When I told the older woman that I worked with at the Fort Hunter Mansion, Molly, about how I was going to Penn State for Anthropology, she smiled and asked me what I was planning to do in the future with it. It was a hazy afternoon on the Mansions porch and I guessed she wanted to pass the time with idle chatter. So as the wind blew at our faces the Susquehanna river ran by us, I told her about my fascination with cultures around the world. Molly listened as I rambled on about all my interests, how I liked to draw, mostly of people. And then she mentioned how I could try painting sometime, of the scenery in front of us. I had laughed then, saying I honestly found scenery boring though it was stunning to look at. Molly rocked in her chair on the patio, seemingly thinking of a solution. The gift shop sold cards with the images of graceful Victorian era women, so Molly suggested I could try designing a card for the shop. I was surprised but inspired by the idea. I kept it in the back of my head, sifting through possibilities as we continued to enjoy the weather during the lull in business. Later I would doodle a stout woman in a feather hat and corset on the back of a paper slip that Molly would hang up behind the register with a little "wow!" on it. I never did create a proper drawing for a card in the next few months I had left with her. Molly would pass away in March of 2022. And the loss hit me in a way I seemingly did not want to comprehend. My time with her in the Mansion would span 8 hour days with just the two of us and guests passing through. She would offer to make coffee, bring me a scarf that she'd drape over my shoulders whenever I felt cold, and Molly always had this smile that entailed that you and her were in on a secret that no one else knew. It was a kindness I had not experienced in a while. And it was a warmth that taught me for the first time the depth that a relationship could reach. She gave her support without second thought and never spared a chance to offer a genuine comment on how she believed I could "do it". I don't think I will ever meet anyone like her again, to feel as safe and loved as I had. It may be a pessimistic thought, but I have decided that if that is the case, I should take her as an example and treat others with that unwavering kindness. As I continue my education in Anthropology, I will continue to put effort in making sure my artwork reflects the beauty of history and cultures around the world. Whether it be at the local level like the Fort Hunter Mansion or on a global level, I am dedicated to educating and connecting people through art in this fast changing world, inspired by my friend Molly, may she rest in peace.

During my Fall semester of 2021 and into Spring 2022, I had experienced the death of a friend. For the first time, I have to mourn the loss of someone I had cared about and new personally, worked with every week for hours, told stories, laughed at little inside jokes, and shared cups of coffee in the cold winter months. She was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in December, and she had unfortunately passed away in March. I was devastated. I had no one to discuss the pain with. I still had a rigorous academic curriculum to think about and two jobs to keep on top of. So I tried to push everything off to the side, or really deep down enough that I could "forget" and move on. I was incapable of doing so, the feelings creeping in a way where I lost the ability to focus, slept for hours and still woke up exhausted, and crying my self to sleep at times, wishing she was still here , just to have her warm company. By February, before her death, I actually had a Tachycardia attack in class along with arrhythmia that sent me to the hospital. I was terrified when it was happening, it was an odd feeling of my heart crashing into my ribs while I had no control over it. An out of body experience almost. The following months was me visiting doctors, from the family Physician to Cardiologists, all the way to a Hematologist. Most gave very dull answers, that my heart rate was obviously higher than normal even at resting with palpitations, but that if I didn't experience another episode of what happened in class, I was okay. PSVT was what I was diagnosed. After attending her funeral, I had come to a certain understanding. Yes, her being gone from my life was still extremely painful, but she had moved to a different stage of life where she no longer felt the pain of her cancer. So I tried to make peace with that. Slowly, I tried to make an effort toward what I was doing in my life to try to alleviate the heart issues I had developed from the pain. I cut down on caffeine since it raised my heart rate, I tried to be physically active at work by running and walking more. I tried to get back into drawing. And when I could, I tried to talk about how I felt. If there was one thing for sure, holding in my feelings was a huge factor in my health. It has been a couple months since, and my health has continued to improve for the better. What I have learned from the experience is that the mind is intertwined with the body, and to foolish think that there is no connection will leave you sick with little to no answers from doctors. Taking care of your self is balance of both physical and mental health, and I strive to remind my self of it every day and to educate others when I can so that they can avoid, or at least minimize, pain similar to that I have felt.

We are growing more connected as a society, coming into contact with ways of life we have never met before, and we ourselves are living in ways others might be confused by. Growing up as a Moroccan- American Muslim immigrant, I met classmates from countries like Trinidad, Cambodia, and Hungary. I was excited to tell them about myself and just as fascinated to learn how unique and similar we actually were. I think my fascination comes from a desire to understand and be understood in return. Since my youth, I have been reading books on different cultures and religions, visiting museums, and watching documentaries to become well versed in the human experience. I have now dedicated myself to studying Anthropology to educate the coming generation on how similar we all are, and to most importantly respect the differences around us. In the meantime, I have gained experience by being a docent at the Fort Hunter Mansion, giving guided tours of the mansion to people who visit both locally and from around the world. Though it was challenging at first to speak to strangers for hour-long tours, I have quickly learned how to be confident and let my enthusiasm reach the guests to get them engaged. I have even been given the opportunity to work with grade school children who come to Fort Hunter on field trips on the Native American program. As long as I am given the ability to continue moving forward, I have full intention to keep educating the youth so that the future has a chance to be able to work together in understanding and kindness.

It is quite easy to go through the struggles of furthering your education and grow bitter. It almost feels as if some secret, nebulous thing in the universe is working against you. Yet despite having to go through it all, in the end I find myself feeling blessed. I am aware that I am blessed to experience the privilege of trying to pursue a Bachelors in Anthropology. There is something to learn from every trial and tribulation that has helped me mature as a person and grown to empathize with those around me. Of all the challenges I had to face, there are two in particular that have stuck with me, and they are intertwined; the death of my friend and my heart condition. During my Fall semester of 2021 and into Spring 2022, I had experienced the death of a friend. For the first time, I had to mourn the loss of someone I had cared about and knew personally, worked with every week for hours, told stories, laughed at little inside jokes, and shared cups of coffee in the cold winter months. Her name was Molly. She was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in December, and she had unfortunately passed away in March. I was devastated. I had no one to discuss the pain with. I still had a rigorous academic curriculum to think about and two jobs to keep on top of. So I tried to push everything off to the side, or really deep down enough that I could "forget" and move on. I was incapable of doing so, the feelings creeping in a way where I lost the ability to focus, slept for hours and still woke up exhausted, and cried myself to sleep at times, wishing she was still here, just to have her warm company. By February, before her death, I actually had a Tachycardia attack in class along with arrhythmia that sent me to the hospital. I was terrified when it was happening, it was an odd feeling of my heart crashing into my ribs while I had no control over it. An out of body experience almost. PSVT was what I was diagnosed with, and little else was said about it. After attending her funeral, I had come to a certain understanding. Yes, her being gone from my life was still extremely painful, but she had moved to a different stage of life where she no longer felt the pain of her cancer. So I tried to make peace with that. Slowly, I tried to make an effort toward what I was doing in my life to try to alleviate the heart issues I had developed from the pain. I don't think I will ever meet anyone like her again, to feel as safe and loved as I had. It may be a pessimistic thought, but I have decided that if that is the case, I should take her as an example and treat others with that unwavering kindness. As I continue my education in Anthropology, I will continue to put effort in making sure my work reflects her thoughtfulness, making the time we are blessed with count.

One of the best things an individual can do to combat climate change is to refrain from support fast fashion businesses. The speed at which the clothes are produced and sold create a toxic and wasteful environment, from the materials used to produce it to the quickly evolving trends that find the outdated items later found in trash bins and waste lands. The fast fashion industry is designed to fulfill a fleeting need for consumption, so none of the items made were built to last on you. But the materials used are non biodegradable, being made from synthetic fibers. In fact, 92 millions tons of fast fashion are found in landfills, and the industry produces 2 to 4% of global emissions. I avoid purchasing any fast fashion, and instead try to purchase well made clothes from local businesses that I can wear time and time again. It is a simple action, but it impacts the direction in which climate change is headed.

We are growing more connected as a society, coming into contact with ways of life we have never met before, and we ourselves are living in ways others might be confused by. Growing up as a Moroccan- American Muslim immigrant, I met classmates from countries like Trinidad, Cambodia, and Hungary. I was excited to tell them about myself and just as fascinated to learn how unique and similar we actually were. I think my fascination comes from a desire to understand and be understood in return. Since my youth, I have been reading books on different cultures and religions, visiting museums, and watching documentaries to become well versed in the human experience. I have now dedicated myself to studying Anthropology to educate the coming generation on how similar we all are, and to most importantly respect the differences around us. In the meantime, I have gained experience by being a docent at the Fort Hunter Mansion, giving guided tours of the mansion to people who visit both locally and from around the world. Though it was challenging at first to speak to strangers for hour-long tours, I have quickly learned how to be confident and let my enthusiasm reach the guests to get them engaged. I have even been given the opportunity to work with grade school children who come to Fort Hunter on field trips on the Native American program. As long as I am given the ability to continue moving forward, I have full intention to keep educating the youth so that the future has a chance to be able to work together in understanding and kindness.

It is quite easy to go through the struggles of furthering your education and grow bitter. It almost feels as if some secret, nebulous thing in the universe is working against you. Yet despite having to go through it all, in the end I find myself feeling blessed. I am aware that I am blessed to experience the privilege of trying to pursue a Bachelors in Anthropology. There is something to learn from every trial and tribulation that has helped me mature as a person and grown to empathize with those around me. Of all the challenges I had to face, there are two in particular that have stuck with me, and they are intertwined; the death of my friend and my heart condition. During my Fall semester of 2021 and into Spring 2022, I had experienced the death of a friend. For the first time, I had to mourn the loss of someone I had cared about and knew personally, worked with every week for hours, told stories, laughed at little inside jokes, and shared cups of coffee in the cold winter months. Her name was Molly. She was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in December, and she had unfortunately passed away in March. I was devastated. I had no one to discuss the pain with. I still had a rigorous academic curriculum to think about and two jobs to keep on top of. So I tried to push everything off to the side, or really deep down enough that I could "forget" and move on. I was incapable of doing so, the feelings creeping in a way where I lost the ability to focus, slept for hours and still woke up exhausted, and cried myself to sleep at times, wishing she was still here, just to have her warm company. By February, before her death, I actually had a Tachycardia attack in class along with arrhythmia that sent me to the hospital. I was terrified when it was happening, it was an odd feeling of my heart crashing into my ribs while I had no control over it. An out of body experience almost. PSVT was what I was diagnosed with, and little else was said about it. After attending her funeral, I had come to a certain understanding. Yes, her being gone from my life was still extremely painful, but she had moved to a different stage of life where she no longer felt the pain of her cancer. So I tried to make peace with that. Slowly, I tried to make an effort toward what I was doing in my life to try to alleviate the heart issues I had developed from the pain. I don't think I will ever meet anyone like her again, to feel as safe and loved as I had. It may be a pessimistic thought, but I have decided that if that is the case, I should take her as an example and treat others with that unwavering kindness. As I continue my education in Anthropology, I will continue to put effort in making sure my work reflects her thoughtfulness, making the time we are blessed with count.

It is quite easy to go through the struggles of furthering your education and grow bitter. It almost feels as if some secret, nebulous thing in the universe is working against you. Yet despite having to go through it all, in the end I find myself feeling blessed. I am aware that I am blessed to experience the privilege of trying to pursue a Bachelors in Anthropology. There is something to learn from every trial and tribulation that has helped me mature as a person and grown to empathize with those around me. Of all the challenges I had to face, there are two in particular that have stuck with me, and they are intertwined; the death of my friend and my heart condition. During my Fall semester of 2021 and into Spring 2022, I had experienced the death of a friend. For the first time, I had to mourn the loss of someone I had cared about and knew personally, worked with every week for hours, told stories, laughed at little inside jokes, and shared cups of coffee in the cold winter months. Her name was Molly. She was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in December, and she had unfortunately passed away in March. I was devastated. I had no one to discuss the pain with. I still had a rigorous academic curriculum to think about and two jobs to keep on top of. So I tried to push everything off to the side, or really deep down enough that I could "forget" and move on. I was incapable of doing so, the feelings creeping in a way where I lost the ability to focus, slept for hours and still woke up exhausted, and cried myself to sleep at times, wishing she was still here, just to have her warm company. By February, before her death, I actually had a Tachycardia attack in class along with arrhythmia that sent me to the hospital. I was terrified when it was happening, it was an odd feeling of my heart crashing into my ribs while I had no control over it. An out of body experience almost. PSVT was what I was diagnosed with, and little else was said about it. After attending her funeral, I had come to a certain understanding. Yes, her being gone from my life was still extremely painful, but she had moved to a different stage of life where she no longer felt the pain of her cancer. So I tried to make peace with that. Slowly, I tried to make an effort toward what I was doing in my life to try to alleviate the heart issues I had developed from the pain. I don't think I will ever meet anyone like her again, to feel as safe and loved as I had. It may be a pessimistic thought, but I have decided that if that is the case, I should take her as an example and treat others with that unwavering kindness. As I continue my education in Anthropology, I will continue to put effort in making sure my work reflects her thoughtfulness, making the time we are blessed with count.

It is quite easy to go through the struggles of furthering your education and grow bitter. It almost feels as if some secret, nebulous thing in the universe is working against you. Yet despite having to go through it all, in the end I find myself feeling blessed. I am aware that I am blessed to experience the privilege of trying to pursue a Bachelors in Anthropology. There is something to learn from every trial and tribulation that has helped me mature as a person and empathize with those around me. Of all the challenges I had to face, there are two in particular that have stuck with me, and they are intertwined; the death of my friend and my heart condition. During my Fall semester of 2021 and into Spring 2022, I had experienced the death of a friend. For the first time, I had to mourn the loss of someone I had cared about and knew personally, worked with every week for hours, told stories, laughed at little inside jokes, and shared cups of coffee in the cold winter months. Her name was Molly. She was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in December, and she had unfortunately passed away in March. I was devastated. I had no one to discuss the pain with. I still had a rigorous academic curriculum to think about and two jobs to keep on top of. So I tried to push everything off to the side, or really deep down enough that I could "forget" and move on. I was incapable of doing so, the feelings creeping in a way where I lost the ability to focus, slept for hours and still woke up exhausted, and cried myself to sleep, wishing at times that she was still here to have her warm company. By February, before her death, I actually had a Tachycardia attack in class along with arrhythmia that sent me to the hospital. I was terrified when it was happening, it was an odd feeling of my heart crashing into my ribs while I had no control over it. An out of body experience almost. PSVT was what I was diagnosed with, and little else was said about it. After attending her funeral, I had come to a certain understanding. Yes, her being gone from my life was still extremely painful, but she had moved to a different stage of life where she no longer felt the pain of her cancer. So I tried to make peace with that. Slowly, I tried to make an effort toward what I was doing in my life to try to alleviate the heart issues I had developed from the pain. I don't think I will ever meet anyone like her again, to feel as safe and loved as I had. It may be a pessimistic thought, but I have decided that if that is the case, I should take her as an example and treat others with that unwavering kindness. As I continue my education in Anthropology, I will continue to put effort in making sure my work reflects her thoughtfulness, making the time and opportunities we are blessed with count.

Growing up as a Moroccan- American Muslim immigrant, I met classmates from countries like Trinidad, Cambodia, and Hungary. I was excited to tell them about myself and just as fascinated to learn how unique and similar we actually were. I think my fascination comes from a desire to understand and be understood in return. I have now dedicated myself to studying Anthropology to educate the coming generation on how similar we all are, and to most importantly respect the differences around us.

I have a little soft spot in my heart for Snow White. When I was younger, we had a couple video cassette tapes and the movie Snow White was one of them. When I was bored of playing with my toys, I would put it in to the small black TV in the living room (all my dolls and building blocks still on the floor) and watch her sing with the seven dwarfs to pass the time. I think my favorite scene in the whole movie was when Snow was pulled to dance with the dwarfs stacked on top of each other under a coat. Snow Whites joy was infectious, but I think I enjoyed seeing a princess who looked like me. Her black hair and brown eyes was the closest I was going to get, since all the other ones were blonde. As I've gotten older, I have found much more to relate with; Snows loneliness but boundless compassion despite her struggles, her desire for a simple and comfortable life but maintaining her responsibilities, and adherence to her values. I have went from admiring her in my youth to being inspired to maintain the grace at which Snow White faced in stressful times.

During my Fall semester of 2021 and into Spring 2022, I had experienced the death of a friend. For the first time, I have to mourn the loss of someone I had cared about and new personally, worked with every week for hours, told stories, laughed at little inside jokes, and shared cups of coffee in the cold winter months. She was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer in December, and she had unfortunately passed away in March. I was devastated. I had no one to discuss the pain with. I still had a rigorous academic curriculum to think about and two jobs to keep on top of. So I tried to push everything off to the side, or really deep down enough that I could "forget" and move on. I was incapable of doing so, the feelings creeping in a way where I lost the ability to focus, slept for hours and still woke up exhausted, and crying my self to sleep at times, wishing she was still here , just to have her warm company. By February, before her death, I actually had a Tachycardia attack in class along with arrhythmia that sent me to the hospital. I was terrified when it was happening, it was an odd feeling of my heart crashing into my ribs while I had no control over it. An out of body experience almost. The following months was me visiting doctors, from the family Physician to Cardiologists, all the way to a Hematologist. Most gave very dull answers, that my heart rate was obviously higher than normal even at resting with palpitations, but that if I didn't experience another episode of what happened in class, I was okay. PSVT was what I was diagnosed. After attending her funeral, I had come to a certain understanding. Yes, her being gone from my life was still extremely painful, but she had moved to a different stage of life where she no longer felt the pain of her cancer. So I tried to make peace with that. Slowly, I tried to make an effort toward what I was doing in my life to try to alleviate the heart issues I had developed from the pain. I cut down on caffeine since it raised my heart rate, I tried to be physically active at work by running and walking more. I tried to get back into drawing. And when I could, I tried to talk about how I felt. If there was one thing for sure, holding in my feelings was a huge factor in my health. It has been a couple months since, and my health has continued to improve for the better. What I have learned from the experience is that the mind is intertwined with the body, and to foolish think that there is no connection will leave you sick with little to no answers from doctors. Taking care of your self is balance of both physical and mental health, and I strive to remind my self of it every day and to educate others when I can so that they can avoid, or at least minimize, pain similar to that I have felt.

We are growing more connected as a society, coming into contact with ways of life we have never met before, and we ourselves are living in ways others might be confused by. Growing up as a Moroccan- American Muslim immigrant, I met classmates from countries like Trinidad, Cambodia, and Hungary. I was excited to tell them about myself and just as fascinated to learn how unique and similar we actually were. I think my fascination comes from a desire to understand and be understood in return. Since my youth, I have been reading books on different cultures and religions, visiting museums, and watching documentaries to become well versed in the human experience. I have now dedicated myself to studying Anthropology to educate the coming generation on how similar we all are, and to most importantly respect the differences around us. In the meantime, I have gained experience by being a docent at the Fort Hunter Mansion, giving guided tours of the mansion to people who visit both locally and from around the world. Though it was challenging at first to speak to strangers for hour-long tours, I have quickly learned how to be confident and let my enthusiasm reach the guests to get them engaged. I have even been given the opportunity to work with grade school children who come to Fort Hunter on field trips on the Native American program. As long as I am given the ability to continue moving forward, I have full intention to keep educating the youth so that the future has a chance to be able to work together in understanding and kindness.

There are few paintings that evoke a strong emotion in me and leave me thinking about it even after I have left. The painting by Ilya Repin, 'Ivan The Terrible and His Son Ivan' feels like I literally opened a door to a scene I was not meant to. The shoved carpet and knocked table, the hazy light emitted from the window and the blood on the floor by the weapon all frame the father holding his dead son in his arms. What I find fascinating the ability to "read" the subjects in the painting just from their eyes, no verbal communication. It is what I strive to achieve in my own artwork and portraits, to be able to understand and convey the deepest of emotions through the eyes of a person, to transcend the limits of the verbal word.

There are few paintings that evoke a strong emotion in me and leave me thinking about it even after I have left. The painting by Ilya Repin, 'Ivan The Terrible and His Son Ivan' feels like I literally opened a door to a scene I was not meant to. The shoved carpet and knocked table, the hazy light emitted from the window and the blood on the floor by the weapon all frame the father holding his dead son in his arms. What I find fascinating the ability to "read" the subjects in the painting just from their eyes, no verbal communication. It is what I strive to achieve in my own artwork and portraits, to be able to understand and convey the deepest of emotions through the eyes of a person, to transcend the limits of the verbal word.

When I told the older woman that I worked with at the Fort Hunter Mansion, Molly, about how I was going to Penn State for Anthropology, she smiled and asked me what I was planning to do in the future with it. It was a hazy afternoon on the Mansions porch and I guessed she wanted to pass the time with idle chatter. As the Susquehanna river ran by us, I told her about my fascination with cultures around the world. Molly listened and I rambled on about all my interests. Molly mentioned how I could try painting the scenery in front of us. I had laughed then, insisting that while scenery was was stunning to look at, it wasn't my forte. Molly rocked in her chair on the patio, seemingly thinking of a solution. The gift shop sold cards with the images of graceful Victorian era women, so Molly suggested I could try designing one. I was inspired by the idea. I kept it in the back of my head as we continued to enjoy the weather during the lull in business. Later I would doodle a stout woman in a feather hat and corset on the back of a paper slip that Molly would hang up behind the register with a little "wow!" on it. I never did create a proper drawing for a card in the next few months I had left with her. Molly would pass away in March of 2022. And the loss hit me in a way I did not want to comprehend. My time with her in the Mansion would span 8 hour days with just the two of us and guests passing through. She would offer to make coffee, bring me a scarf that she'd drape over my shoulders whenever I felt cold, and Molly always had this smile that entailed that you and her were in on a secret. It was a kindness I had not experienced in a while. And it was a warmth that taught me for the first time the depth that a relationship could reach. I should take her as an example and treat others with that unwavering kindness. I will continue to put effort in making sure my artwork reflects the beauty of cultures around the world, helping connect people through art in this fast changing world, in memory of Molly.

When I told the older woman that I worked with at the Fort Hunter Mansion, Molly, about how I was going to Penn State for Anthropology, she smiled and asked me what I was planning to do in the future with it. It was a hazy afternoon on the Mansions porch and I guessed she wanted to pass the time with idle chatter. So as the wind blew at our faces the Susquehanna river ran by us, I told her about my fascination with cultures around the world. Molly listened as I rambled on about all my interests, how I liked to draw, mostly of people. And then she mentioned how I could try painting sometime, of the scenery in front of us. I had laughed then, saying I honestly found scenery boring though it was stunning to look at. Molly rocked in her chair on the patio, seemingly thinking of a solution. The gift shop sold cards with the images of graceful Victorian era women, so Molly suggested I could try designing a card for the shop. I was surprised but inspired by the idea. I kept it in the back of my head, sifting through possibilities as we continued to enjoy the weather during the lull in business. Later I would doodle a stout woman in a feather hat and corset on the back of a paper slip that Molly would hang up behind the register with a little "wow!" on it. I never did create a proper drawing for a card in the next few months I had left with her. Molly would pass away in March of 2022. And the loss hit me in a way I seemingly did not want to comprehend. My time with her in the Mansion would span 8 hour days with just the two of us and guests passing through. She would offer to make coffee, bring me a scarf that she'd drape over my shoulders whenever I felt cold, and Molly always had this smile that entailed that you and her were in on a secret that no one else knew. It was a kindness I had not experienced in a while. And it was a warmth that taught me for the first time the depth that a relationship could reach. She gave her support without second thought and never spared a chance to offer a genuine comment on how she believed I could "do it". I don't think I will ever meet anyone like her again, to feel as safe and loved as I had. It may be a pessimistic thought, but I have decided that if that is the case, I should take her as an example and treat others with that unwavering kindness. As I continue my education in Anthropology, I will continue to put effort in making sure my artwork reflects the beauty of history and cultures around the world. Whether it be at the local level like the Fort Hunter Mansion or on a global level, I am dedicated to educating and connecting people through art in this fast changing world, inspired by my friend Molly, may she rest in peace.