About Me

I consider myself one of the most passionate people I know. I know that sounds egotistical, self-centered or whatnot but there are very few things that I love. My family being number one and mental/ physical/ emotional health being the other. Other than that, I find it very difficult to find a fire, to find a purpose. Growing up I was so angry. I was angry that my parents split up and dated other people who were abusive, selfish, racist and mean. I was angry that I looked the way I do, that regardless of where I was I just could not fit in. I was angry that I was so alone, that I blocked people out of my life, that I could not find it within myself to be a loyal friend, to be fun or a child. I was angry that I was turned into an adult at an early age, that I could not relate to anyone. I was angry I almost lost my mom- twice. I was angry my dad had to work two jobs just so I cold play volleyball. I was angry.

My family is extremely diverse. My mother grew up in Germany but is Mexican, my dad is African American and Native American from a poor military, southern family who faced issues of alcoholism and racism. Then both parents decided to go into relationships which only grew my family into the extensive tribe I now adore. With all the people, all the personalities, I learned if you are not yelling, fighting, screaming, throwing, or a mixture thereof, you do not care. These are actions of passion, and today as I write this, hours after ending a seven-month relationship I remember the fire I had so long ago. I remember the urge to scream and yell, the urge to throw paint all over a canvas, the urge to run until my heart gives out, the urge to throw glass and watch it shatter. Because when it comes to my family, I will always love harder than I knew possible. And for some questionable reason I feel as if I will never see one of my family members again. And that sucks.

When I think, I think in color. I think in terms of vibrant splashes of reds and yellows, pinks, blues and black. I see people as colors, what their aura would be. I see this in an unorganized flow of color which is bold and bright. Almost as if the textures of paint are moving and overlapping each other. Never blending, never smoothing out. But thick strokes of color molding into thin whips which end into nothingness. I see the colors as a powerful force which moves people which shows the anger and rage people feel, the sadness and heartbreak. I see my passion as finding the emotions people feel, the struggles and successes. The colors of their heart.

I see myself as being vulnerable. I see the reasons why being vulnerable is one of the best things. Because it pushes you outside your comfort zone and allows you to grow. I love that feeling. The feeling of success, the feeling of confidence and transformation. The feeling of proving yourself wrong and having the ability to set new goals for yourself over and over again.

How this relates to my future in architecture today is superficial. I only applied into the architecture program to please my mom, to prove that I was worthy of something. I tell people I want to make sustainable buildings to help the environment but, in all honesty, I think we are beyond saving. and yet I believe that is not necessarily a bad thing. I think we are facing the last few generations of our kind and that is okay. So, in saying this, I want to live with heart, with love and full of color. I want to turn my anger into joy, my fire into something beautiful. Because if this is the last few generations, let us make the world a little bit more beautiful, add a bit more color and happiness and use our passion, or hearth, our screams and shattered glass into something wonderful.