I like to call this story “Orange You Glad You Weren’t Late?” It was the kind of morning where my alarm clock gave up on me. (Or more likely I gave up on my alarm clock) I showed up late to the orange grove, hair is absolutely wild, my shirt backwards, and I literally had barely enough time to grab my gloves before heading out to trim trees with the rest of the crew. Now, let’s get something straight okay. I’m not what one could call a necessarily graceful eater. I could bite into a sandwich and wear it like a beard. Oranges are little juicy grenades that explode on contact. My face turns bright orange like a toddler in a cheezit factory. Okay back to the story, I was trimming branches and sweating like a sinner in church when I saw IT. An orange. You might be thinking “Trevor you are in an orange grove, I would HOPE you see oranges” It wasn't like the rest. It was so Perfect. Round. GLOWING. It was begging for someone to notice it kind of like a puppy in a dog pound. Without a second thought, of course I grabbed that citrusy masterpiece. But when I chomped in (peel and all) it was unusually Bitter. And then I heard it. “YO TREVORRR!!!” I slowly turned around. Mid Chew. My lips and chin absolutely slick with juice. Standing there was my boss. Pale. Silent. Eyes locked on my face like I had turned purple. “We… we just sprayed the grove… with pesticides… like… a lot of pesticides…” I blinked. And then chewed. And then froze. Chewed some more. Swallowed, (I had committed to the bite it was too late) “oh” I said “That's kind of Zesty”. The guys turned to me, all in horror. One guy dropped his pruning shears. I just stood there (juice still running down my chin). I felt oddly powerful. Like I had stared death in the face - and EATEN it. I was hence known as having the “Toxic Tongue." Moral of the story? Don’t be late. And if you so happen to be then maybe don’t eat the first thing you see. Especially if it has an odd glow.

The world is loud. Sometimes days blur as the rush of expectation, movement, and change takes over. Friends tend to drift, plans crumble. Emotions rise and fall like unpredictable graphs. But in the midst of it all, I find calm in math. A quiet place where logic never lies and constants stay the same. Pi - Endless, irrational, yet ever dependable. It shows up, every time, the same way. No matter how big the circle, how complex the equation, pi is there - unchanging, eternal. In a life full of variables, there is something sacred about that. I think of one’s life and math almost as mirrors. A yin and a yang. One filled with feeling, constant uncertainty, and vibrant colors. Structure, balance, and truth built on the other. But they don’t compete with each other. In fact they complete each other. Life teaches me to feel. Math teaches me to think. But together they make me whole. The way math shows up everywhere carries a gentle and unspoken beauty. Whether it's in the spiral of a sunflower, the rhythm of music, or the architecture of a cathedral, it's there. I love it not because it’s perfect, because as an ancient Greek Philosopher Aristotle taught nothing is perfect in the absolute sense. But I love it because it teaches me how to make sense of the imperfect. Some people love math because they’re good at it. I love it because it reminds me that even the most complicated problems have solutions. Sometimes messy, sometimes elegant, but always possible. That mindset changed me. When things go wrong, when life throws unknowns my way, I approach it like an equation. Identify the givens. Isolate the variable. Work the steps. Try again. Math has become more than a subject to me in that way. It has become almost a way of living.

I was always the small, skinny kid who loved the idea of football more than the reality of it. While the bigger, stronger kids dominated the field, I was on the sidelines. Always hoping to one day wear that varsity jersey. I dreamed of being part of something bigger than myself. That something I would come to find out demanded raw discipline, strength, and teamwork. I carried a feeling that I was too far from that dream to make it reality. Then came Remember the Titans. This movie didn’t just inspire me in the typical way; it shattered my excuses I was internalizing and forced me to look at myself in a different light. The characters weren’t born into greatness, just like I was not born into size or speed. They had to fight for every inch of it. The struggles they faced were raw and real. On and off the field. I came to recognize something in their journey that resonated deeply with me. Like the Titans, I wasn’t going to be handed anything; I would have to work harder, dig deeper, and face my own internal battles if I ever wanted to be more than just a spectator in my own life. That night, I didn’t just watch the film; I felt it in my bones. I discovered through the cinematic storytelling of this high school football Cinderella story, that my lack of size wasn’t a dead end. This was only my starting point, and I made a decision. I would put in the work, no matter the obstacles, no matter the odds, no matter others perceptions. Coach Boone taught it doesn’t matter where you start, as long as you fight for every yard. I wasn’t going to be the undersized kid anymore. I was going to be the kid who fought. Who fought For every yard. My long and equally grueling journey began by changing my lifestyle completely. I immersed myself in everything I could find about nutrition, training, and physical growth. Calculating calories, pushing myself in weightlifting, and eating enough to fuel the growth my body desperately needed became an obsession. It was painful as the results were not immediate. I had days where I doubted everything coupled with nights I wanted to quit. Resonating in my skinny soul where Coach Boone's words that “real change doesn’t come from wishing”. No, it comes from effort, perseverance, and most of all, ultimate commitment. Over the next year, my body transformed as I miraculously gained 80 pounds. No shortcuts, no cheating. Every meal, every workout, every doubt was a step closer to proving to myself that I could do it. The pain became part of the process, and with each small victory, I could feel myself getting closer to the version of me I’d always dreamed of. I stepped onto the field on the day of tryouts, leaving my old self behind no longer feeling small or weak. I was ready. Even when the odds seemed impossible. And finally, after sleepless nights, painful workouts, and countless moments of self-doubt, I made the team. It wasn’t just a victory over my physical limitations. Yet it was a victory over the excuses that held myself back for so long. I wasn’t the small, skinny kid anymore. I was a player who had earned his place, fought for every yard, and proved that no dream is too big if you’re willing to put in the work. Just like Coach Boone’s Titans, I learned that true success comes from pushing yourself beyond your limits. And fighting for every yard.

Having grown up in a society where meat is the foundation of every meal, for years I never questioned the norm. As was everyone, I was always told that animal products were necessary for strength, that protein meant meat, and that fueling my body as an athlete playing multiple sports required the suffering of other living, growing and thriving beings. This view I have now come to resent, changed a few years back during a necessary time of deep self reflection, I delved deeper into nutrition and human physiology, and I realized that these ideas were not only outdated but harmful. It causes harm not only to our health, but more importantly to the world and precious animals around us. Transitioning to a vegan lifestyle wasn’t just about securing the optimization of my own multi-sport athletic performance; it became my own moral as well as scientific mission to challenge a corrupt system that slaughters billions of innocent animals each year, depletes our environment, and prioritizes profit over well-being. As I shifted my diet and conducted my own research, the benefits of plant based living became undeniable. My recovery times shortened, my endurance improved, and I felt lighter, stronger, and more energized by this nutrient and guilt free diet. But beyond my own personal performance, my own self awareness increased of the ethical and environmental consequences of a meat-centered society. I came to understand not only the Athletic benefits, but of the factory farms that kill innocent animals by the billions, inhumanely pumping them full of antibiotics and keeping them in horrific condition. The more I learned, the more I realized that what look like simple choices as individuals—what we put on our plates, how we fuel our bodies—have the innate power to drive systemic change. I started small, using my own experiences to spark conversations. I shared my findings with teammates, discussing plant based protein alternatives and recovery enhancing foods. I conducted elaborate experiments on myself and others. Doing this in order to track the effects of a vegan diet on inflammation markers, muscle recovery, and endurance. I started conversations with coaches and athletes who had long believed that strength and meat were inseparable. The results spoke for themselves. Those who tried even small shifts in their diet felt the difference. The more people saw proof of my personal athletic accomplishments, the more they listened. But my mission doesn’t stop at the gym, the football field, or the basketball court. I want to take this movement beyond my own personal health and into the broader fight for a more ethical, sustainable world. By pursuing a degree in nutrition, sports science, or public health, I aim to research and advocate for plant-based nutrition in athletic and medical communities, the same communities that are stuck in the meat centered past. I want to challenge the outdated dietary recommendations that continue to prioritize animal products despite overwhelming evidence of their harm. My desire burns to reshape how our society views nutrition. As not a choice between performance and ethics, but a path where both thrive together. Ultimately, this isn’t just about me. It’s about dismantling a broken food system. It's about helping prove that we can fuel our bodies without exploiting animals, which could shift an entire culture toward a more compassionate, healthier future. If athletes, the peoples’ pinnacle of strength in society's eyes —can thrive on plants, then what excuse is left? Through research, advocacy, and real-world application, I want to be a part of the movement that finally proves that a better world is possible. And It starts on our plates.