There comes a point in life when we realize our failures should never be substandard. Never sins or crimes. Never inferior or inadequate. Never times we wish we could take back. Failure finds kinship with fear and labels perseverance as its enemy.

I suppose I should start from the beginning.

This year, over four hundred applicants tried out to be a part of the 2024 Rose Court, and I, along with my fellow Tologs Piper Scherbert and Ashlyn Pimental, were involved in that process. Over the course of four weeks, rounds of interviews were conducted with each applicant and the number of applicants slowly dwindled to a final seven young women.

The first round of the process consisted of each candidate having to go through a 15 second interview. That’s right – 15 seconds. An interviewer asked me one question and cut me off after 15 seconds had passed.

Exactly a week later came the second round of interviews. This one was particularly stressful for me; I had to rush from ACT testing to make it on time. For this and each subsequent round, I prepared as best I could, thinking of potential questions I might be asked and praying the perfect answer would leave my lips.

Each of these interviews was conducted in a separate room with a panel of judges who asked and recorded our answers to their questions. After each round, an anxiously-awaited email was sent that began with “Congratulations, you’ve made it to the next round!”

As each round progressed, the interviews got much longer and the questions became more personal. The only thing that remained impersonal was my number. At the beginning of the entire process, each applicant was handed a white, glossy card with an identification number with which each would identify throughout the rest of the process.

Of the hundreds and hundreds of applicants, I was 179.

That was how I introduced myself, and with every question someone asked, that’s how I was addressed.

“Hello, 179.”

“Good afternoon, 179.”

“179, what is your view on…”

The third and fourth rounds passed by week after week, “congratulations” after “congratulations” until the 28 finalists were chosen. Monday morning, the day so many people anxiously awaited, finally arrived. Family and friends gathered in front of the Tournament of Roses house where all the finalists were lined up. We watched as a man walked up to the podium stationed perfectly across each of the cameras. I listened to the first few minutes of his speech, hearing the waves of laughter that came with every joke he delivered. His speech ended and a woman approached him, passing the seven envelopes that would soon determine the fate of seven very happy girls – and twenty-one disappointed ones.

Seconds before the announcement, there was a moment when I was standing up on those stairs with the twenty-eight other beautiful, young women – Ashlyn a few steps to my right, Piper a row behind. I knew what everyone was thinking:

Who will make the Rose Court? Will she make the final seven? Or will she?

Spoiler alert: I did not make it onto the Rose Court. But I will forever be grateful for the experience and the opportunity to step out of my comfort zone.

Some of my fellow contestants may look back at this moment and call the whole experience a waste. Others might call it worthwhile. Some may never look back at the moment at all. Most will think they failed because they didn’t make it.

Failure is inevitable but it isn’t a bad thing. It’s how we grow. To be motivated to do something you love is admirable. To be disciplined in doing something you fear you’ll fail at…is brave.

My advice to you?

It’s not always brave to quit. Sometimes it’s brave just to try.