Buried within the research of the NSA, an exploit had been found. Within the massive library of the Windows architecture, a singular protocol called SMB had a vulnerability that allowed hackers to execute code remotely on any computer with the SMB port open. This would allow anyone with knowledge of this exploit to have complete control of any computer that used the built-in SMB (Server Message Block) port, commonly used to transfer files between computers and servers. Instead of notifying Microsoft about the vulnerability, the NSA kept it to themselves, hoping to use it as a secret defense against future cyberattacks, Codename: EternalBlue. That was until the exploit was leaked, where malicious hackers could gain this powerful knowledge. The NSA tried its best to control the potential attacks, notifying Microsoft, who promptly released an urgent update patching the vulnerability. But that didn’t matter; millions of computers without automatic updates remained vulnerable. On May 12, 2016, WannaCry spread across the internet. WannaCry was a virus, but it wasn’t just any other virus. It encrypted every file on your computer, locking you away from them, and demanded thousands of dollars in BitCoin in exchange for freeing your information. Hundreds of thousands of crucial systems went down, ranging from hospital databases to bank facilities, forced to pay this ransom to gain their essential customer information. WannaCry was estimated to cause about 4 billion dollars in damages. The worst part; the perpetrator was never found. I was in the 6th grade when I learned of this virus, intrigued by the massive storyline encompassing this singular threat. From the specific vector the virus exploited to how the virus spread, I wanted to learn all about this topic. I was already interested in technology, using computers in my everyday life. Rather than how computers were made, my interest shifted to the vast field of cybersecurity. A constant battle where one side is trying to out-innovate the other. I began my cybersecurity journey, learning various topics such as virtual forensics, network security, and cyberattack defending. However, these topics seemed quite distant, as I was still determining how to apply them to an everyday job. In my junior year, I was fortunate enough to have my class visited by a Cybersecurity expert who worked for the FBI. In that meeting, the FBI Agent discussed the ins and outs of the job, along with a specific example of his work. He detailed a recent case they had just solved, where people were stealing people’s airline loyalty rewards accounts to sell them to the highest bidder. These accounts could then claim free flights, which left innocent flyers out of their hard-earned bonus miles. It was at that meeting that I realized how relevant my field was. Millions of dollars are being stolen daily from senior citizens’ bank accounts, to hundreds of thousands of dollars in damages to mega-corporations. My goal is to contribute to the overall cybersecurity field and to potentially stop the next WannaCry.

Being the new kid seemed like a perpetual title gifted to me. Even as a kid, I was shifted into different environments and forced to adapt. I grew up in low-income apartments in Los Angeles, but my parents cared heavily about my education. As the elementary school days began to wrap up, my friends were excited and relieved that we would be going to the same middle school. However, my parents found a STEM Magnet school that promised top-of-the-line education and generational support for students. I was lucky enough to pass the entrance exam, and so from the age of 11 I said goodbye to the friends I had spent my entire childhood with. This new school was so much different than what I had expected. Everyone was focused on school, and I was no longer ahead of my peers. I learned how to study and reach out for help, and I met new friends that allowed me to collaborate on schoolwork. However, during 7th grade, my parents decided they had enough of LA. They wanted to get out of the dangerous environment we were living in, and tried to give us a better life. Because of this, we moved to Orange County. It was a much safer environment but yet again, I had to say goodbye to those I held close to me. This new school was very different, it was more laid back than the extreme academics I was used to, but there still were plenty of smart students and teachers. It's at this point I think I really was able to work with people with distinctly different backgrounds. At my old middle school, you would kind of see the same type of person. Majority were Asian, like me, came from upper-middle or straight upper-class families, prioritized studying, was interested in video games, programming, and engineering, and wanted to go to an Ivy League College. While I could relate to them on some fronts, not only did other parts irk me in the wrong way, but it was also not good for my relational skills to just be surrounded by the same type of people. At this new middle school, I was friends with people of different ethnicities, economic backgrounds, regions, and philosophies. I learned to get along with people who didn't have the same life views as me, and became best friends with some. Finally, the start of covid happened during the end of my 8th grade year. Schools panicked as the second half of that year became a complete blur. I entered high school online, and while my best friends I had made went to different high schools, I was still surrounded with some people I was already familiar with. Despite the difficulties of interacting online with new people, I built a friend group from people I had met in Zoom classes, and we shared many common interests and goals. It seemed almost too perfect; We had the same music taste, college majors, interests, philosophies, hobbies, and such. Academically, I struggled to adapt to high school especially during covid, but I knew at least I had good friends. However, my parents decided to move to Texas, after getting sick of California, and receiving a job offer here. This was my hardest transition, going into a new high school as a sophomore, not knowing anyone while everyone at this high school knew each other since childhood. Thankfully I still found friends, and after a while I realized that all the hardships and changes I went through ultimately shaped who I am, and I wouldn't change a thing.

When I first stumbled across Bojack Horseman, it seemed like it was everything I hated about TV shows. Another Adult Comedy series that was animated to look like it was a kids show, with crude jokes and all wrapped with the utilization of animals acting like and with humans like some rated R Zootopia spinoff. And as I started to watch it after having to recommended, my views were sort of affirmed. Bojack Horseman is this giant douche, a once-famous Hollywood celebrity who spends his time drinking alcohol, doing drugs, or searching for meaningless relationships. He's self-centered, lacks the common ability to respect other people's opinions, and he's sexist. However, the show was surprisingly well-written, and I laughed quite a few times, so I marched on. Various characters are introduced and we are given reasons on to why we should care about them. Soon, I realized I was on season 4, and I was completely wrong about the show. It isn't some shallow gag-reel that just looks for a quick laugh and nothing more. Complex topics are covered by the show, such as feminism in Hollywood, depression, generational trauma, and drug reliance. It's one of my favorite aspects of good comedy TV series, like The Office or Friends. You take these "stereotypical" characters, and then you attach narratives, give them a backstory, and interconnect them to make them feel so real, and as the audience it's hard not to get attached, all while laughing at the running gags the show presents. It's true, Bojack is a self-conceited jerk. But he's also a complex character, who suffered from generational trauma, extreme neglect and abuse as a child, and he truly does want to change. Does he? Well I'm still wrapping the 5th season up, so we'll see. His friend, Todd Chavez, is a stereotypical comic relief character. He has no job, lives at Bojacks house, and every now and then goes on his patented "Todd Adventures", which often takes the plot of episodes. But deep down, Todd is someone who was never told he could achieve anything, he's a bright individual who's ideas are often discarded as jokes, and who struggles with his own problems. By far the best character and episode that represents Bojack Horseman's exceptional writing is that of Beatrice Horseman, Bojack's mother, in Times Arrow (S4 E11). See, the entire series prior to this season we are fed that Bojack's mother is exactly why Bojack clicks the way he does. His mother constantly neglects him as a child, tells him that she wishes she had never had him, and takes every chance to tell Bojack what a failure he is. Every bad thing Bojack has done, some of it could be attributed to his horrible childhood. A father that was never there, and a mother who was even worse, it's no wonder why Bojack fell into this spiral of seeking worldly affection. But in this episode, we are given so much context into Beatrice's life that ultimately leaves the audience in a state of shock. The most evil character in this show about people who abuse their power, was ultimately shown to be more than that. Its hard to not go deeper without talking about major spoilers, but this show really proved my thoughs wrong. It's witty, its deep, and its laugh-out-loud hilarious. And the animation style, I realized that these complex topics paired with comedic plots could not be portrayed with humans. When portrayed as animals, it helps tame the issues, ironically humanizing taboo issues that people would normally avoid talking about. It become my favorite show.