself the opportunity to explore and discover every inch of it.

When I was a young girl, I dreaded growing up. It always amused adults to tell them that I did not want to grow up because I did not want to pay taxes. Although I had no idea that I was touching on something deeper at the time, I had always known that I could never wind up as a wage-slave to capitalism. The rat-race was painted as some kind of inevitability which I could only dread. Nothing pained me more than knowing that I would live and die inconsequentially and within a few generations, someone will speak my name for the final time. And after that, I would be truly dead. These admittedly pessimistic thoughts spurred from a rather dark and challenging time in my life when my family was uprooted and I was forced to move to a whole new state. However, I now see that move as a positive thing. It allowed me to remake myself as the person I wanted to be. It allowed me to start fresh. And it also helped me to realise that I was not condemned to the fate I had been dreading since I first learnt the concept of tax-paying. If I wanted to break societal norms, I could and I would. I have to. As far as I know, I am getting one shot at this. And whatever material objects I gain in life cannot be taken with me in death. So, why not use this time to really make a difference in many people’s lives? Even if it is just a handful. This lead me into the STEM field. I have always been interested in medicine, initially as a vet given my love for animals. However, my interests evolved as I grew and I became more interested in human medicine. While I am no longer on the path to becoming a veterinarian, I have grown immensely interested in becoming a CRNA. This remains as an ultimate goal of mine. I have set my sights high and hope to one day open up my own clinic. I even have plans to take my skillset into the military where I can touch the lives of others while aiding my country. But it is a time-consuming and costly path. However, I believe it will be well worth it. As a travelling nurse, I can experience the world. I can set my own rules, be my own boss, and make my own choices. And once I began to delve into the possibilities of travel that the STEM field brought, I decided to do something incredibly dangerous (and incredibly foolish according to some). I decided that I, as an LGBT+ solo female traveller, would travel to every single country in the world. As a hobbyist author, I have always been interested in people, places, and cultures that defy previously assumed stereotypes and expose the limitations to many of our world views. Fear has blindsided the rest of the world to some immensely rich and beautiful cultures. By sharing my experiences and stories, I hope to dispel some preconceived notions regarding the nature of many of the most misunderstood cultures in our world. It was this craving for knowledge that initially lead me down the path of STEM and it will be my career in STEM that will allow me to flourish and travel. So, what does STEM mean to me? More than I can know. It is what my entire life's goals hinges on. It will allow me to learn and explore our world. As a travelling nurse, I can meet people and go places I never normally would have gone. It gives me the opportunity to explore my world while also helping as many people as possible. I know that I could never live with myself knowing that I did not give myself the opportunity to explore and discover every potential aspect that medicine has to offer. That is why I need to succeed. That is why I will succeed. I can’t afford to fail.