I’ve been drawn toward filmmaking as an art because of the feeling I get when I recognize pieces of myself in a character. There have been many communities where representation is severely lacking and I’d be honored to be part of the change to diversify film. Even though I want to add my own diversity to the screen, I would be careful not to overstep boundaries as a white person. I made a promise to myself to challenge my beliefs from my background and uplift the voices of people who are more educated on certain topics than I am, helping behind the scenes to make sure those stories are told. The first step toward that goal is to obtain my Bachelor’s Degree in an environment where my creativity can thrive. I’d love to continue my education and work with others who are excited to create something brand new together. Hollywood, for example, has been notorious for keeping a certain structure known to be successful. We are only at the beginning of having powerful women, people of color, and queer leading roles. During my time in community college, I was fairly limited in certain resources due to the COVID-19 pandemic. I know the world extends far beyond what I’ve seen and what I’ve accomplished thus far.

Bugsy came into my life when I was a freshman in high school. He was a few months old, a bit too skinny, and had eyes that appeared to pop out of his head. Bugsy is as loyal of a companion dog as any. He gets extremely depressed when I go away for a day, loving to have all his humans with him in the house at all times. When I’m working on my laptop, he likes to make things difficult by nudging it over until he has my undivided attention. Most people don’t get to see the affectionate side of my dog. Since we got him when he was a few months old already, we didn’t get the opportunity to socialize him right away. He hates men. Men in hats especially. I don’t like to think too hard about the reason why this might have happened. It makes me too upset. Going on walks with him during the busiest time of day has taught me an extreme amount of patience. I’m glad my family adopted Bugsy, because if we didn’t, he might’ve entered a family that doesn’t love him as much as we do. They might not have tolerated all his barking at strangers. They could’ve sent him to a shelter once they saw how much work he was. Thanks to Bugsy, I’ve learned a lot about unconditional love and the lengths I would go to for his safety and comfort.

Someone close to me once said that I romanticize the idea of passion. I was upset and confused at the time, trying to figure out how some people seem to know exactly what they want out of life. Goals on paper never meant anything to me. Not when I knew they were baseless, conjured up on the spot to satisfy whoever was asking for them. It certainly wasn’t for my own benefit. I’ve often found myself fantasizing over being extremely good at a singular style of art. Being good at one thing would mean that I could be the best, fully immersed, as I lose track of time to my craft. Despite this fantasy, I continuously shove myself in multiple places, extending my interest when I’m in the mood for it or see a desperate need. I’ve always been fond of photography, enjoyed film, found myself helping small businesses make websites, dabbled in painting for fun, and gone through phases where I convinced myself I wanted to find a remote cabin to become a writer. The conversation I had with my friend about passion (or lack thereof) led to a singular conclusion between the two of us: No matter how indecisive, I always gravitate towards the arts. Usually, people are proud of being well-rounded. Especially creatively. It’s a great way to fill up the empty space on a resume. I ask myself if I’m spread too thin. If being simply okay at a handful of things makes me mediocre by default when I could pick one subject and excel at it. Every Wednesday, I sit on a video call with my therapist to discuss the issues that are most pressing in my life. I’ve been avoiding this particular problem for months. Years even, long before I found Christina. I tell her that I’ve been looking at different schools to transfer to and she seems pleasantly surprised by my willingness to discuss it. Eventually, I bring up the personal statement. Most days I don’t know who I am. It hurts. "Write it anyway," my therapist tells me. You think it’s stupid and I’m sure they don’t get students writing about how stupid personal statements are all that often. We laugh about it. But there’s still fear inside of me. Not seeming good enough, passionate enough, or coming off as rude for being unable to express how I feel. When encouraged to show off my skills, hiding the things that I lack, guilt consumes me. I won’t try to conjure up an idealized version of myself and pretend it’s real. I have many faults, but I can get good grades. I’m perfectionistic and rarely satisfied in my work. I’m looking for ways to improve despite the imposter syndrome lurking behind me. In my experience, passion is a silly word easily lost between fits of doubt. Despite this, I am human, and destined to keep reaching.

A friend of mine jokingly calls me Sand. I don't know where that nickname came from, in all honesty, but it stuck. She also compares me to a cat. Slow to give affection away, extremely quiet when I want to be. After a few years of this, I decided to create little drawings of Sand the Cat.

Someone close to me once said that I romanticize the idea of passion. I was upset and confused at the time, trying to figure out how some people seem to know exactly what they want out of life. Goals on paper never meant anything to me. Not when I knew they were baseless, conjured up on the spot to satisfy whoever was asking for them. I’ve often found myself fantasizing over being extremely good at a singular style of art. Being good at one thing would mean that I could be the best, fully immersed, as I lose track of time to my craft. Despite this fantasy, I continuously shove myself in multiple places, extending my interest when I’m in the mood for it or see a desperate need. I’m fond of photography, enjoy film, find myself helping small businesses design websites, dabble in painting for fun, and go through phases where I convince myself I want to find a remote cabin to become a writer. Usually, people are proud of being well-rounded. Especially creatively. It’s a great way to fill up the empty space on a resume. I ask myself if I’m spread too thin. If being simply okay at a handful of things makes me mediocre by default when I could pick one subject and excel at it. Drifting through middle and high school, even my first few years of college, I wouldn’t have ever described myself as passionate about anything besides the occasional interest in celebrities or musicians. Do I enjoy photography? Yes, of course I do. But would I say I was passionate enough to do it all day, every day, without the fear of failure or a bad mark? The conversation I had with my friend about passion (or lack thereof) led to a singular conclusion between the two of us; no matter how indecisive, I always gravitate towards the arts. When I graduated high school, I knew that sticking to cameras was my best bet. It was the only thing I was even remotely interested in. After a discussion with my counselor, I decided to major in Cinema/Video production at Bucks County Community College. The world of filmmaking seemed fascinating and I’d never had the opportunity to seek it out. The COVID-19 pandemic hit during my spring semester of my freshman year. I reached the lowest point ever in my anxiety that I had already been struggling with for years, causing panic attacks when I entered public spaces. I spent the majority of the pandemic in my home, same as most others, and grew accustomed to getting most of my social interactions through FaceTime and Zoom calls. When I look back at the peak of the pandemic, it’s conflicting when it comes to my personal growth. I gained the opportunity to join a club for the first time since starting college. With every social event being held over Zoom, it helped put some of my social anxiety at ease. Seeing people behind a screen made it seem so much less daunting. Somehow, I managed to revive a previously inactive film club and become president. Unfortunately, it wasn’t until restrictions were lifted that I realized how bad my headspace actually was. There was no way I could go back to school in person, let alone transfer somewhere that was totally unfamiliar. After obtaining my Associates Degree in May 2021, I fully intended to transfer to Temple University. When the time came to enroll, I avoided it at all costs. Throughout the past year, I’ve been working through therapy, starting medication, and steadily exposing myself to situations I was uncomfortable with. I’ve entered a place where I want to further my education. Life feels immensely better now that I’m actually trying to go out and live. The growth I’ve experienced in such a short few months has astounded me, but I still face setbacks from time to time. Every Wednesday, I sit on a video call with my therapist to discuss the issues that are most pressing in my life. I’ve been avoiding this particular problem for months. Years even, long before I found Christina. I tell her that I’ve been looking at different schools to transfer to and she seems pleasantly surprised by my willingness to discuss it. I bring up the personal statement. Not all colleges require it, but two of the ones I’m applying to do. Most days I don’t know who I am. It hurts. "Write it anyway," my therapist tells me. "You think it’s stupid and I’m sure they don’t get students writing about how stupid personal statements are all that often." We laugh about it. But there’s still fear inside of me. When encouraged to show off my skills, hiding the things that I lack, guilt consumes me. I won’t try to conjure up an idealized version of myself and pretend it’s real. I have many faults, but I’m good at getting good grades. I’m perfectionistic and rarely satisfied in my work. I’m making the conscious decision to keep searching for passion wherever I can find it. It doesn’t matter if it’s fleeting, or lacking in substance. In my experience, passion is a silly word easily lost between fits of doubt. Despite this, I am human, and destined to keep reaching. If all else fails, at the least I’ve found a knack for trying. I refuse to go back to feeling mediocre.

After obtaining my Associates Degree in Cinema/Video Production from Bucks County Community College in May 2021, I intended to transfer to complete my Bachelor's. When the time came, I realized that I was not ready. The COVID-19 pandemic worsened the anxiety that I had already been struggling with for years, causing anxiety attacks when I entered public spaces. I spent the majority of the pandemic in my home, same as most others, and grew accustomed to getting most of my social interactions through FaceTime and Zoom calls. Throughout the past year, I’ve been working through therapy, starting medication, and steadily exposing myself to situations I was uncomfortable with. Now, I’m at a place where I actively want to further my education. I’d like to explore my options as a student, learning more about what I can do in a classroom setting surrounded by other students with similar interests. I have so much more to learn about the outside world as well as myself. I’m broadening my horizons, hoping to graduate with little debt so I can pursue a career I am truly passionate about. This past week, I visited two colleges and I'm planning on seeing a third very soon. Two out of three colleges that I've been accepted to are out of state. While this may not seem like a big accomplishment, I'm currently living the most bold life I've ever been exposed to. The future doesn't seem as scary as before. I am bold for no longer letting my anxiety hold me back. I am brave for embracing the uncomfortable.