I've performed in theatre productions since I was in third grade and by the time I reached my senior year of high school, I'd realized that this was no longer simply a hobby for me; not to be dramatic (though I am a theatre kid, so who could blame me?), but theatre became a calling in my life. After a lengthy audition process, I was accepted into The American Musical and Dramatic Academy in New York where I would study musical theatre. This laughter-loving, gentle goof upended her mellow life to abide by the 21st century mantra of "chasing your dreams". As a native Oregonian who lived on five acres of lush, tree-flooded land with her family, the move to the city was a shock to my system, to say the least. Grandiose fir trees turned to the bland efficiency of sky-scrapers, family dinners switched to family phone calls, and twenty minute drives in the old minivan transitioned to twenty minute rides on the Subway. I'd be lying if I said it was easy. It hurt my soul to leave the cornerstones of my life behind—as someone who viciously chases what she believes she should do, who controls whatever she can, there was an odd paradox in my new "city life". I'd taken the bull by the horns, so to speak, and had pursued what I wanted to, but the city pried my sense of control from my grasping fingertips. If I hadn't learned to take everything with a sense of humor, I think the transition would have been significantly harder. Fortunately, through past work experiences, I'd learned the necessary practice of medicating myself through laughter. Prior to my New York move, I worked full time for about five months as a caregiver for a senior living center to save up some money for school. I didn't go into the job blindly, but I don't think I'd been fully prepared either for what I was getting myself into. Not to divulge too much information, but helping others with activities of daily living meant frequent interactions with bodily fluids of all imaginable kinds. One of our residents had frequent bathroom issues, if you follow my meaning, and she always apologized profusely for the resulting messes. To say it was overwhelming the first few times would be an understatement but gradually I learned to dissociate myself from the worst of it and to embrace the hilarity of the situation. The frequency of these issues shifted from being an annoyance to being something I found insanely funny. As I sat there scrubbing and cleaning and taking care of the resident, I giggled and laughed with her and I eventually realized I almost enjoyed the chance to spend consolidated time with her while joking about the ridiculous extent of the mess. Who knew I'd need to scrub the baseboards to clean it up this time? On my last day at work, I started to cry when I said goodbye to that resident. The bonding power of laughter had not only lightened the work load but deepened our relationship. This practice of searching for the silly side in every issue prepared me to handle the amusing chaos of the subway and the embarrassment of learning to dance with no previous experience. I used to struggle playing comedic roles, but after playing characters like Audrey in Little Shop of Horrors, I realized the beauty of optimistic humor both on and off the stage. I hope to continue pursuing theatre and bringing light to the lives of other's through stories in the same way I've been affected.