faith rider

This is my depiction of graduating high school and separating from everyone I've known for most of my life. The golden graduation cap was so coveted in our childhood, it takes receiving it to realize its only the beginning of the rest of our lives. And even those I interacted with on a daily basis, I haven't seen since. I knew the falling through of fair weather friends was inevitable, but to see that moving across the state caused me to walk a path nearly completely separate from everyone I knew was jarring. The facelessness was a choice I made to show that I am already beginning to forget what made my high school relations so important. The graduation cap is situated above a stack of books with golden bookmarks; though the textbooks are what got me to the degree, there's few details I remember, and I have left most of that knowledge behind me. My freshman year was just this—coping with walking away into the unknown, and finding the dichotomy of how big and small the world is.

This is my depiction of, what I believe, was the start of taking on real adult responsibilities. First year, I was living on campus and living the life of a STEM college student. Studying in the library, Friday nights on Sigma Sigma Commons, walking to Calhoun street; Cincinnati wasn't really home, not in the slightest. But come second year, I started living off-campus, I didn't have a meal-plan, and I started my first co-op. Suddenly, I needed to get to know the city a bit more. Where should I pick up my meds? What grocery stores have the best sale this week? How in the world do I pay utilities? This year, I was really made aware of so many aspects of living life on my own. The map says, "HOW TO figure out the start of your life". I think I can speak for everyone when I say I wish that manual was real. I chose to make the scene at night, partly for the striking image is gives, but it also has me by myself. The only person I could ask for help is the bodega employee, but now that I'm on my own, I need to find the courage to go and ask for help.

This year was a whirlwind, and I think my depiction encapsulates that. This was my first year in the NEXT Innovation Scholars program, which fundamentally changed how I see myself going forward post-graduation. I felt directionless with my major, as I knew I wanted to utilize the analytical programming/development aspect, but I didn't want to give up getting to talk to people often. I'm a people-person, and I found that I can't give that up. Being in NIS and being part of a group of such high-achieving students, who also don't limit themselves to what people say their major is allowed to do, gave me the confidence to explore beyond what is expected of me. One of the hallmarks of this was my involvement on a project in Fall 2023. For this project, I was on a seven-person team looking into how AI may be utilized in the future for our client. At the end of this, they flew us out to NYC to present our findings in their Manhattan office. The fact that I was fortunate enough to be a part of this, so early in my professional career, changed how I thought of my time at UC. Before, I was content to use my undergrad as an in-between—the middle ground between childhood and adulthood. This year made me realize that I don't need to wait. I'm not planning on trying to speed my way to the finish line, but I'm not going to wait for opportunities to come to me. I need to go out and find them today.