Chapter 2: As high school approached, I was in no way ready to confront my artistic side. My parents sent me to a STEM Academy where I excelled, but lost the light I carried; there was no joy in me. I, of course, joined theatre, but my involvement was limited. Again, I had a handful of shows and movies that comforted me as an artist: Into the Woods (I studied The Last Midnight for my entire Freshman year) and The Haunting of Hill House. In no way was high school awful for me, but it was not my happiest moment. Nevertheless, each time I watched or listened to the former works, I would fall in love again and again with performing. I was so smitten with The Haunting of Hill House that I memorized a monologue from it and still recite it to myself to this day. As high school came to a close, I still had a hidden love for theatre, yet found it impractical to pursue. Instead, Psychology seemed as though it was right up my alley.

Chapter 3: Psychology was not up my alley. I made it three days in that department before transferring into the BFA Acting department at UT Arlington. It would be foolish and outright disrespectful for me to disregard the department , and thus, I will always regard it with immense respect. It was there that I finally felt like a performer and fully given the chance to flourish. Through the many deterrents in my life, I had never felt others fully invested in me within theatre as I would have liked. I never felt as though I was given the freedom and liberty to explore myself as a person and, especially, an actor. When I entered UT Arlington, I felt as though I had taken a small step to my artistic persona. I was fortunate to be cast in a mainstage show my Freshman year. Ironically, it was also Romeo and Juliet, and I hold both dear to my heart. I grew to love everyone there, but I knew I needed to find a place to grow outside of the constraints of my home and hometown, which led me to transfer.

Chapter 4: My first semester at UT Austin was nothing short of confusing. I was so used to being directed in my pursuit of my career that the freedoms and liberties enforced here truly confounded me. Nevertheless, I was encouraged to audition by Alison, and since then I have yet to stop moving. I have worked with two MFA playwrights in the completion of their scripts. As a result, I performed in front of the artistic director of the Atlantic Theatre Company (he knew my name for about 30 seconds! Super cool) and a representative for Second Stage. I was in Choreomania 1518, a show that truly pushed me as a performer in both mental and physical endurance. Currently, I am preparing to attend Shakespeare at Winedale with many peers! I am eternally grateful for the growth that I am fortunate to encounter here, and I hope it will continue to open doors for new opportunities for me to explore.

The Fall of the House of Usher, is a limited series on Netflix, written and directed by Mike Flanagan. It is an adaptation of Edgar Allen Poe's novel under the same title. While I'm not certain what drew me into the show--the irredeemable characters, the supernatural element, or simply the beautiful acting--I can confirm that it has forever changed my brain function. I believe I saw it six times over the course of four weeks, and each time, I would still find myself mesmerized. For instance, in episode four, the protagonist stands with an ancient Egyptian blade in front of his skyscraper's windows as he attempts to convince himself to jump out. If he does, his family will be saved. As he's rambling, he bangs the sword on his long, wooden desk. Bang... Bang... Bang... Ba- He is seen standing outside of his daughter's door. Flanagan, someone I aspire to work with has repeatedly created such monumental pieces that I am left in awe each time I watch them, and they will never grow old.

Similarly, Oppenheimer was equally as entrancing, especially the second half. Nolan, another director I pray to work with, has such a beautiful vision for his movies, and he acquired a talented cast to ensure he was successful in procuring its development. I concur, he was successful, especially when Kitty arrived to testify. Emily Blunt's bluntness was a beautifully satisfying transition from the repeated bashing each of Oppenheimer's peers delivered. I find myself repeating her lines when I'm bored or in need of inspiration because it truly livens the memory and excites my body once again to approach what ever I may encounter. Jason Clark performed agonizingly well, too, but I refuse to learn the lines of a villain unless absolutely necessary.

Finally, The Bear, is simply a masterpiece. Everyone was watching it, but because I don't follow trends (I'm too cool), I watched it months later. Somehow "masterpiece" is too bland of a word to describe how flabbergasting it truly is. Every performer draws you into the show more and more, and you feel for each character. It is organized chaos, yet everyone loves each other, and it's beautiful to witness.

Alongside my hyperactive mind is my imagination. I can deliberately and cohesively imagine a production or devised work from an image so long as there are some parameters. I attribute this skill to my love for reading. I once read in a book, "Limiting creativity produces a lack of intelligence," and it has stuck with me ever since. Although I pride myself on my newfound creativity (that I have truly fostered in PCP), once, I needed to significantly improve. Now, I have enthusiastically embraced my new creativity and am equally enthused to discover where it will take me. 

The one downside of this all is an unfortunate imposter syndrome. I never know if what I'm producing is decent enough for others. I always think I can do better and should prove that I deserve to be amongst the students at this institution, but I have already done that. That was completed when I applied and got accepted into the program. Now, I have to learn how to trust myself and believe that I can do what others know I can. After all, if I can't take pride in my work, then why make it?