All my life I've only lived with my mother. Since I could coo and babble, and since she was 19, she pursued biology in college and went into the biotech industry. She gave me my first book on human anatomy when I was about six years old. Ever since, I've adored the idea of the development of treatments that could someday help others. When I was very little, I've always been a helper. I had aspirations to be a zookeeper, in fact, and now that I have learned more, I want to be the person who could potentially save a life. With biotechnology, I could develop a medicine that could change the trajectory of a person just like my mother or I, and hopefully inspire others to pursue selflessness like we do.

Throughout my life, I've been many things - a gymnast, a Chinese folk dancer, a rock climber, a jiu-jitsu wrestler, a ballerina, and a basketball player, but one thing I fell in love with was cheerleading. I joined my high school's cheer team in my junior year. I felt behind, and that's an understatement. On one of my first practices on the team, I forgot a hair tie. I turn to the girl on my right and I ask the question every girl asks once in their life, "Do you have a hair tie?". She kindly hands me the black elastic that's around her wrist, tells me to keep it, and I thank her. The next day, I was sitting against the wall watching the team's stunts when I heard the question yet again, “Do you have a hair elastic?” But this time, it was directed at me. I handed the girl the elastic given to me yesterday and I smiled a little bit and got into my stunt group. That day was the day I got to know two of my closest friends whom I still see at practice all the time. Cheer has taught me two things about the importance of sisterhood in a sport. I have learned so much in the short amount of time I have been a part of the most wonderful group of girls I know. Putting my hair up in elastics reminds me of the endless amount of hair ties I would give away to know the kindest, most giving, most welcoming people I will ever meet. It reminds me of the girl who first gave me her elastic, such a small favor but something I associate with my favorite place to be. Her act of kindness reminds me of the stunt I first jumped in, the cheers I would shout, the nights at the football games, lifting my flyers, hitting my head on the mat when I tumble and hearing the gym fill with laughter, everything that makes cheer not just the mat, but home. My ponytail has taught me that there is sisterhood everywhere, not just in cheer. Tying my hair back makes me think of solidarity. It makes me think of gratitude, the canned food drives I contribute to, sorting through the clothes I donate, my grandparents whom I take care of, my relatives I babysit, and how thankful I feel that when I am doing something helpful, I am making a difference. I aspire to make a difference in sisterhoods someday in my pursuit of biology and to hopefully change a life for the better. The second thing I learned in cheer is to never forget an extra hair elastic. You never know when another girl will need one.

I grew up in the heart of Boston - half of the time. The other half was spent during the school days, but on the weekends I would take the 40-minute commute, sometimes an hour on the bus, to get past the nice old security guard who waved to me every Saturday morning, greet the old men playing chess in the plaza, stroll past the morning tai-chi ladies, and say hi to my friends playing in the park. I would go up the creaky old elevator to the fifth floor of the apartment complex my grandmother lived in. The nights in that apartment were spent playing pretend with the big cardboard boxes I would paint green to make a forest den and my little stuffed animals as little creatures. I imagined I lived in a little cave just like I would read about in the National Geographic kid's magazines and dreamed of someday exploring the uncharted wilderness, seeing real wild animals, and experiencing what it was like out in the forest. When I was six years old, I left Boston for the first time and my family rented out a little cabin by the lake in Vermont where I got to feel what it was really like to be out in nature. It was my first time in Vermont and I truly did fall in love with what there was to offer. Everything about the outdoors pulled me in; I felt magnetized by the beauty of nature and I began to realize how much I missed out on being surrounded by steel buildings, drab pavements, and bustling streets. In the city you hear noise, ubiquitous sounds that drone on no matter how high up in an apartment complex you go or how far from the four-lane urban streets you live away from. But in Vermont, I loved the presence of soft noise - the rustling of leaves, the lapping of soft ripples on the lake, the bees humming quietly. There never was any silence in either of these places, but in Vermont, I felt like I could finally be at peace. When I got back home, I taught myself how to garden at home, which was a task in itself given how my backyard was a wimpy patch of grass and some asphalt. But I would set up the little pots of herbs, propagating my herbs to grow more and to teach myself more about the biology behind it all - how plants respirate, the competition benefits between certain species, everything botany was a short obsession of mine. Now I am an aspiring biologist with a still growing passion to grow more as a person and as a plant-lover.

It was a Friday night, on the eve of the blood moon, in my head I spoke "I would stay forever." I look to my left, our cheer captain starts the chant, and we all fall in line. It was our last game of the season, the last time we would all cheer together at a high school football game. So many of Taylor's songs speak to me, but one in particular from her re-released 1989 album on this particular evening hit harder than the others. "Say Don't Go (Taylor's Version) [From The Vault]." While the lyrics at face value may be interpreted as a break-up, break-ups of all kinds happen through this journey in life: boyfriends, girlfriends, friends, hanging up your pom poms at the end of a season and saying good-bye to the people you grew up with at graduation. I remember it "all too well" that night, taking it all in so I could relive that moment over and over again. I've memorized the sounds of the crowd chanting, the players yelling, and most of us all 27 of us screaming, our poms rustling as my player scored the first touchdown of the last home game. Now that the night is over, I resonate with the quiet lines of Taylor Swift: "Now your silence has me screamin'". It fills me with an emptiness I can't describe, knowing that this was our last night together as a team, wishing for more time together and "holding out hope for you to say, 'Don't go'." Now as I look at the poster that my friends made in my honor, I long for the feeling of exhilaration one more time, to see the scoreboard light up on the "home" side again. Those little numbers on the other side of the field determined everything that night, the moment when the whole student section could run down to the field to congratulate our football players. Just like Swift, I felt myself "hold my breath a little bit longer." Though this "was the end of a decade", it is "the start of an age." I'm truly grateful for the days I've dedicated to challenging myself, putting myself out there, and never giving up, and the forever friends I've made. I'm glad to have experienced this life. I'll take these memories, life lessons, and Taylor soundtracks with me to the next chapter in my life.

My favorite song from Taylor Swift's "1989" is Style because of the skillful usage of language in Swift's lyricism. I enjoy how she used descriptors of modern-day slang with references to older eras. Her first word on the track "Midnight" made me realize the significance that time has in her songs and therefore the stories she gets across to the listener. The word has connections to her latest album as a very emotional time for her but also one where she draws great strengths regarding her musical talent. Midnight is about more than her songs but connects to her life as well. "Style" is about one of her ex-partners, and connects to her theme of talking about her old relationships and how they have impacted her today. She isn't shy or subtle with the lyricism, either, as the direct allusion to Harry Styles is very prominent when she says "You got that long hair, slicked back, white t-shirt" directly describing him in detail, even naming him by saying "We never go out of style". "1989" was one of her first albums out of the transition to becoming a pop artist when she was once fitting the ideal of the "Girl Next Door" country artist and traditional, rather conservative demeanor. Her lyricism in "Style" represents this contradicting persona of hers when she describes herself as having "that good girl faith and a tight little skirt". From a casual listening perspective, story-telling from Swift's viewpoint is easy to visualize because she is very descriptive with scenes that have potentially occurred in her life. It makes one wonder if these events did take place or not, creating even further depth and incentive to listen. It also makes the listener wonder if there are easter eggs within her lyrics, certain secrets that she doesn't outwardly reveal to the public but is a secret between her and her most diehard fans. After hearing the lyrics "...you've been out and about with some other girl, some other girl", it makes the listener even more engrossed in what Swift has to say about her story with Styles. The dramatic lyricism connects perfectly with the production of the music as well as it creates an even more dynamic listening experience. Aside from the lyrics, the music production is incredibly catchy and easily recognizable. Her music is incredibly entertaining to listen to and sing along to, but in my opinion, "Style" by Taylor Swift tops any other song on the album "1989".

Being the daughter of a single mother, who gave birth to me at 18 (just one year older than I am today), I learned from a firsthand perspective that working hard is the most essential part of accomplishing your dreams. It is the basis of the American Dream, the standard of living in society today, and the norm for achieving true success, no matter how that is defined by the person. For me, success means the feeling of accomplishment more than anything else. To feel successful would be to be able to go to college with as few student loans as possible and to feel as free and able to pursue what I love in the future someday. Although I am not certain of my goals quite yet, I am sure that I would go to great lengths to pursue what I want to do. I consider myself a greatly devoted and determined person. Being a cheerleader for my school helped me realize that working hard is the definition of success, and even though our abilities may not be the best in the nation, not even the state, I know that I feel so beyond grateful for my team, and even more proud that we accomplished more than we ever thought we could. I learned that being a part of something, like the newspaper club at my school, makes me feel a sense of family and a strong sense of achievement whenever we publish an article that receives good feedback, or host an event that becomes popular. Feeling devotion towards something you unapologetically love is the most pure and strong emotion one can ever feel, and the best way to achieve that feeling is through working hard for what you truly desire.