Peter. The name traces back to the ancient Aramaic word Cephas, meaning "stone" or "rock," a symbol of strength and a firm foundation. It is timeless and recognizable throughout countless cultures and languages. Yet despite its history, the name has faded over the past several decades, slipping from one of America's most common names to one that is surprisingly rare. In theory, the odds of spending thirteen years in the same school district without meeting another individual named Peter are remarkably low. Yet from kindergarten through senior year, I remained the only Peter in my school. How could a name be so recognizable, yet so uncommon at the same time? Starting in elementary school, being the only Peter came with a cruel and unusual cost. Prior to my classmates meeting me for the first time, they attached fictional characters to my name. They thought I lived in Neverland, shot webs like Spider-Man, or was an animal taken straight from the pages of children's books like Peter Rabbit. I was everyone except my own self. The name-calling jokes were never malicious enough to be memorable on their own, but after years of hearing them, they hindered my sense of identity. Peter is not my first name, but rather a shortened version of my double-barreled first name: Peter-Art. This only invited more confusion. Many asked, "Is Art your middle name?" and, "Were your parents hoping you'd become an artist?" Every explanation seemed to raise more questions than it answered. Even official forms and documents struggled with the hyphen, sometimes replacing the hyphen with a space, omitting it altogether, or treating "Art" as my middle or last name. Over time, I became so detached from my own name that many of my closest friends in high school called me by my online username, 'Narby.' Ironically, a name I had invented felt simpler than Peter-Art. By the end of middle school, my curiosity finally outweighed frustration. I asked my father the question I should have asked years ago: "Why did you name me Peter-Art?" In seconds, he simply responded that my name was a tribute to both of my grandfathers: Pedro and Arturo. My name was never meant to be unique for the sake of standing out. It was a bridge between two generations of my family. Peter, the stone, symbolizes a solid foundation. Arthur, the bear, is associated with leadership and impact. Together, they gave me a name that I spent years trying to understand, and a legacy I'm proud to carry. For years, I thought my name was something I had to explain. Now, it's something I'm proud to introduce myself as Peter-Art, and I hold it with love and respect. Whether I'm designing spaces that bring people together or creating music that tells a story, I've realized that every meaningful creation begins with a strong foundation before an idea can become something tangible. Through architecture, I hope to design spaces where people feel welcomed. Through music, I hope to create experiences that tell beautiful stories. Most importantly, that's exactly what my name did for me. It became the foundation on which I continue to build my identity and the foundation I hope to build for others.

“What’s past is prologue.” William Shakespeare’s words from The Tempest reflect how I understand growth. Where a person begins does not determine where they will end up. Commitment and effort do. This belief is also why I am pursuing architecture. Architecture allows ideas to become real, and I am motivated by the challenge of creating spaces that are thoughtful and meaningful. Despite having “Art” in my name, I did not grow up with strong artistic ability. I had no formal art classes, little confidence in visual expression, and no natural talent in design. What I did have was curiosity and persistence. In eighth grade, I spent many afternoons gaming without a clear sense of direction until I discovered a platformer game on Roblox built from community-created environments. Every structure in the game existed because someone chose to create it. That idea inspired me to begin designing my own builds, even without any training. I learned by observing others, studying my mistakes, and improving through repetition. Over time, my work was accepted by curators among hundreds of submissions. That experience taught me that consistent growth can outweigh raw talent, and confidence is built through effort. Music became another important part of my development. I have been participating in band since sixth grade as a euphonium player because of my siblings’ influence. While I did not immediately succeed through auditions, I chose not to lose interest. Instead, I redirected my efforts toward composing and arranging music. During my sophomore year, I arranged a stand tune titled Stop, Drop, Roll, which was later performed by the entire band at football games. Hearing my own work performed by others was a defining moment. It helped me earn a section leader role and strengthened my ability to problem solve, collaborate, and design with intention. These are skills that directly align with architectural practice. From gamer to creator and player to arranger, these experiences were prologue to realizing that architecture was the right path for me when I entered a four-year Career and Technical Education architecture program as a freshman. For the first time, I found a field that required both creativity and sustained effort. Balancing architecture projects with advanced coursework and band was overwhelming, but it felt meaningful. Long nights designing floor plans, revising and receiving critiques back-to-back, and presenting increased my determination. My projects stood out for their creativity, precision, and leadership in group settings. My work has been recognized by instructors and professional architects associated with the American Institute of Architects, and a few of my projects have been used as examples for other students. Those moments confirmed that architecture was the path I wanted to pursue. I am pursuing architecture because I am passionate about turning ideas into spaces that serve people. Ambition constantly motivates me to push my potential, discipline keeps me focused, and passion drives my effort to improve. I have learned that success is not defined by where you begin, but by how willing you are to grow. Before, my name felt like a contradiction. Now, it represents the effort behind it.