I am going to change the world. This I write with stalwart unmitigated certainty. This I write with arduous desperation. This I write with love.
I am an empath. Whether the culprit be chance or fate, I cannot say, but my biography consists of innumerable experiences with the same result: increased ability to truly relate to all people. Spending my childhood in an isolated tourist town of 1000 residents, then living in one of the biggest and most rapidly developing cities in America from age 13 on allowed me to see the highlights and hardships of both lifestyles. My parents’ ever-changing relationship has given me the opportunity to live in a picture-perfect two-parent home, two homes directly across the street from each other with one parent living in each, a single-parent home with a father living six hours away, and everything in between. I experienced the conveniences of a swollen family bank account and then was abruptly humbled when it all disappeared. Watching my mother struggle with fibromyalgia among umpteen other “invisible diseases” has showed me what it feels like to be helpless. Doctors cannot fix everything. These along with daily conflicts and realizations have expanded my understanding of human nature, motivations, and reactions.
I am a philanthropist. In my heart, there is no greater accomplishment than busting through all the self-doubt, worry, and fear that cements itself onto the faces of so many today. I know, with indubitable conviction, that there is no such thing as a bad person. Life has taught me that people never just do bad things. Sherlock Holmes himself could examine every prison, every confessional, every nook and cranny of hell and would still come up dry in a search of a hurtful act with no reason behind it. No one deserves pain, and although suffering plants the essential roots for personal growth, an unimaginable portion of hardship felt by humans today is unnecessary. Here lies my role.
Yesterday, too many people starved to death in poverty. Today, too many children woke up in the hospital with an incurable illness. Tomorrow, too much intolerance will cause too many suicides. As humans, we create the conditions that allow for such adversity, and as humans, we solely hold the power and responsibility to abolish them. I am a warrior in this endeavor. Each word I speak is a battle cry.
I am an ally. Last week, one of my best male friends appeared on my doorstep in a tempest of helpless sobs. Unable to pull an explanation from his lips, I guided him into my room and held him. I held him tight and close in silence for over an hour, praying that his mind and trembling body would soon find peace. After the eye of the storm passed, I learned the tension in his household over his homosexuality had finally reached a boiling point, and he no longer felt safe at home. His intolerant mother has attempted to beat the abnormality out of him with relentless verbal abuse and threats since the embarkation of his homosexuality. With college approaching, she raised the pressure to an unbearable level, driving her own son out of the house. Honored that he took refuge in me, I gladly pushed an extra twin mattress onto the floor of my miniscule bedroom where he has slept since. Though we clearly lack the space and money to comfortably support a third resident in our one bathroom house, my mother and I have welcomed him into our family with open arms and continually stand behind him in all his legal and personal battles to gain independence from his terrorizing mother. No one, especially at eighteen years old, should feel unsafe, or even unaccepted, at home. No matter the circumstances, I always have and always will do everything in my power to abet those around me and all over the world.
I can. At the age of thirteen my brain was thrust into the midst of a fatal and rapidly progressing disease that almost took my life. Three years, three hospitalizations, one heart surgery, two treatments and thousands of intensive therapy sessions later, I obtained full physical and psychological remission from anorexia nervosa. I now see those three years as the biggest blessing I’ve received. At eighteen years old, I have already beheld the rewiring of brain pathways first-hand. Survival forced me to obtain more control over my brain, and therefore myself, than many adults. Witnessing such a psychological phenomenon lit an endless spark of inspiration inside me. If a teenage girl can learn how to reinvent her brain function, what else can the human mind do? I began to research even bigger mental and spiritual breakthroughs and came to the astonishing realization that Disney classics aren’t full of lies. The human really can do anything he sets his mind to. I can change the world, so I plan on it.
Disney has managed to weave one other remarkably accurate theme within it’s magic: love conquers all. Humans are subject to various physical, emotional, and societal hindrances everyday, but not one of these obstacles limit our capacity to love. And through love, for oneself as well as for others, we reach unleash infinite potential. I have seized this potential with white knuckles and am prepared to hold on come hell or high water. I am going to change the world.
Sunday, December 19, 2010
Sunday, October 3, 2010
College Essay #1: Stage Fright
Please, any constructive criticism would be greatly appreciated. How can I improve it? Will this make me stand out?
Freshman year I auditioned for my first large Musical Theatre Production and discovered an extremely unexpected obstacle: stage fright. I soared through the acting and dancing portions of the audition and expected to do the same at the vocal audition. This was a very false expectation. I stepped out onto the stage into the single spotlight and answered the questions that floated to me from two invisible directors seated somewhere in the black abyss before me. I nodded to the accompanist in the wings. The moment the music began, an unfamiliar feeling began to boil inside my stomach. It instantly seized my entire body and I began to violently tremble. I desperately struggled to override this unexpected explosion of stage fright, but knew I’d met defeat when I opened my mouth. Instead of releasing the bold, theatrical voice that came so easily with hairbrush in hand in front of my bathroom mirror, all that my mouth could produce was a squeaky sob that immediately triggered streaming tears. The half comforting, half alarmed voice of the drama director spoke, “You’re ok Taylor. Just take a deep breath and start again.” Apparently he did not hear the screeching and rattling that was echoing in my head, nor could he see the giant boulder that dropped into my stomach. The accompanist began again. This time, my feet took action. They swiveled me toward the exit and sloppily carried my off stage in a fit of sobs and gasps.
What happened? I was so confused and humiliated. First the first time in my 12 years on stage, I failed. I failed. I choked. I did everything but break a leg. In junior high, I had performed solo numbers 3 operettas with more confidence then Idina Menzel herself. I had just taken the lead in the school drama three months earlier as a freshman having never seen a real theater production before. So where did this come from? Why did singing onstage suddenly become an impossibly terrifying task?
Upon reflection I can say that it was mostly likely a combination of several factors relating to the transition from the miniscule tourist town to a school twice it’s size. Never before had sung in front on some one I didn’t know, or for a crowd of more than 100 people. I had never gone to a real audition, but was always handed the roles because options were so minimal. Never had I stood in front of experienced, talented people who had every right in the world to tell me I was not good enough. The dancing and acting auditions I was able to go through with the other competitors. If a scene fell apart, it was the ensemble’s failure, not one of the actors’. If the choreography got off beat no one was able to identify who messed up first, we just started over. But at that moment, I stood alone. I was completely alone in the spotlight, asking to be studied, judged, and critiqued on my execution of something, I suddenly realized, I knew nothing about. I couldn’t do it. My sense of self crashed and burned over the following 24 hours.
I had fallen, but was not down for long. I loved performing and was not about to let stage fright stop me from continuing. More than that though, the experience began to generate excitement. Fear, something I was relatively unfamiliar with, quickly turned into motivation. Failure challenged my self-esteem, and I refused to let it bar me from success and happiness. Remarkably, my name appeared on the ensemble cast list, but that made no difference to me. There was no doubt in my mind that I could get past this new obstacle; I just had to figure out how. I resorted to a concept I learned from A.A. Milne, my favorite childhood author: if you fear it, face it. If I feared singing, then I needed to sing all the time.
Some health complications took me out of school very soon after the audition so I was forced to put the endeavor on hold until I returned to classes in late May. First thing I did upon my return, I edited my sophomore year schedule and signed up for freshman choir. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
Fall quickly came around bringing daily singing in front of strangers, multiple embarrassing squeaks, cracks and shrieks, and plenty humble pie. Six months later, I found myself on the same dreaded stage as my audition with a huge smile singing my first choral solo. I had done it. I had overcome the stage fright that rendered me speechless the year before. That was not all I did though. In the process, I discovered the amazing world of classical music and fell in love.
At the end of the year I went through two weeks of auditions and was accepted into Concert Choir as the first student at Southridge High School to skip Women’s Choir and transfer directly to Concert Choir. I also received admission into the Advanced Vocal Ensemble (Avance) which is a four-part choir consisting of the top 20 singers in the school who rehearse at 6:45 a.m. before school. In the spring of my junior year I declared a Vocal Performance Career Academy (Southridge’s version of college majors) and began individual training in opera. A couple months later, I performed an aria and District Solo and Ensemble Contest, receiving a one, the highest score possible.
Yes, I still get stage fright, but I still walk into that spotlight and take the microphone no with fear, just excitement. The failure of that first audition taught me much more than how to overcome stage fright. It taught me that life gives you challenges for a reason. If I had not had such a traumatic experience, I would have never signed up for choir and missed out on countless memories and experiences in high school. Classical music has taken hold of my heart and brought me more joy and growth then I could have ever imagined. I’ve made lifelong friends, learned heaps about myself, and found something that brings me relief and peace no matter what else is going on in my life.
Now when I get scared, or run into to obstacles and challenges, no matter how big or small, I immediately dive head first into them with no hesitation, because I know that I will get something positive out of it, even if there is pain and struggle involved. What the audition taught me has held true in every aspect of my life and shaped me into be who I am today: a successful, outgoing achiever who pushes personal limits and faces every hurdle with excitement and gratitude for what it will bring her.
Freshman year I auditioned for my first large Musical Theatre Production and discovered an extremely unexpected obstacle: stage fright. I soared through the acting and dancing portions of the audition and expected to do the same at the vocal audition. This was a very false expectation. I stepped out onto the stage into the single spotlight and answered the questions that floated to me from two invisible directors seated somewhere in the black abyss before me. I nodded to the accompanist in the wings. The moment the music began, an unfamiliar feeling began to boil inside my stomach. It instantly seized my entire body and I began to violently tremble. I desperately struggled to override this unexpected explosion of stage fright, but knew I’d met defeat when I opened my mouth. Instead of releasing the bold, theatrical voice that came so easily with hairbrush in hand in front of my bathroom mirror, all that my mouth could produce was a squeaky sob that immediately triggered streaming tears. The half comforting, half alarmed voice of the drama director spoke, “You’re ok Taylor. Just take a deep breath and start again.” Apparently he did not hear the screeching and rattling that was echoing in my head, nor could he see the giant boulder that dropped into my stomach. The accompanist began again. This time, my feet took action. They swiveled me toward the exit and sloppily carried my off stage in a fit of sobs and gasps.
What happened? I was so confused and humiliated. First the first time in my 12 years on stage, I failed. I failed. I choked. I did everything but break a leg. In junior high, I had performed solo numbers 3 operettas with more confidence then Idina Menzel herself. I had just taken the lead in the school drama three months earlier as a freshman having never seen a real theater production before. So where did this come from? Why did singing onstage suddenly become an impossibly terrifying task?
Upon reflection I can say that it was mostly likely a combination of several factors relating to the transition from the miniscule tourist town to a school twice it’s size. Never before had sung in front on some one I didn’t know, or for a crowd of more than 100 people. I had never gone to a real audition, but was always handed the roles because options were so minimal. Never had I stood in front of experienced, talented people who had every right in the world to tell me I was not good enough. The dancing and acting auditions I was able to go through with the other competitors. If a scene fell apart, it was the ensemble’s failure, not one of the actors’. If the choreography got off beat no one was able to identify who messed up first, we just started over. But at that moment, I stood alone. I was completely alone in the spotlight, asking to be studied, judged, and critiqued on my execution of something, I suddenly realized, I knew nothing about. I couldn’t do it. My sense of self crashed and burned over the following 24 hours.
I had fallen, but was not down for long. I loved performing and was not about to let stage fright stop me from continuing. More than that though, the experience began to generate excitement. Fear, something I was relatively unfamiliar with, quickly turned into motivation. Failure challenged my self-esteem, and I refused to let it bar me from success and happiness. Remarkably, my name appeared on the ensemble cast list, but that made no difference to me. There was no doubt in my mind that I could get past this new obstacle; I just had to figure out how. I resorted to a concept I learned from A.A. Milne, my favorite childhood author: if you fear it, face it. If I feared singing, then I needed to sing all the time.
Some health complications took me out of school very soon after the audition so I was forced to put the endeavor on hold until I returned to classes in late May. First thing I did upon my return, I edited my sophomore year schedule and signed up for freshman choir. It was one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.
Fall quickly came around bringing daily singing in front of strangers, multiple embarrassing squeaks, cracks and shrieks, and plenty humble pie. Six months later, I found myself on the same dreaded stage as my audition with a huge smile singing my first choral solo. I had done it. I had overcome the stage fright that rendered me speechless the year before. That was not all I did though. In the process, I discovered the amazing world of classical music and fell in love.
At the end of the year I went through two weeks of auditions and was accepted into Concert Choir as the first student at Southridge High School to skip Women’s Choir and transfer directly to Concert Choir. I also received admission into the Advanced Vocal Ensemble (Avance) which is a four-part choir consisting of the top 20 singers in the school who rehearse at 6:45 a.m. before school. In the spring of my junior year I declared a Vocal Performance Career Academy (Southridge’s version of college majors) and began individual training in opera. A couple months later, I performed an aria and District Solo and Ensemble Contest, receiving a one, the highest score possible.
Yes, I still get stage fright, but I still walk into that spotlight and take the microphone no with fear, just excitement. The failure of that first audition taught me much more than how to overcome stage fright. It taught me that life gives you challenges for a reason. If I had not had such a traumatic experience, I would have never signed up for choir and missed out on countless memories and experiences in high school. Classical music has taken hold of my heart and brought me more joy and growth then I could have ever imagined. I’ve made lifelong friends, learned heaps about myself, and found something that brings me relief and peace no matter what else is going on in my life.
Now when I get scared, or run into to obstacles and challenges, no matter how big or small, I immediately dive head first into them with no hesitation, because I know that I will get something positive out of it, even if there is pain and struggle involved. What the audition taught me has held true in every aspect of my life and shaped me into be who I am today: a successful, outgoing achiever who pushes personal limits and faces every hurdle with excitement and gratitude for what it will bring her.
Friday, October 1, 2010
Canned Pumpkin Pie Mix for Breakfast
So here's the story. I have a little rat terrier who eats lots and lots of canned pumpkin, so there are always Costco boxes of canned pumpkin in our pantry. At some point, however, a box of canned pumpkin pie mix made it into the house due to some one's obvious lack of attention to their purchase, so now there are 16 cans of pumpkin pie mix in my pantry. There's no way those cans will ever disappear unless I do something about them. So I did something.
This morning in my mad rush to get food into my empty stomach, I cracked open a can of the mix and grabbed a spoon. If I don't say so myself, it was quite the ingenious idea. After consuming half the can, I had the million dollar idea of pumpkin yogurt. While planning my letter to Brown Cow about how they must start a new seasonal flavor, I decided to make sure my assumption that it would rock was accurate. Thus, I took a carton of Vanilla Brown Cow yogurt and dumped it into the half empty can and stirred. That idea may have been even more full of unbelievable culinary insight than the first.
So now I'm addicted and would like to share it with the world. Eat pumpkin pie mix for breakfast: it'll make you're day ten times better.
Thursday, August 5, 2010
Epic Fail
échouer. 失敗する. fallar. How ever you want to put it, keeping this blog updated was a major fail. Thus, I give you attempt #2. I know. What the hell could have possibly gotten in the way of my blogging right? I wasn't attacked by an emu or saving a village of eskimos or anything heroic like that. However, I was learning a ridiculously massive amount of life lessons, which had to happen at some point or another I guess. I will use a list of things I've learned to sum up my experience of the past month.
1. Having 3 jobs is not as dandy of an idea as it sounds.
2. A lot of stupid people shop at Nordstrom.
3. Never bring a panini from Starbucks into a greek cafe and expect to come out alive.
4. Love actually is a bitch.
5. So are really good saleswomen.
6. When told that according to the dress code, you are only allowed to wear tennis shoes if they are Coach, don't reply with "Well throw me that sharpie and I'll draw some C's on them."
7. Socks with soccer slides is strictly a Northwest thing.
8. Digital bubble wrap is a necessity to my existence.
9. Jennifer's Body with your best friend at 3 in the morning is the best kind of therapy.
10. Old people always tell the truth-especially the delusional ones.
Thursday, June 17, 2010
Hello Summer
It's here. The infamous, sweat-producing, skin-cancer causing, body-image-killing 3 months we love and I don't know that this sun-burn-prone workaholic has ever quite appreciated the coming of summer vacation quite as much as she does right now, and I'm pretty sure she's more pumped about it than any one in the history of man-kind. Why is this summer so special you ask? It's not. The freedom was WAY past due. Granted, I am a teenager so by definition I'm supposed to hate school. However, being the social butterfly that I am and an undercover math nerd as well, school is usually the place where I thrive. Unfortunately for the past two months this has not been the case. Here's why:
1. Boredom- teachers have been so unorganized and lazy lately that I find myself sitting in class and doing nothing for 75% of the day.
2. Fatigue- do you really expect a highschooler to be at school at 6:45 am for a period zero advanced choir class and be functional after an hour?
3. Attitude- for some stupid reason I decided that maybe I should try complaining about all the things that bug me instead of my usual everything-is-rainbows-and-butterflies mindset: coincidentally at the exact same time my life became living hell and the I. Q. of every one around me dropped about 2000 points (which kind of killed my motivation to socialize)
The first 2 components to this dissatisfaction are things of the past. This third phenomena however, is quite the setback. I have decided that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to mirror those around me. It just doesn't work for me. So that is going to end right away, and this is how I'm going to do it:
1. Stop using negative words- hate, waste, useless, boring
2. Compliment as many people a day as I can remember to-that always makes me feel great!
3. Pull my head out of my ass- Life rocks. Get over yourself Taylor.
So here I go, jumping head on into the thrills of summer before my senior year and smiling bigger than ever while doing it! Here is my plan for starting:
1. Sleep for about 4 days straight.
2. Make model poses in the mirror in my bikini and pretend I'm in a Seventeen photo shoot for the summer kick-off issue.
3. Make fruit salad.
Goal of the week: Schedule exactly when I need to have each IB English summer reading novel completed in order to avoid shooting myself in the head after the quiz on the first day of school in september.
P.S. So I have some accountability for when I decide that I am going to change the curriculum to encompass living authors: Harry Potter is NOT an IB English novel.
Monday, June 7, 2010
The Bucket List
In my leadership class, we spent a day making a "Bucket List." For those of you who have not seen the movie or don't know how to use Urban Dictionary, a Bucket List is a list of things to do before you get a visit from the creeper in the black cloak carrying a giant gardening tool. I had a lot of fun making it and decided that I might as well start knocking things off it now. One of the items scribble onto the list was "create a blog and use it for at least 6 months." Being a spawn of the space era, I am as tech savvy as any other 17 year old so I'm no where near unfamiliar to social networking (although I can proudly declare that I have never played Farmville), However, blogging never made it into my array of homework procrastination techniques. If the Bucket List says it must be so, then it must be so, thus hear I am writing today! Below is the current version of the alleged list, but a presume that it will be the first of numerous drafts to come.
1. Create a blog and keep it for at least 6 months
2. Learn to hacky sack
3. Publish a book
4. Go to Paris
5. Explore an abandoned house
6. Audition for at least 3 professional plays/movies/series
7. Create a charity clothing line
8. Fly in a commercial airplane
9. Go into an Adult Store
10. Go in a wind/zero gravity chamber.
I would LOVE some suggestions and ideas, but I will not add skydiving to it. I have nothing against skydiving but that would just be the epitome of cliche. Also I have a nasty habit of trusting just about any one so if you say I should try it, then I most likely will go for it.
Ready, set, IDEAS!
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