Charli XCX and I are basically the same person. Alright, maybe that's overstating it, but we're both musicians. She and I have both been through a lot and I see "brat" as a celebration of her place in the music industry that she created for herself. The songs vary from liberation anthems for free spirits like "360" to extremely profound approaches to complex topics like generational trauma in "apple". My favorite track, however much I may love the others, is "girl, so confusing". In the song, Charli reflects on her relationship with Lorde, another recording artist, to whom Charli has repeatedly been compared. Throughout the course of the song, Charli discovers that the issues in their relationship were no fault of their own, rather they were forced by the music industry to sell drama. Before releasing the album, Charli attempted to text Lorde, telling her about the song and the possible implications for both of their careers. Lorde didn't reply until the day after the album release which is when she replied with the text that is now her verse on the remix of the song. In the text, she states many profound things, claiming that throughout their years of stardom, she was scared to be around Charli because of her own self doubt and how much she looks up to Charli as an artist and human being. She states that in the formative years of her career, she was battling eating disorders, and cited them as being one of the destroying factors of the two's relationship. She said that not being around Charli was a form of self-defense because to her, Charli was the model of what a young artist should be, and it isn't until later that she reveals that "[I] forgot that inside that icon there's still a young girl from Essex", sharing that Charli (the icon in reference) has her issues as well. The most healing part of the song comes at the end of the verse when Lorde reveals that the industry was pitting them against each other the whole time, singing "It's you and me on the coin the industry loves to spend". Lorde's verse closes with a proclamation of her continued adoration for Charli, and a testament to their friendship. The two have created a masterpiece that battles traditional views of the music industry and how artists should treat each other as rivals rather than companions. This healing anthem will be my favorite song on "brat" for the foreseeable future because of it's message.

I love puzzles that have many layers like Connections. I have many ideas inspired by my life and previous puzzles that I have seen. This puzzle combines some of my loves for music, my religion, tv, and confusing people. Yellow (Female rappers): Cardi (B), Nicki (Minaj), Megan (Thee Stallion), Azealia (Banks) Green (Biblical Names): Ruth, Leah, Rachel, Rebekah Blue (one half of a tv sitcom): Grace (and Frankie), Thelma (and Louise), Kate (and Allie), Shirley (and Laverne) Purple (Women's names that begin with a Roman numeral): Mary (m=1000) , Louise (L=50), Dorothy (D=500), Catherine (C=100) I think that this will confuse people enough since these are all women's names and any sort of correlation can be drawn between them. For instance, Dorothy can be confused as a main character like Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz, and likewise, Thelma and Louise would likely be paired together by an older audience. I think where an older audience would do better is with the sitcoms since Shirley and Laverne is an older show, and so is Thelma and Louise. I don't know how they would fare with the rappers category, but I think the younger generation would do well since those names are all standouts. Mary is a very popular biblical name so narrowing down that Mary isn't in the biblical category will likely mess many people up.

I have the great misfortune of being misunderstood in life. I am queer, weird, a huge nerd, not into sports, a vegan, and whatever other labels society wants to throw on me. I felt the repercussions of my oddities hit me in middle school when I quickly became an outsider except for those who wanted to use my brain to compensate for their own. I didn't know how to stand up for myself so I gave in. This happened for three years. Needless to say, I was terrified for high school. I just moved houses because of my parents' divorce, I didn't have friends, and I was rapidly becoming increasingly nerdy. Luckily, I met Pozos. Not Ms. Pozos, not Mrs. Pozos, or even Sra. Pozos, just Pozos. That's what she preferred to be called. Formalities never existed with her, and my guard went down immediately upon stepping into her classroom, seeing a rainbow flag, and even better, a smiling face. I was never weird to her. I was never the gay kid, the fat kid, the socially awkward kid. I was just Logan. Nothing more, nothing less. She was my teacher for three years. Two years for 20th Century US History in Spanish, and the third for AP Spanish Literature. I also had the opportunity to go on a trip with her and my Spanish Literature classmates to Salamanca, Spain where I was ostracized again, but her support for me never faltered. She is the reason I am here today. Though I am misunderstood and people construe their thoughts about me, I have found support in my communities, specifically the LGBTQ+ community, and I have found the ability to support others in my communities as well. In preparation for the aforementioned trip to Spain, I tutored to save money. One of my clients had been homeschooled for the past year due to COVID-19, and she was "behind" on her math skills. She is queer, autistic, has ADHD, and is extremely nerdy like myself. We started with what her parents thought was best for her to start with. Multiplication drills. Ten minutes in she would start crying. This happened for weeks until crying turned to confusion about why I hadn't left yet. I told her that I wasn't giving up on her. I worked with her to create a curriculum that worked and I explained things to her in a way that I would need things explained to me. She was never behind on her abilities, she just never had it taught to her the way she needed. She went back to public school the next year and was one of the top students in her math class because she started believing in herself and valuing the way she thinks instead of trying to conform to others. Now as an undergraduate, I am going for two SLAT (Second Language Acquisition and Teaching) certificates in English and Spanish. My goal is to move abroad and teach language and culture to kids all around the world. I know I can connect with a wide variety of students who would otherwise be ignored because I was once them, and I still am them. They need to see someone like them up in front of the classroom. I think once they see that I believe in myself, they'll start believing in themselves too.

French Horn is the thing that saved my life when I was going through my parents' divorce and the fallout of my relationship with my father. I didn't know how to deal with my convoluted emotions so I turned to the one thing that could tell my feelings better than I could; music. I started music when I was four years old with piano and promptly after at five with church choir, so needless to say, music has always been a huge part of my life. I have been performing for as long as I can remember, but I never really understood the *point* until this year. That is, why do music in a world that needs scientists and activists? Currently, I am studying general music and linguistics at the University of Oregon as a Sophomore. I started my Freshman year as a music performance and music education double major but realized that I didn't want to pursue music full-time. It wasn't making me happy. Once I had that realization, I finally understood what impact I wanted to make in the world through music. I want to make myself and others happy. I want to tell stories through my music. I don't care about auditions and beating people out for symphony solos. I want to pursue a full-time career as a language teacher in a foreign country and play Horn where I can, finding opportunities to spread the joy that music brings me.

The bright lights shone in my eyes when I slammed my horn down, my lungs gasping for air, the tears streaming down my face. I walked off of the field at Autzen Stadium feeling complete. I was done with my high school marching band career. Although I have marched four competitive seasons for marching band, my last one was my best and favorite, not because of the show design, but because of the people I shared it with. I am fortunate enough to have been section leader for the mellophones in our band for two seasons, and as a leadership student, I was required to attend a leadership academy for a week to hone my leadership skills. It was there that I learned so much about myself. One day our instructor told us about his cancer. He learned that he would die within three months if he didn't have surgery, so obviously he took the opportunity to receive a lifesaving procedure. He was told that he would be immobile forever. He attended physical therapy to recover, and he received homework - exercises to recover. He always did more than suggested. If they told him to do ten pushups, he did eleven, 15 meant 16, and so on. My perspective on life changed drastically. My life hasn't had major changes, but now that my outlook has changed, my life is much better because I dedicate my all to everything I do. I tried to pass this message along to my section during my last year of high school marching band. I emphasized that I didn’t care if they were perfect, if they hit every note, or missed a step. All I cared about was their effort. That message worked in a way that I thought it never would. I saw them try harder than any other section, and we ended up winning the best section of the year because of our effort. Leading my section also taught me things about myself. I have the aspiration to be a high school band director, and I can’t imagine doing anything else. My passion lies in teaching youth and spreading the messages that were taught to me, the lessons that taught me what it means to be a leader, a pioneer, and a mentor. I want to give them the same refuge that music gave to me. For me to attain these goals, I am required to go to college for four years for my undergraduate degree in Music Education, though I am also getting my bachelor's degree in Music Performance. I am also going for my master's degree in Music Education after I graduate, and that will be my focus while I am also working full-time. I could say that the amount of hours bothers me, or that the amount of money doesn’t make my education worth it, but I would be lying. Music education means everything to me, so even the idea of getting to teach the future leaders of the world music is the greatest gift I have ever received because I know that I have the power to make a difference in someone else’s life.

I want to be able to inspire kids with band music just like my band directors have inspired and helped me.

American culture is killing the earth. Think about it and hang with me for just a second. What is considered the pinnacle of fine dining? A great steak. What is served at every sporting event while fans cheer either in the stadium or from home? Burgers and hot dogs. What is a beloved childhood staple for all kids in the US that certainly didn’t do us favors healthwise? Chicken nuggets. We are eating the earth to death. The overconsumption of meat in American culture has profound impacts beyond our health; it also affects the health of our planet. For every cattle farm, tons upon tons of methane gas is released into the atmosphere, causing more harm to the ozone layer than carbon dioxide, animal waste is released into local streams and rivers, killing aquatic biodiversity, and toxic waste from those fumes is breathed in by nearby residents, causing horrific health issues. We have hundreds of meat farms like this in the United States, confining animals to small cages and enclosing them with their waste to raise them to die, slowly killing ourselves in the process. Meat mega-giants like Tyson operate the majority of these, which causes a massive difference since family-owned farms typically do not subscribe to the same harmful treatment of animals or overproduction of animals that cause the environmental issues that massive operations ensue. Shockingly, we haven’t even gotten to half the problem yet. These animals are then transported to their deaths in gas-guzzling trucks by the masses in an unsustainable manner. The chicken handlers typically are so violent and the chicken’s nutrition is so poor that when the person grabs them to force them onto the truck, the chicken’s brittle leg bones snap. This job can also cause health issues, which would explain why it has a turnover rate of 100% per year. You see, the meat industry isn’t only killing us, or even the planet. Meat is killing our economy as well. If there are so many issues with this widespread phenomenon, why do we continue to buy into it? Companies like McDonald’s want us to believe that they have all-natural products, but what they abstain from mentioning is the byproduct of their choices. All major chains play this game with innocent bystanders. Except we aren’t bystanders. We have power. This is a game that we can choose to not play. I chose two and a half years ago to go vegan, and six years before that to go vegetarian. We the people have the power to say that this is not a sustainable practice by all definitions of the word. Not only is it cruel to the animal, but it is cruel to ourselves and our children and the future of the planet to continue harming it. By eating local plants, we save gas, waste, and our health. This is an obvious choice. Are you brave enough to make it?

Untamed by Glennon Doyle is the most transformative book I have ever read, and it caught me by surprise, to be frank. I knew that I would like it when my mother told me it was autobiographical and by a queer author since I tend to gravitate more toward books about the queer experience. Doyle not only talks about her experience as someone who discovered she is queer later in life, however, but she also discusses how she navigated coming to terms with what it meant to be a divorced parent, a wife, an activist, and a woman. No matter what, there is something deeply relatable about her writing. If you think you don't have something in common with Doyle off of that previous list, the human experience is enough of a common ground to find something of great meaning in her writing. I was in tears many times reading it, and the words still linger in my brain to this day. One of her most prevalent messages in the book is the power of yourself, of your knowledge and brain and soul. She repeats the phrase "be still and know", which she references in times of great strife. When she is in the middle of a life-changing decision that could go horribly, she talks about a truth coming up that can only be found by being completely yourself and listening to the deepest part of your soul. After going through various traumatic experiences where I had to be able to adapt and learn and grow and make decisions that would affect my life for ages to come, I used the knowledge that Doyle wrote and I sank to my deepest level and let the golden truth rise from my soul until I knew what was right after reflecting. I learned how to be confident. I learned that my soul knows what's best. I learned that no matter what, I need to lead with love, because we're all human and we live such short lives on this tiny little planet, and we need to love each other.

I distinctly remember sitting in the car with my father on the way to math in my eighth-grade year. The old family Prius felt deserted. Plenty of food stains from late nights of infidelity trashed the seats. I saw the receipts from the local McDonald’s littering the car floor, and was anxiously aware of notifications appearing on his phone from his mistress as a “Private Chat” as if I didn’t know what that meant. That was the year that my mother found out that he was cheating on her. Honestly, I resented him for that, and I didn’t hide my ire well. This specific day, he was wearing a cologne that pierced my nostrils, partly because the odor gave me a raging headache, but also because it reeked of his betrayal of his entire family. I glared at him and muttered, “Can you please open the windows, I’m getting a headache from your perfume,” the anger didn’t hide itself in my tone. “Why are you always rude to me? What did I ever do to you?” His rebuke made it evident to me. I have shoved aside. I wasn’t good enough. He didn’t understand the pain he created. I loathed myself for years because I thought I was fantasizing about my pain. For my own sake, I needed an antidote to alleviate my anxiety. I had always loved music since I started playing piano at age four, and french horn in fifth grade. That day with my father, however, music took on a different meaning for me. Music was no longer my passion in life or a fun hobby, Music was my only refuge. Music was the only thing that kept me from interacting with my father. I hid upon arrival at our home by scurrying to my room and immediately pulling out my horn. The buzz of my lips became synonymous with freedom, even if it was just for an hour. A year later in my waking hours away from my den, I stepped into high school. I wasn’t excited like most freshmen, or even anxious. I was emotionless, void, desolate. My mind was a desert made arid by self-hatred. I was already familiar with the band room, but my eighth-grade year of marching band was hostile. Daily battles regarding my queerness were unavoidable. This year, however, it felt different. I stepped into a different room. I was in the Wind Ensemble now. I belonged here. My hard work freed me from my eighth-grade purgatory. I learned a lot during my freshman year, both academically and introspective. I received a new space to explore music where it wasn’t my haven from my surroundings. Suddenly the barrier was broken down and my world became full of sonority. Music was now a celebration of my life. Music allowed me to find happiness within myself. Though my father still causes me great strife, I can now move on from it because the pain is no longer what defines me. My past inspires me to share the gift of music. My high school band goes to retirement centers and plays for the elderly, we give free concerts for the community, and most of our students are in various clubs that do tons of volunteer work in the community such as creek cleanups or food drives. Music has a way of speaking to people as no language has. During my career as a music educator, I will provide kids with some peace and comfort while they are experiencing something similar to what I experienced. I know it's hard, but the music makes it better.

Before you continue reading, think of your favorite song. Do you have it in mind? I know I do. Think of the lyrics, and think of how they speak to you. It might be a song you listen to while going through a breakup or a song you listen to while driving to work to pump yourself up. As a band student, music has gotten me through dark places in life. I use music as an escape tool. Let me give you a glance into my life. I distinctly remember sitting in the car with my father on the way to math in my eighth-grade year. The old family Prius felt deserted. Plenty of food stains from late nights of infidelity trashed the seats. I saw the receipts from the local McDonald’s littering the car floor, and was anxiously aware of notifications appearing on his phone from his mistress as a “Private Chat” as if I didn’t know what that meant. That was the year that my mother found out that he was cheating on her. Honestly, I resented him for that, and I didn’t hide my ire well. This specific day, he was wearing a cologne that pierced my nostrils, partly because the odor gave me a raging headache, but also because it reeked of his betrayal of his entire family. I glared at him and muttered, “Can you please open the windows, I’m getting a headache from your perfume,” the anger didn’t hide itself in my tone. “Why are you always rude to me? What did I ever do to you?” His rebuke made it evident to me. I have been shoved aside. I wasn’t good enough. He didn’t understand the pain he created. I loathed myself for years because I thought I was fantasizing about my pain. For my own sake, I needed an antidote to alleviate my anxiety. I had always loved music since I started playing piano at age four, and french horn in fifth grade. That day with my father, however, music took on a different meaning for me. Music was no longer my passion in life or a fun hobby, Music was my only refuge. Music was the only thing that kept me from interacting with my father. I hid upon arrival at our home by scurrying to my room and immediately pulling out my horn. The buzz of my lips became synonymous with freedom, even if it was just for an hour. A year later in my waking hours away from my den, I stepped into high school. I wasn’t excited like most freshmen, or even anxious. I was emotionless, void, desolate. My mind was a desert made arid by self-hatred. I was already familiar with the band room, but my eighth-grade year of marching band was hostile. Daily battles regarding my queerness were unavoidable. This year, however, it felt different. I stepped into a different room. I was in the Wind Ensemble now. I belonged here. My hard work freed me from my eighth-grade purgatory. I learned a lot during my freshman year, both academically and introspective. I received a new space to explore music where it wasn’t my haven from my surroundings. Suddenly the barrier was broken down and my world became full of sonority. Music was now a celebration of my life. Music allowed me to find happiness within myself. Though my father still causes me great strife, I can now move on from it because the pain is no longer what defines me. I hope to help kids like me, kids that have gone through pain, kids that have passion, and kids that are special, because we all deserve peace and love in our lives. Music is the only language that everyone in the world can understand. As a future music educator, I know that power first-hand. Music created harmony in my soul in my darkest times, and I want to spread that solace.

Imagine a piece of music about an event so tragic in which a brother killed his sister, traumatizing hundreds of students and making school floors bloody with his rage. The piece "Some Treasures are Heavy With Human Tears" by John Mackey means the world to me. I first played it during my Junior year of high school, and it immediately spoke to me. Mackey has a way of telling stories through sound, and this piece hurts the heart to play. There's a point where the French Horn part just sustains a nice painful high note for a long time and just blasts it, and I cried every time we got there. What makes it even more meaningful to me is that I was able to meet Mackey and talk with him about the piece. I asked him about his message in the piece. He said that there is no message intended, but sometimes music helps us comprehend the incomprehensible. The band director commissioned the piece after the shooting, and Mackey wrote it during the pandemic. He told me that he cried for days while writing it because it happened near his hometown, and the fact that a band student was the shooter was just unfathomable. The trumpet is the star of the show, and at the end, the trumpet, muted, holds and crescendoes a note, blasting it before cutting it off abruptly. The sister of the shooter, the first victim of the massacre, was a trumpet player in the band. I now cry every time I hear this piece, but it reminds me of how music can help people process emotions differently and put an event so horrific into something that we can understand and feel.