I was born in Queensland, Australia on March 20th in 1987. That's not the most exciting way to start a life story, but it is where mine begins. My Mother used to tell me stories about her pregnancy; about how worried she became when she hit the two week overdue mark. Now that we're more enlightened about the situation, it's ever so obvious that all I really wanted was for my Mother to have me at home, rather than some foreign country or far-off recital stage. You see, my parents were both hard working people. My Father is one of Australia's highest ranking ambassadors, and my Mother was an accomplished pianist. I say "was" because she passed away when I was nine, but I have no doubt that she would still be playing if she was here now.

I was two months old the first time I traveled. Happily drooling and smiling at the flight attendants, I was blissfully unaware of what my life had in store for me. Airports and hotel rooms became my second home. In all truth, sometimes they felt more like my first.

My Mum always tried to keep me grounded, though my life was very different from the average kid's. She instilled in me a love for music, creativity, and that's something that I'll always be grateful for. I don't know what I'd do without those outlets now.

Even as a toddler, I was dragged from diplomatic conferences to charity events. My Father thought of me as the poster child for good will between nations, and all that it intails.

Here you see me at the age of four. The purple thing drooping over my face is a silky veil of some sort: the country I was in, when that picture was taken, required all women to cover their faces. I couldn't tell you which country it was now; it was a long time ago, and many countries have similar laws. If it wasn't for that, it'd be impossible to tell that my life was any different than average. I even had my panda, which always seemed to be with me, even when my Father tried to make me put it away for an event.

I started playing the keyboard around the same time that the picture was taken, and haven't put it down since. There's something about it that always made me smile, despite how frustrated it'd make me at times. Secretly I think Mother wanted me to follow in her footsteps, but despite how much I love playing and her constant encouragement, I don't want the pressure that comes with playing professionally. Playing is supposed to help me unwind, not bring more stress into my life.

I didn't pick up the flute or guitar until after Mother's death; she always spoke about how much she wanted to learn to play both, but she never got that chance. I suppose I felt it was my duty to in her place; I've yet to regret that descision.

Before University, I had never been to a school of any kind. Because of the scheduel restraints with how often my Father had to travel, going to school regularly simply wasn't possible. As such, my parents hired a traveling tutor to follow us around, and I was homeschooled (I use that term very loosely) from the start of Kindergarden to the end of grade 12.

Many would be envious of the life I've lead, but they weren't the ones who had to live it when things got rough. As much as I love traveling, the need to feel rooted somewhere has been with me for years. Especially after the accident...

My Mother died when I was nine. I've mentioned that before. What I didn't say was how or why. That's where things get the most complicated of all.

She had a recital in Tokyo that night. My father was there on business, aswell. My mother was constantly trying to plan events around her husband's scheduel; she wanted us to be together, more than anything.

Father was supposed to pick her up at ten. She never liked using drivers, and always prefered it when he drove her home. Sometimes it caused conflict, but he often agreed.

Something about that night was different, however. He got so wrapped up in making good with the other diplomats at this particular event (a dinner promoting a trade agreement between Tokyo and Australia) that he lost track of time.

She waited. She waited for him and he never came. Thinking that he was just running a bit late (or so we can only assume), she went into a cute toy shop she had been eyeing from across the street. I guess she thought it would be nice to bring me something back, since I had been coped up in the hotel all night. She did that kind of thing a lot; she loved watching my eyes light up as I unwrapped the surprise she had in store for me. That's what she said, anyway.

She bought a panda bear. One I still have to this very day. But as she was crossing the street again, a driver sped through a red light and struck her.

They found the bear at her side.

I didn't forgive my father for longer than I'd like to admit. He couldn't have known that such tragedy would take place, but if he would have been there when he was supposed to be... well, she might still be here today.

Miami. Most people go there when they want to escape from the world, when they want a vacation on the nicest beaches or to dance in the most expensive clubs. I'd be lying if I said those things had no allure to me, but they aren't the things that brought me here. See, most people go to Miami to escape real life; I came to Miami because I wanted to live it on my own.

The University of Arotan is as challenging as the grounds are stunning and as creative as it is academic. It isn't an Ivy League school (then again, I never did have the intention of going to one, much to my father's dismay…), but I have no doubt it'll give me everything I need… assuming I make it through alive!

I haven't decided where I want to go with my degrees yet, but I plan to major in English and Music, with minors in Journalism and Ancient History/Studies. As I had said earlier, when showing you a glimpse of my childhood, I have no intention of playing music professionally. With that said, there are plenty of other directions to go in with that major, and it's a passion. I knew it wasn't something I'd regret working for, despite that fact.

University life is everything you'd expect it to be. I have a noisy dorm (father insisted on setting me up with an apartment, but I wanted my first year of school to be like everyone else's, so he lost the battle… for now), I never have a chance to sleep, I spend more time in coffee shops and local cafes than I do at home, and I'd like to believe that I have everything under control when half of the time that couldn't be farther from the truth. This is uni life; nothing more, nothing less.

With the classes comes the studying, and with the studying comes the… reading glasses?! Yes, unfortunately it's true, I've been wearing reading glasses since I was sixteen. There are pros to having them – I do think they look snazzy! – but for the majority of the time, I find myself annoyed by their inconvenience. They're impossible to keep clean, and somehow I always manage to get huge smudges on them, no matter how careful I think I'm being, or how many times I've wiped them down. Grrr! I'm not sure why I'd think anyone needs to know this, but if I was writing my future memoirs, I'm sure that'd be in there somewhere!

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