Ever since I met Kira, my goal in Minecraft has never been to beat the Ender Dragon, or even reach the Nether (falling in lava and losing all my things tests my patience). In second grade, I was brought into a foster family who had a dog named Kira. Kira was absolutely everything to me; I made several heart lockets with hastily printed, low-quality photos of her face stuck by Elmer’s glue to them, and would wear them for days straight. I would try and sleep in her dog bed with her as a seven year old before my foster mom would send me to bed. I even taped pictures of myself to her pink collar, claiming it was a friendship bracelet for her because to me, we were best friends, and transcended the mere companionship of other dogs and humans. Years later, I came back to visit my foster parents, and they informed me with ease that Kira passed away. They had clearly gotten over it so quickly, which almost insulted me, as Kira was an ethereal being in my then eleven-year old mind that deserved months, even years, of grief and worship of her legacy. I could not fathom how quickly and gracefully they accepted her passing. I cried for days as I fell asleep, drowning in the belief that I couldn’t see her once more before she passed. I am now eighteen, attending UCLA as a second-year undergraduate, and have a new doggy at home. Everytime I create a new world on Minecraft, however, I build a house that resembles that of my foster parents’ as my new cabin in the world. Inside, I keep a wolf with a pink collar, so I can always meet Kira’s soulful gaze in a fictional world.

On a crisp morning at 5am, I soggily dragged myself from my bed onto my chair, plugged in my microscope, and prepared a sample slide. A rancorous divorce commenced fights between my parents at random hours, including 5am. I was flustered at times like these, and was willing to search for hours for the slightest movement in a sample to restore my motivation. Under a blanket of fascination, a sample along with my AirPods playing Converge on almost damage-inducing volume, would take me far away from the madness at 5am. After enough searching, I would find the most minute-appearing microorganism at 1000x magnification, clinging for its life to a piece of dirt amid the flood of water. So different, yet so similar, we were both prisoners to our instincts: to want to succeed, and to want to live. I applied the last sentence of my AP biology textbook to the moment, "We protect what we appreciate, and we appreciate what we understand." While the little creature may have only appreciated that piece of dirt in the moment, that was all that it understood. Humans, designed imperfectly, have a similar fearful nature to these creatures. Still, we can function and perform complex reasoning. We can save lives, and we can take them away. Our instincts push us to move, and abandoning hope is usually a final option. Nonetheless, we cling to our little pieces of dirt throughout hardships, in fear that our comfort zone is the only thing that can keep us safe. My comfort zone, for the longest time, was in the safety of my headphones with bands such as Bring Me the Horizon or Ice Nine Kills soothing my ears and mind. That morning, the turbulence of my parents’ fight complimented the music that brought me thus far. This familiarity brought me solace, but I knew that it was time to change, just as I am supposed to. I concluded that scientific research is a field that I want to pursue, even if it meant surpassing my comfort zone. I took several actions to further my interest, applied for every university that had a good reputation in my major interests, and to my surprise, I was accepted into UCLA as I was getting a tattoo. My tattoo artist, unexpectedly, did not appear enthused for me. She explained that years ago, she also gained admission into UCLA, but was not able to attend due to its tuition and housing costs. Unlike her, however, the moment I received my acceptance letter, I knew that I was going to do whatever it took to study at UCLA, including taking out multiple loans as a first-year student because financial aid was not offered to me. Next year, I will take out a private loan for the remaining cost of attendance not covered by scholarships, which can be as high as forty-thousand dollars as I am awaiting results. My father has too much debt to support my education endeavors, and I am no longer in contact with my mom. These obstacles, though impeding, only serve to create a blank canvas for me, where I can pursue my potential under the stress of financial pressure. At UCLA, I plan to switch to major in Neuroscience once I complete my prerequisites, as a particular higher-division class has sparked my interest: Music, Mind, and Brain. Why do the lyrics of “To Forgive is to Suffer” by Death seem to swim through my brain so graciously? Exploring the unknown in Neuroscience, as well as conducting research in the field, brings me the same solace that camping at my microscope with headphones on did before I even applied to UCLA. Heavy metal music, in combination with STEM education, is what pushes me to persevere, and be resilient to change that I am initially afraid of, where I might just find serenity [Death, To Forgive is to Suffer]. Today, my once blank canvas is drawn with scientific interest, and painted by metal music that propels me.

Warning: Spoilers for "Sound of Metal" on Amazon Prime Video "Sound of Metal", directed by Darius Marder, is not a film I entirely resonate with, as I am not a member of the deaf community, but with every watch, it has taught me a story of resilience and identity. "Sound of Metal", to me, transcends entertainment to become a reflection of the human condition as we adapt to challenges thrown at us at rapid-fire. The protagonist, Ruben Stone, a heavy metal drummer, faces a life-altering challenge when he begins to lose his hearing. Ruben is forced to grapple a future without sound, and seek a new identity, as his previous one is deeply intertwined with his passion for playing drums. While watching this movie, I have again and again contemplated how his situation might be avoidable. Doctors informed Ruben that his loss of hearing was tied to him consistently surrounding himself with loud environments as a drummer. Though it would have been hard for him to foresee this circumstance, I question whether Ruben would have avoided playing drums altogether if it meant that he could keep his hearing forever. In joining the deaf community, Ruben witnesses how they interpret deafness not as a disability, but a unique way of perceiving the world. This mindset has been very impactful for me, and has enabled me to push through circumstances flung at me, such as my mother’s periodic relapses. Ruben had recovered from addiction but was then faced with a completely new challenge of adapting to being deaf. Witnessing sobriety and deterioration constantly around me growing up has allowed me to see that life does not make promises, which is a theme encompassed in "Sound of Metal". It is especially seen when Ruben, at the end of the film, purchases cochlear implants, but learns that they do not even reflect traditional hearing. Though the film ends on this note, seeing Ruben’s pattern of acceptance leads me to believe that he will adapt once again, and that he will do it with grace. "Sound of Metal" speaks directly to my heart, as I have learned again and again that humans are malleable. We are blank canvases that grow resilient to physical and emotional turmoil. Whether watched for the first time or the hundredth, "Sound of Metal" allows me to acknowledge that familiarity brings me solace, but change is what allows me to appreciate what once was. In turn, I adapt, and I change, just as I am supposed to.

Something I would like to mention before discussing solutions is that I love all living things, especially, bugs, which are the basis of many ecosystems. I love all animals and their practicalities. If I could remove all humans permanently from the Earth to ensure that its natural beauty could be preserved, I absolutely would. Of course, not all humans would agree to this. In fact, I don't think anyone would agree to this. The effects of humans on the planet might be coming to an incorrigible end. It is difficult to persuade individuals of different backgrounds to care about a subject such as climate change or animal welfare that has become popularized in the recent decades, especially if they have been building towards goals related to industry or economic well-being all their career. Therefore, implementing solutions that can be used on a global scale will take some convincing, and their benefits will have to be emphasized the most. The first solution that I believe can be applied on a wide scale is eco-bricking. Eco-bricking uses plastic bottles packed with plastic wrappers that would otherwise be thrown away (and in many cases, end up in the environment) to help build products such as furniture or buildings. Instead of constantly investing in new materials to essentially fill empty space in daily utilities, such as walls or insides of benches, eco-bricking could stimulate the economy as an elastic resource, appeasing those who want to prioritize the economy over the environment, and prevent increasing plastic outflow into waste disposal centers. Eco-bricking could be a solution similar to recycling, where it impacts individuals by asking that they pack their plastic eco-bricks themselves with their daily leftover wrappers and such, or it could become a form of employment similar to recycling centers. The drawback to eco-bricking is that it does not address the root problem, which is overuse of plastic. The reason I believe eco-bricking is a good solution at the moment is because fully converting companies to paper or other material instead of plastic will not appease economists who prioritize gross domestic product. Therefore, eco-bricking is a good temporary solution as environmentalists brainstorm a way to address the root problem of plastic overuse. The second solution that I believe can be applied is improvement of welfare in meat-producing farms. Factory farms usually have the highest output of product, making prices cheaper, and allowing consumers to not question the origin of their food. However, not only is factory farming or "cage-free" farming morally wrong, but it leads to more contagious disease outbreaks and unhealthier food. While it takes up the least land, concentrated-feeding operations produce many pollutants that disturb surrounding ecosystems anyways. A way to combat the effects of CAFOS is for the government to subsidy factory farms to convert to spacious and healthier farms. Free-grazing has been pointed out to deplete vegetation, but if animals graze rotationally, there is enough time for vegetation to replenish. Eliminating factory farms completely would again, fluster the economy, therefore, factory farms simply need to be reformed, not removed. In conclusion, most changes that need to be made in the next few years to combat environmental crises will need to satisfy both economists and environmentalists, who each wish to prioritize their own fields. A production possibilities frontier will need to be created between the environment and the economy, with a priority set in between the two that can lead to long-term sustainability. My personal lifelong goal is to dedicate time and money to organizations that can help guarantee long-term sustainability, or create an organization that can fulfill this obligation that humans have to the planet.