It's a common thing to hear students complain about their hatred for math. It's not as intuitive as more creative pursuits and subjects, reading or history, for example. In math there are defined answers (most of the time) or a defined step by step process to achieve an answer or conclusion. I love math because it allows me to hone in on my problem solving skills. Once a formula is memorized it becomes routine to my brain. I find it similar to the feeling of success one may experience when they crack a puzzle or move one step ahead in an escape room. Yes, it takes extra care and attention to be a successful math student, but that hard work and concentrated effort pays off. I enjoy the feeling of success found in math. Despite this success, I can also acknowledge as a former AP Calculus student, that sometimes math is frustrating. It can be complex, impossible to understand, or hard to parse through. What matters when we are faced with obstacles though, is perseverance. A part of me has always enjoyed proving and displaying that I can do hard things. Math is a testament to the statment that hard work pays off.

I was always an outspoken child. I was the child whose mother got frustrated with them for talking back. I was the child who raised her hand after everything a teacher said, always looking for reassurance, clarity, and knowledge. I was headstrong, eager, and always ready to voice my opinion. It's unfortunate that as a child we learn that certain things about us are "wrong". Societal pressures get in the way, and as we grow into teenagers and young adults we do what everybody else does to survive. We adapt. We decide that certain aspects of ourselves are "wrong" or distracting or simply just annoying. Our peers so deeply influence who we become. As I entered my early teen years I took the messaging of my peers straight to the heart. It was not a good thing to be a loud girl. It was no longer a good thing to be outspoken, or to speak my mind. The most proper way to go about my life was to sit, and be silent. That way, no one could have anything to say about me any longer. As most come to realize, I was certainly wrong. I went from the loudest, most interested voice in the classroom to the silent girl sitting in the back. I was given the name "The Quiet Girl". This new name only hurt worse. Not only was it mean spirited, it wasn't the truth. I was hiding who I really was and even this fake version of myself would not and could not be good enough. The truth is, no matter how I presented myself, how I spoke, or what I prioritized someone else would always have an opinion. Someone else would always find a way to critique whatever decisions I made, or whatever opinions I spoke out loud. I've come to realize that my "awkward" thing were the exact traits that made me stand out, and were the characteristics that would help me achieve my goals, despite some pushback. I've learned that when you say something true or important, people stop to listen. Those people's thoughts after the fact simply do not matter. What matters is what makes me happy. What feels most comfortable for me. And what's comfortable for me may seem wrong or a little bit weird to someone else. But they don't get to make my choice. Without my "awkward thing" I would not have applied to a college that praises and invites individuality. I would not have gone on the radio to sing my original music. I would not have taken the jump to perform in front of crowds of people. I would not have taken each jump that has made me who I am today. I feel that the most important lesson one learns was that their peers were wrong. Whatever makes you different is what is most powerful, most yourself, and most important.

We all have had someone enter our life, change its entire landscape, and leave as quickly as they appeared. We've all felt that aching in our gut at the loss of a friend, partner, or family member. Losing someone can feel like we are losing ourselves. The song Stranger by Olivia Rodrigo addresses this topic succinctly, and perfectly describes how the first breath of air without the weight off grief and loss on one's chest feels. "You're just a stranger I know everything about". Acceptance is considered to be the "final" stage of grief, although grief is scarcely a linear or circular process. Grief is everything and everywhere and simply put, all over the place. But in Stranger, Olivia Rodrigo states the truth of the matter. She accepts where she is at. Although she has experienced loss, she does not hold grudges anymore, she does not walk through each day with a heavy heart, and she does not need to sugarcoat her own life. There are many people in my life I've lost touch with. People who I've grown out of, or people who have grown out of me. There are people that I had to move on from for my own sanity, and people I lost through my own errors. This is part of the pain that accompanies the transition from childhood into adulthood. As I moved from high school to college and back to my home town again I saw and experienced just how quickly the people that I used to see every day now play different roles in my life. My friends from high school aren't people that I see much anymore. And at times it hurts deeply. It feels really scary and lonely when I'm in between semesters, and it totally feels strange to miss someone who lives ten minutes away from me. At the same time, it also feels exciting to be hurdling towards a new life. I have learned to accept where I am right now. To accept that my past memories happened, but to not hold on too tightly. I will always make more. I've grown to believe that even though not everyone in our lives can hold a permanent space in it, the space someone holds for the time they do is deeply important to our personal development. My friends and life from high school were precisely what I needed at the time. What I need now is simply different. So although there may be some strangers I know very deeply, I've learned that it is okay to move on, to change, to outgrow, and to develop. At the end of the day, it will change all over again.

From the age of seven onwards, I watched Girl Meets World with my mom every single week as each episode came out. The same way she watched Boy Meets World with her kids before me, my older siblings. This glimpse of connection in my house and in my family was rare, and particularly special. I knew I wanted to be a musician from the age of eight onwards. This was of course to the dismay of my parents, no one in our household could afford for me to go to lessons, and to pursue such a difficult career was not something to be supported. So, instead of taking lessons, or engaging in more traditional forms of music study as a kid, I instead collected the CDs of my favorite singer-songwriters, including Sabrina Carpenter. I brought the lyric book inserts with me everywhere from the school bus, to the mall, to the playground. I would write down my favorite lyrics and songs, memorize their meanings, and sing louder and louder, despite my peers wishing I would stop constantly singing. Eventually, I picked up a guitar, and I haven't stopped writing since. Sabrina Carpenter was one of the first artists I could see myself in. I deeply related to her character on Girl Meets World, and I eventually deeply related to her personal storytelling and songwriting abilities. Without artists like her I would've never had the courage to pick up a guitar and teach myself my first ever chords.

I have always said that music saved me. Listening to the deep confessions of the artists I looked up to through song made me feel less alone. As a musician myself, I've seen firsthand just how important this power can be. How collective an audience can become, how united people can really be. In a time of division and uncertainty, the most important thing becomes finding ways for people to remain connected despite this uncertainty. My music dives deep into my worst fears, secrets, and moments. I can only wish it could impact a listener as much as my favorite artists have impacted and continue to impact me. Music and songwriting are my outlets, but they can be another's relief, and for that I'm grateful. Sharing my music makes both myself and my listeners know we are less alone. Performing for an audience creates live connection and understanding. I hope my music can be a positive force through the darkness, and a way to grapple with the uncertainty life brings.

My dreams began at age eight when I wrote down my first lyrics. They were for a song called "Lucky You". I can't exactly remember the contents of this song, it exists more as a childhood memory, however, I can remember exactly what this moment struck in me. This was of course a passion and desire I would follow for the rest of my life as I know it. Singing, writing, and performing for others is now an integral component of my identity. Music is everything that defines me as a person and friend. I enjoy a large chunk of my free time at concerts, both for my favorite artists and local acts. I post my music online for anyone to hear, I perform whenever possible, and I have begun to work on releasing a debut EP under the title "Full Moon" inspired by a song I wrote when I was fifteen years old. This musical passion began from a single act, and a single lyric, but has expanded into what has kept me going, and has inspired me to become the person I am today. Starting at the age of ten I began to show clear signs of an anxiety disorder. As I entered my teenage years I began experiencing turbulence at home and exhibiting signs and symptoms of depression and low self esteem. What helped me in these shaky moments were my favorite artists, and the songs that connected me with reality. I was not alone, and I never could be, as long as I had music in my life. With this in mind I wrote my way through this emotional turbulence. I wrote about every negative, fearful, scary thought I had, and suddenly these thoughts weren't just mine anymore. They were a piece of work, a piece of art that I could celebrate, take pride in, and share with others. Others reminded me I was not alone, and not only that, but that my work could help someone else feel less alone. Just like music had done for me. As I continue to strive towards my future my goals become more clear to me. Rather than a specific career field or designated career path I see myself becoming someone multifaceted, yet still focused. I want to pursue the arts in a way that encourages drive, passion, and enthusiasm in others, whether that occurs in a specific age group, like children or the elderly through music therapy or exposure, or a widened group of people through the releasing of my own music.

Starting from the age of eight onwards I knew I wanted to create music. I was inspired by the women I saw pursuing their goals in the music industry, forging their own path with emotional lyrics. And so, like almost every other young girl of my generation, I picked up a guitar and sang songs by Taylor Swift, hoping one day I could perform my own melodies on a stage for thousands to hear. Now, I may not perform for thousands, but I've fulfilled my musical dreams more than I could have imagined. I've performed my own music for hundreds, made friends with other singer/songwriters, taken part in open mics, talent shows, practiced being an opener, and even headlined my own performances at local coffee shops and venues. My dreams do not stop here. I am currently dedicating a portion of my studies to my greatest interest and passion at Sarah Lawrence College, forty minutes outside of New York City where I can continue to pursue becoming a singer/songwriter. I share my music online, and plan to release an EP at the end of 2026 with a debut single coming out in August, written, produced, and performed completely by me. Pursuing music as a young woman who is working her way through her own tuition comes with particular struggles. Usually, producing and releasing a song has an economic cost, let alone how much time it takes to fully produce and master a track to one's liking. Women are also less visible and appreciated in the field of producing, and there are few female producers out there in general. These struggles may dissuade me at times but they also remind me of my own determination and grit. I am willing to work through my struggles and emotions to achieve my goals. Music is something that has always been there for me. Through every moment of familial and economic turbulence, every breakup, and every friendship fallout I have had music to fall back on. All I could ever wish is that one day someone will hear one of my songs and feel the way I have felt about music my entire life. To share my music at all is a gift, and I can only hope that it can resonate with an audience, or make someone feel less alone. I want my personal life experiences, and my reckoning with them on such a public scale to be a reminder to believe in yourself, and to feel as deeply as your heart and soul feels necessary. Feeling is a deeply human trait, and music celebrates and uplifts this fact on a scale seen scarcely otherwise.

I wrote my first song at eight years old in a torn up composition notebook on my bedroom floor with a mini Taylor Swift guitar. I knew in that moment that I wanted to create and I wanted to be like the idols I looked up to, creating art that resonates with an audience. At fifteen I revisited this dream, playing in front of a crowd for the first time at my school's talent show. 800 people watched as I anxiously and awkwardly strummed on my Fender guitar, lugging a clunky stool with wires tangled up in a mess below my feet. At seventeen I introduced my music to radio, making an appearance on my local station for the first time. Now, I am studying music in college, a place I never imagined I'd get to be as a young girl documenting the tumult of her life, and the challenges she experienced onto faded blue lines on loose leaf paper. As of right now, I am working on releasing my first EP, named Dear, Skylar. It holds every piece of knowledge I know from ten years of songwriting, and ten years of knowing myself on this intricate level. Writing music for me is a cathartic experience, but releasing it, letting it exist as an independent piece of media distanced from my own personal projections is a freeing experience. To share the work I make is my biggest dream, and I continue to do this online, and through as many live performances as I get the privilege to play. Once I complete the course of my degree in Liberal Arts at Sarah Lawrence College, I will stride towards the workforce with lots of possibility. A liberal arts degree is quite the opposite of narrowing or restricting. But, I do have desired paths and directions in mind. To save up for school I work full time when I am home as a preschool teacher. Working with kids has ignited a new and very clear passion for me. It is a very important responsibility of mine to show up for the kids I teach when they need me. I know that one way I can continue to do this after leaving college would be introducing music, the thing that saved me as a young child, into the lives of other children. Children who may have been like me. Children who may need an escape from their home life, from the things that make them afraid. It is the hope dearest to my heart that I can make an impact on at least one child. An impact that allows them to feel joy, safety, and security. Receiving this scholarship would not only ease some of my financial burden, but allow me to chase my dreams more comfortably.

As a student at Sarah Lawrence college the trajectory of my studies is a little more broad than some. Mostly though, I have focused my studies on women's rights, political activism and creating and writing music. These areas of study pique my interest mostly due to my own identity and creative interests. I am a singer/songwriter who writes mostly about my experience as a teenage girl, a queer teenage girl. I knew I was queer when I was six years old and wrote in a composition notebook, "boys love girls and girls love boys." I knew I was afraid of this fact when I heard my eight year old neighbor use the term, "that's gay" negatively on the school bus. I knew I could fully accept myself at 18, when I went to a largely queer college that allowed me to become who i always knew I was. I didn't grow up in a necessarily liberal town. Queer people who were out were on occasion followed to their cars after school. Queer people were singled out by teachers in public discussion. Queer people were tokenized by those who claimed to support them. It was exhausting to attempt to be out in such an aggressive environment. All of my best friends are queer. It's a joke I often make that I genuinely cannot find a friend who'a both cis and straight. The bonds I have developed with the queer people in my life are so deep and important to me. Not simply because they understand my queer identity, but because being queer in itself is a subculture, a community, and a ground for understanding one another. My friendships with queer and trans people have defined not only my college experience so far, but my life so far. Starting at the beginning of 2026, I lost communications with my father, and distanced myself from my mother. At this point I moved in with my uncle, and work full time in an attempt to save up semester by semester for school. I have seemed to cut it very close each time and to be granted a scholarship would be life changing for me. It would take a lot of stress off of my plate and allow me to have the privilege of focusing on my studies while I am in school rather than attempting to balance a heavy course load and multiple jobs. A scholarship, even a small amount could fundamentally change everything.

As a singer songwriter, the quality of my life thus far has largely depended on my relationship to the music of others and my own. Creation has been the lens through which I see my world, and my medium of choice is music. Writing lyrics, creating melodies, and experimenting with chords is what has created my identity. The most important piece of my connection to music so far has been my relationship with the musical community surrounding me. As I grew into an awkward and shy teenager, I found a community within which I could flourish, and this was the music scene in upstate New York. Whether it was my friend with whom I shared a musical hobby with sitting on the floor with me in the hallway outside our choir classroom, the friend I made through performing, or the radio host who has become a mentor figure to me, music has built the community I depend on today. Music is a language through which I can feel understood, and finally, feel heard. At age fifteen I released my first song. It was a love song, one that was brutally honest, perhaps a little too outlandish and embarrassing for everyone to resonate with during its release. Despite this, I pursued my vision in releasing this track and was met with mixed responses from my peers. Speculation surrounded my song, from who it was about to if I had intended for it to become an embarrassing game of Guess Who Skylar's In Love With. I felt stupid. Truly stupid. Until, I found people who wouldn't let me think that. The musicians I grew to surround myself with supported my music without knowing a single tidbit of my life, or the gossip surrounding it. I began to play shows routinely, where strangers could hear my songs and create an audience around it. This experience hit its peak for me when I met a young woman in the audience of a show I was playing at a coffee shop who sent me a DM shortly after thanking me for playing, and for being honest. Music is not only my form of creation but my purest, most honest form of myself. My most honest opinions, thoughts, and feelings reside in the music I create. My most embarrassing facets of myself are present most in my music, whether I want that to be showcased or not. I've learned that part of life is becoming uncomfortable. Or rather, becoming okay with being uncomfortable. Sometimes that feeling of discomfort, that fear of being honest, isn't actually a bad thing. All writers want the opportunity to write something real. Sometimes what resonates most is what we are most afraid of. Music has helped me find myself. And I can only hope that my music can do that for someone else someday.

Through every phase of my life songwriting has been the only outlet I have had that allows me to truly see myself. Writing a song creates a place where I can tap into the best and worst experiences of not only my life, but the lives of others. My lyrics and melodies paint a picture of my thoughts and feelings I wouldn’t recognize otherwise. As a songwriter who enjoys sharing my music both online and in real life it almost goes without saying that several storylines were created about the contents of my songs. Some were simple high school rumors, others were comments from strangers. There was a point where I began to struggle to separate my perception and views of myself from the perception others had created. I began to feel shame instead of relief when writing, and I began to write from a place of insecurity. When I look back on this time I see a girl who simply hadn’t found herself yet. Despite a severe case of writer's block I eventually built up the confidence to start going to open mics again, and began to perform in local events. In a reality where everything felt doomed I suddenly found community, and even built connections with those in the local music scene. As the saying goes, time had healed what it needed to, and despite my pangs of embarrassment I continued to share my music. This was not out of enjoyment, but out of necessity. Sharing my insecurities didn’t amplify them, but rather let them out of my head. When a lyric was shared it wasn’t just mine anymore. My lyrics could become the audience's as well. It was a collective of joy, pain, and heartbreak. I now know that sharing my art was never about the response it would receive though, but rather the joy of community, the catharsis of shared experience, and the excitement of performance. It pains me to say that there was a time where songwriting felt like something I couldn’t connect with anymore, and even a childhood dream not worth pursuing. But through every success and failure songwriting has made me who I am. At times being so vulnerable felt like a major character flaw, but my vulnerability has only created opportunities. Creation for me isn’t just a choice or a hobby I can pick up or drop at any time, but rather, a necessity. It builds and adds to every aspect of my life despite its drawbacks. There is no better feeling than realizing that my words do matter, and that they can resonate with people. And through every backlash, negative comment, or wrong perception I know that I will always have music to fall back on, and a creation to share in the meantime.

As a singer-songwriter in the Capital Region of New York State, I have been afforded multiple opportunities and have become quite engaged with the local community. I've been writing and creating since I was only eight years old and have continued pursuing this interest for the past ten years. Due to my passion, I've performed in multiple small shows, gained a small online following, have had my music played on radio stations and have created a name for myself in my community as an artist and as a musician. Now, as a college student I am studying music, creative writing, and psychology at Sarah Lawrence College, and writing for the school Newspaper, melding all of my interests together into one education. From a young age, I found myself drawn to the emotional release and the power and strength I found in putting my thoughts into words, chords, and melodies. It encapsulated my awkward middle school years and my messy high school years. My art continues to capture each stage of life I find myself in, now helping to define and establish my adolescence, and help me make sense of who I am and who I am becoming. As I reach the last year of my teenage-hood, I have found that a goal for myself is to release an EP (an Extended Play) of my songs from the past few years that have encapsulated my teenage experience. To do so though, I need to work, and hard. I need to find producers, work with photographers, videographers, journalists, radio hosts, and collaborators. I need to take my art to the next level and create a more professional platform for myself. This means, I have to invest in my interests on a serious level, and as a college student that can prove to be difficult when I have other expenses to worry about. As someone who is both pursuing a music career and studying music, I would find it incredibly beneficial to receive this scholarship both for my educational goals to study music and improve my musical skills, but also to create as a young artist and develop a musical portfolio that will be beneficial in later years. Art, music especially, is the most important aspect of who I am and who I will become. To create, and learn to create like the greats is all I could humbly ask for. This scholarship would not only greatly help my life, but help my career and education.