< Certificate of Honor >

< Certificate of Honor >

It’s been 18 years now. For 18 full years have you been so diligent and hard-working.


I still remember the first day we met. So cold was it in Hoengseong, my teeth were clattering and my legs shivering. Then, for first time you opened yourself and I took a nervous step inside. That unforgettable moment, I was amazed at how broad and neat hearted you were. Bold and sturdy on the outside yet warm and welcoming on the inside, you gave me trust and I knew I could always count on you.


For hundred times a day, for students, teachers, and workers, heavy and light, tall and short, you didn’t seem to mind. Your mind was always wide open. No matter how late I was, you had my back covered. Landing me safe and sound, just in time on the lobby, you proved to me, nothing is impossible.    


Then, last summer when you were ill, the entire school was rent with grief. Although it was only a week or two, your absence was so critical. So many were sent to court and everyone thought “Only if you had been there.” As Benjamin Franklin said “We get wise too late and old too soon,” it was only after you were gone that we realized how much we appreciated and loved you.


So now that you have returned, young and beautiful as you used to be 18 years back, we give you this certificate of honor. Mr. Elevator. Kmla. Senior, we honor you today, November 26th 2013, as the “Best Elevator in the World,” for having volunteered for the safety and convenience of thousands of KMLA family members over the past 18 years. With no doubt, You, Mr.Elevator, have certainly raised us all, to the “highest level.”

Tales of the Unexpected- Roald Dahl

Although I have only read a couple of the stories out of <Tales of the Unexpected>, it was certainly enough for me to find several common traits shared among the stories. The most significant of them was the “ironic” attitude of the narrator. The irony appears when the narrator contradicts himself by speaking of horrid things in such a moderate manner. The last scene of <Lamb to the Slaughter>, where the detectives eat the murder weapon as their supper, the narrator adds lines such as “One of them belched” as if the men were eating an ordinary lamb chop. Like so, I think such narrating methods made the overall tone of the stories sarcastic and cynical.

 

Unlike his children’s’ novels, most of the Roald Dahl’s short stories in <Tales of the Unexpected> portray the negative side of human nature. The dark themes of the stories suggest that the author intended to show the negative human natures through the actions of his characters. Revenge, in <Lamb to the slaughter>, greed in <Mrs. Bixby and the Colonel’s Coat>, and dishonesty in <Man from the South>, all three are example of Dahl’s such intentions. Almost as if it is a punishment, the main characters mostly end up in a tragedy for pursuing immoral human deeds. Like so, not only did the author try to portray the evil human nature, but also he tried to show his critical attitude towards it.  

 

Lastly, another hint suggesting Dahl’s negative portrayal of human nature is perhaps the theme “trust.” In <Man from the South>, the American Boy answers “Sure, I’ll bet, why not?” to the South American man that he encountered for the first time; and eventually he almost loses his finger for a Cadillac that didn’t even exist. In <Mrs. Bixby and the Colonel’s Coat>, Mrs. Bixby cheats on her husband for 8 years. On the contrary, she herself, who refused to write the description of the coat saying “I trust you” to the pawnbroker, is cheated in the deal with the broker. By making the characters trust in the beginning and eventually get betrayed at the end, I assume that Dahl intended two things. It’s either that Dahl wanted to stress the evilness of the human nature by contrasting a crime against trust and innocence, or simply to show the stupidity of human nature, so carefree and lacking suspicion.

 

Are they Really Homosexual?

At first glance, Oscar Wilde's "The Picture of Dorian Gray" might appear to deal with the homosexuality between Dorian and his two admirers, Basil and Henry. After all, when the book was first published in 1890, it was both popularized and criticized by the public for dealing with one of the “tabooed” values of the Victorian era. Although there are no direct references to homosexuality in the book, quotes such as “…saw Dorian Gray for the first time… our eyes met…I grew pale. A curious sensation of terror came over me” and the homosexual preference of the author himself bring a synergy effect; emerging together, they-the evidences- seem enough to refer to the theme “homosexuality”. However, as Oscar Wilde was often quoted “All art is quite useless,” he did not “use” his novel to portray real-life, personal traits; thus, it is more accurate to see his literary works with no accordance with his sexual preference. Accordingly, the relationship between Basil and Dorian cannot be proven to be something more than an artist’s attraction for his masterpiece. Therefore, it is perhaps more accurate to assume that the atmosphere of the novel is not based on a sexual affection of males, but an instant interest or platonic attraction among companions. In this sense, homosexuality, one of the major themes of “the Picture of Dorian Gray”, should rather be accepted as a “shaky” idea built upon lack of evidence and not a solid statement.

Very Personal- Ben X

Ben X; I Am Nothing (2007)

    - Ben being taunted

 

“In order to feel good, you need to learn how to feel” - Scarlite

Despite the fact that he has suffered from autism and Asperger’s syndrome all his life, Ben (Greg Timmermans) is to attend a “normal” high school with all the other “normal” students. For the past few years, he has been constantly bullied by his classmates (especially by the two extra mean boys named Bogaert and Desmedt), but this time, the class has somewhat “crossed the line” in taunting and humiliating Ben. With that “incident” being a catalyst, Ben and his mother begin a struggle to finally make things alright.

 “This is my end game”- Ben X

Ben views the world as if he is playing his favorite game of “ArchLord,” in which he is called Ben X, level 80, heroic, and loved by his “healer” named Scarlite (Lara Verlinden). The film does an excellent job in building a game-like portrayal of Ben’s perspective of the world by, for example, intertwining Ben as the actual human Ben, being all tense and nervous on the complicated streets on his way to school and the fictional ArcLord character Ben X, going on a quest while following a mouse cursor floating on the screen. Throughout the film, the viewer can really experience the true assimilation of reality and an MMORPG game, with all the game-like sound effects and BGMs.

 - Ben's view of the world

The running time of total 93 minutes basically deals with the dark situation that Ben has faced all his life and the attempt to overcome such a situation; narrated both in Ben’s first perspective, and in the third perspective of others surrounding Ben. The scenes that frequently flip back and forth between the first narrative of Ben and the recorded interviews of people certainly stresses the intention of the director; he might have wanted to clarify what was going on in the movie since half of Ben’s perspective was based on the computer graphic scenes on ArchLord. However, despite the director’s initial intentions, whether the interviews of such diverse people- his mom, dad, teachers and etc- actually helped with the clarification or rather contributed to more distraction is debatable.       

Overall, the movie is respectable in a sense that it faced many of the hot social issues such as teenage game addiction and bullying. Nevertheless, bringing the film to a personal level, it was rather disappointing. As a viewer that has an ex-game addict older sister an  therefore abhors games in all shapes or forms, I did not enjoy a single part of Ben’s hypersensitive game viewing eyes, the game like sound effects, nor the 3D computer graphics. Personally, I give the movie 6 out of ten, for I couldn’t feel what Ben was learning to feel  even until the entire movie ended, but rather I sympathized more with his younger brother that appeared on the screen for less than 5 minutes in total.

 

Cast: Greg Timmermans (Ben), Laura Verlinden (Scarlite), Marijke Pinoy (Mom), Titus De Voogdt (Bogaert), Maarten Claeyssens (Desmedt) and Pol Goossen (Dad).

The Last man Standing

In Oscar Wildes’ The Picture of Dorian Gray, all the characters face their tragic finals by either getting murdered or committing suicide. Starting with Sibyl’s suicide, Basil gets slaughtered by Dorian, Alan kills himself, and James Vane is shot by a hunter. The death of Basil, without doubt, was brought by Dorian, but when observed more carefully, I noticed that the death of others also had Dorian as the fundamental cause.   

 

Then, where or who was the centre of that evil, which corrupted Dorian to “murder” so many people? In the beginning of the plot, Dorian was said to be “unstained purity” but towards the end as somebody tells him “the goes the devil’s bargain” he turned out to be the monster he found in the portrait.

 

The first sacrifice of Dorian’s vice was Sibyl Vane, the former fiancé of Dorian who killed herself after Dorian unilaterally broke the marriage. James Vane, the brother of Sibyl Vane, was shot while stalking the “murderer” of his sister, Dorian, by a hunter who had mistaken him as a deer. Then, Dorian reveals his highest potential of wickedness when slaughtering his closest friend Basil and black mailing his chemist friend Alan Campbell to hide the crime scene. Alan, who later kills himself for guiltiness, tells Dorian “You are infamous, absolutely infamous!” after getting threatened that Dorian would publicize his homosexuality if he had not done the job.        

 

Murder after murder, Dorian seems to develop his evilness. Some people say, “as written in the book, the “yellow book” was the core of the bad influence.” But then as Wilde wrote “All art is quite useless,” could it really have been that single book that destroyed Dorian? And after every incident, Dorian still seems to have some moral senses, which are however; all contradicted by Lord Henry. From the very beginning of the story, Lord Henry has had a great amount of influence on Dorian and it can be seen from “Basil would have helped him to resist Lord Henry’s influence, and still the more poisonous influence came…” Also, as Lady Naborough said “Lord Henry, I am not at all surprised that the world says that you are extremely wicked.” Many parts of the book proved his evilness.

 

Sibyl died from a broken heart and the failed relationship that devastated was actually due to Lord Henry who, behind the scenes, persuaded Dorian to break up with Sibyl because “One should never make one’s debut with a scandal.” Lord Henry, with his villainous character, not only encourages immorality, but also destroys the existing morality within Dorian by constantly justifying the immoral actions that Dorian himself regrets. After the death of Alan, Dorian falls in sorrow for luring the man into his death but Lord Henry describes it as “It’s the man’s own fault. Why did he get in front of the guns?”

 

The story ends by Dorian killing himself after acknowledging the tragic outcome of his wrong doings in the severely wrecked portrait. Finally, with Dorian committing suicide as a result of the immorality, which was introduced to him by Lord Henry, Lord Henry eventually becomes the “core” of all tragedies. And as of what I noticed to be very interesting, he was the only man alive, or the “last man standing.”  

   

 

                                             

 

 

Xiao! Wang Jing

“Wang, duck down a bit.”

“W…What? Why should I? Where am I? Where’ you guys bringin’ me? Please let me go I gotta go and finish my Common App tonight.”

I refused to move despite the rigid hand tugging on my arm, forcing me to keep on walking. The hand of the person that tied this annoying cloth around my eyes, probably that of Franky; it sounded like him, felt like him, and most of all, smelled like him. Well, I obviously knew that there had to be many others involved in this besides him. Not only could I smell a crowd around me, but I also heard the mocking giggles that have been irritating me ever since they “kidnapped” me in front of the Yoga house. The group mainly consisted of my homeroom classmates but with Liz missing. Liz and I have been together for 3 years; I recognized her scent within the radius of several yards. Unlike me, Liz was an outgoing, active girl, and it was quite strange to not have her participate in a prank played, especially, on her own boyfriend.    

 

“Chai hong Yoga house”, as its name suggests, is a small yoga academy located on Millwood Avenue, the main street of China Town Virginia, where my mom gives yoga lessons during weekday evenings to most of Virginia’s bourgeois housewives. It was awkward to have 15 “elegant” female Anglo-Americans gliding through china town in their silver Audi’s but my mom’s fancy resume of being an Olympic bronze medalist kept luring them in to this shaggy neighborhood for over ten years.

 

Barely ten minutes ago, was I there on the shaggy road, to pick up mom’s unlaundered yoga outfit. Now, I’m headed into some kind of a naughty mischief my friends prepared for me. I felt bad. And I meant it. Tonight was the perfect chance to finish my grand experiment with the perfumes. I’ve been working for almost 3 years now, to make the perfect scent for Liz’s graduation gift and I had only 2 months left until I finish it, give it to her, and finally enjoy myself cuddling with the perfect girl perfumed with the perfect scent. Even mom said she’ll be working late at dad’s restaurant, helping with the group reservation, or some teens having a birthday party. That bought me a ton of private time. I had no time to waste; my clock was ticking away. Whoever it was that was playing this time consuming prank on me, I would most certainly take revenge on as soon as it ended.

But for now, Franky was my one and only guidance, preventing me from bumping into stuffs. I could identify people, food, and the overall atmosphere by simply sniffing the mid-air, but not walls and ceilings. Some smelled like wet fungi but usually they smelled like nothing. 

“Ouch”

“See? I told you to duck down. It’s in part your fault. Who told you to be so tall?”

 

Okay. The first one on “People to Revenge” list was definitely Franky. My forehead began throbbing. I get the feeling it’s going to bruise tomorrow. I tried to take my attention off from the pain and on to something like “Where was I going?” My forehead told me that I was indoors, just past some kind of an arch-shaped entrance, and for the rest, my nose went on doing its job. With the eyes disabled, my nose became extra sensitive.

 

“Sniff”

 

Yuan xi, or Chinese parsley. Followed by sesame oil, rice, pork, ginger, garlic, spring onion, pepper, chilly, soy sauce, oyster sauce all blended and complementing each other as if… As if it was it was the smell of my father’s apron I remember as a child. The apron of a head chef in Beijing’s largest hotel always smelled like a mouth watering Chinese dish garnished with freshly chopped Yuan xi, in it catching the story of the chef’s hard day and telling it to his son. Cilantro, or Yuan xi, for me, was the smell of my dad with his generous smile, smell of home back at China, smell of warmth, smell of all things that were taken from me on that plane here to America. Tabooed from coming near their restaurant, attending boarding school, and being forced to become an “Intellect” unlike them for 12 whole years, I had almost forgot the scent of it. The piercing scent of cilantro grasped my fading memory of comfort; comfort that existed before our family was flew out of China in search for the American dream, while sitting on an intractable amount of debt. For the first time in 12 years, I felt warm, and then I realized that for the first time in 12 years, I had stepped in to a Chinese restaurant.

 

“Surprise!”

 

It took a moment for my eyes to adjust to the brightness it had been missing for an hour. Then first came the sight of Franky, then my friends, then the scene of a Chinese restaurant….Then mom? She looked shocked just as much as I did. A brief sense of empathy came across me, then in a matter of seconds; however, a gush of anger had swept it off its feet.

 

“What the hell??”

 

I could hear my heart pound in my ears.

“Tada~ It’s your Birthday Wang Jing!”

 

There was a cake on the table, and their eyes were full of silent pride of accomplishment. They did indeed succeed in surprising me. They had just broken my, no my family’s life-time taboo. And now, it was MY turn to show them what they had just done. The quiet, introverted Chinese nerd was off the leash. I grabbed Franky by his hair.

“What are you doing! Wang Jing Stop!!”

 

Just before I banged Franky’s head against the table, I saw the menu chart fall from my mom’s trembling hands, on to the floor. And that was when the time halted.

 

“……..”

 

Not a sound was made, nor a breath was taken. I let go of the hair. A handful remained in my fist, Franky screamed a scream of a pig and people started screaming along, but I couldn’t feel nor hear any of it. I read the title out loud.  

“Xiao Wang Jing”

My father came out of the kitchen with a rather embarrassed smile on his face as if I had discovered his little secret he had hoped to keep to himself. Or of naming the restaurant in the name of his son “The smile of Wang Jing.”

 

Suddenly, my senses came back with the olfactory sense reacting as the first. The soothing aroma of cilantro took me down. The anger, the shock, the confusion were all malfunctioning. I felt high in the scent of yuan xi, the Chinese restaurant, my father’s apron, and of my childhood comfort.

 

That night I was half out of mind, I didn’t do anything, say anything, not eat anything until I stood in front of my perfume collections,madly searching for the last scent that would satisfy the lacking 2 percent of my grand project. I carefully took the spoid, on the verge of going mad with excitement, and perfected the aroma of my memory. Basking in my own glory, it was only after I had put on the lid written “Yuan xi” back on the bottle, that I realized I had created a cilantro-scented perfume for my girlfriend.        

Me Nam is Didi

 

In a classroom dimly lit by thin streaks of sunlight coming from the glass-less windows and ventilated by two wooden fans barely hanging on to the ceiling, awaited fifty pairs of eyes glistening with reserved excitement. For the first few days of class, I was simply the new “miss.” From the morning greetings of “Good morning miss” to common questions such as”You nam (name in Hindi) miss?” despite my efforts of crying out “Me nam is Min!” the replacement of the two “ss’s” with an “N” seemed nearly impossible.

Of all the classes, the Bengali class 7 and 8 was the shiest, yet the most diligent, and eventually the most memorable. To be honest, after the first class, I secretly hoped to change classes to that of a lower grade; I had dreamt of something less quite, more aggressive, and fun. Then on the next day, I dragged myself into the same class, wishing that it would end even before it started, frustrated already at the thought of being called “miss” all day.

I carelessly started handing out two sheets of colored papers, not really minding what pair of colors left my hand. Everybody seemed happy with what they got, pink and yellow, purple with light green, blue and red, but except for Pinky, who kept on looking down at her papers in an attempt to hide the disappointment in her face. And not thinking much about it again, I switched one of her two brown papers with a pink one; she was“Pinky” after all. “Tangku miss” she replied to me with such an over-sized smile that it almost embarrassed me. So everyone was satisfied in the end, excluding myself, working on their “bird in the cage" eye illusion crafting where you draw a cage on one paper, a bird on the other, and spin to see the “bird in the cage.” I was so bored I could almost hear a clock ticking over the dull, monotonous sounds of pencils scratching.

Another 40 minutes seemed to have somehow crawled past me without any deviations. However, just like any other surprises, mine also came at the very end. 5 minutes remaining for class, I was going around taping the two papers on to a stick so I could finally wrap up my boredom. It became Pinky’s turn to give me her papers for taping but instead of handing me the paper, she told me to lean over the desk and bring my ears closer as if she was going to whisper a secret to me. A bit annoyed, I did as she told me, I leaned over the desk to hear her little secret in an exaggeratedly enthusiastic manner. Fortunately, she didn't seem to care nor be suspicious, with her simple hesitant action, she just left me in a state of sudden shock. For the first time something deviated from my expectations, for the first time in India I was called by the name“didi” and for the first time ever in my life, kissed by a girl on my cheeks.

 

From that day on, I don’t know what Pinky did to her classmates, but class 7 and 8 certainly became my favorite class. They seemed to be thankful and happy even of the most minor things we did for them; for example individually asking their names and telling mine in return. All of the girls started calling me “didi”, we held hands when walking on the same direction on the street, and on the last day of class, Pinky brought her hair bands to braid (braiding the hair in two strips is the most signature hairstyle in school) my hair just like she braided hers. Even until the day I left India, the class stayed quite, gave me a bunch of bashful smiles and was not exactly referred to as “Min”. But rather, something more than just “Min” and I guess for them, that was a sister or “Didi” as they used to call me.   

 

 

 

The Picture of Dorian Gray - Chapter 1

Although the first chapter may seem to simply depict the characteristics of the novels' major characters: Basil and Lord Henry, it actually bears a significant function of introducing most of the major themes of the book.

Throughout the chapter, the beauty of nature is repetitively praised an enjoyed by both the characters. Such as when depicting the atmosphere of the plot, the author uses sentences like "the heavy scent of lilac, or the more delicate perfume of the pick-flowering thorn," (p5) "honey-colored blossoms of a laburnum... producing a kind of momentary Japanese effect."(p5) Also, the nature draws a parallel line with the characters' state much like "The wind shook some blossoms from the tress, and the heavy lilac-blossoms, with their clustering stars, moved to and fro in the languid air..... Lord Henry felt as if he could hear Basil Hallward's heart beating...."(p9) or "How pleasant it was in the garden!"(p15)

The concept of beauty is one of the issued topics discussed by Basil and Lord Henry. In the lines "But beauty, real beauty, ends where an intellectual expression begins,"(p6) Henry suggests that beauty is the subject of intellect and thus responds to Basil: "Don't flatter yourself, Basil: you are not in the least like him."(p7) Here, Henry considers Basil, an intellectual being, not as a beautiful being like Dorian. Then, Lord Henry stresses the concept of beauty contrasting beauty and intelligence even more by saying "there is no doubt Genius lasts longer than Beauty."(p14)

Perhaps the most important theme that may continue later in the plot is "secrecy" mentioned several times in the chapter. Somewhere in his conversation with Henry, Basil refuses to exhibit his picture by saying "I am afraid that I have shown in it the secret of my own soul."(p8) Basil talks of secrecy even more by admitting his desire for secrecy - "I have grown to love secrecy....The commonest thing is delightful if one only hides it."(p7)

Of the last words of Basil towards the end of the chapter, there is a slight foreshadowing of what is to happen in the following chapters as Basil tells Lord Henry "Do not spoil him. Don't try to influence him. Your influence would be bad."(p16)

Other than the themes noticed above, there are still many more concepts to be discussed about in the first chapter; for instance, the hints of this novel as a Faustian tale. However, such things will certainly be carried into further discussion as the plot develops and important incidents take place.

 

Getting "Self-Catfished"

When I say "I got 'self-catfished'," a lot of people would think “Oh, she fooled herself by acting like someone she wasn’t, got in some sort of trouble, learned a lesson and finally became honest and truly found herself.” Well, I must say “Yes” and “No.” Yes, I fooled myself, but not by making myself fake, but by making up and believing in nothing but the “fake figures” of people around me. As for Vince Pierce, the catfish is needed for such reasons. 

“And I thank god for the catfish 

because we would be droll, 

boring 

and dull 

if we didn't have somebody nipping at our fin."

 As for me, I couldn’t treat others without making them all into a bunch of catfishes.

 The first person I catfished was my sister. Not only was she the first, but she was the most ideal, and the most perfected person that I had made up. Having long, boring train trips every weekend, my sister and I had no other friends than each other to play with. (My mom and dad were weekend couples) And as a kid, my 3-year older sister was a little hero to me. To me, she was the best among her age, very pretty with long silky black hair, but at the same time very strong with the firmest fist (she had a black belt in taekwondo). She also read really thick books and solved the most complex mathematics. However, the “perfect figure” of my sister shattered when we came back from the United States. My sister applied for “Chungshim”, a foreign language middle school, and actually got rejected from their interviews. As a fifth grader, I felt betrayed because as a “straight A” student, I couldn’t believe that she didn’t do well enough to get accepted. I felt catfished by the catfish that I, myself, had created upon my sister.

 For a while, I was too disappointed to face my sister like I used to. All my respect and expectations were gone with the “betrayal.” One after another, I started examining more and more flaws of hers. She actually was really bad at math, her long silky hair was not so much silky after all, and she was no longer stronger than I was. In the end, I obviously had to accept her flaws as she was my own sister and the fact that I loved her didn’t change no matter what. But still, it was a very big impact that enlightened me to see how I easily “get catfished by making others into a catfish.”

 Although you can’t particularly say that I got in a trouble for getting catfished, but I certainly learned a lesson from it. And yes, I still have a small tendency to set up “figures” in my minds for those around me and get disappointed every time somebody deviates, but at least now, I have my eyes and ears wide open to flaws I can find.

Perhaps, I clearly explained it now. How to get “Self-Catfished.

Parenting

“Mommy! We’re done brushing our teeth”

excitedly cried out the two little girls in their pajamas.

“You sure?”

asked the mother with a suspicious look.

The four little eyes trembled for half a second but once again they answered

“Yes. We did!”

back at their suspecting mother. The two girls happily went to bed with a victorious satisfaction from having fooled their mother to think they actually brushed their teeth. When actually, all they did was vigorously scrub the tiles for 3 minutes with their strawberry flavored toothpaste.

After tucking in her girls, the tired mother let out a silent sigh and turned on the bathroom light, trying not to make any noise. It was a matter of seconds before she spotted what she was searching for. Another sigh came out as she started cleaning up the “strawberry scented” bubbles off the floor.

 

‘Oh my gosh, I didn’t know she knew’

I thought to myself with my eyes widened. Then a second later, my eyes got even bigger as I thought,

‘Oh yeah! A few days after that, my sister and I got brand new electric toothbrushes!’

It was true. The new toothbrushes with colorful Disney characters printed, that made us brush out teeth three times a day.

‘But what is going on? Why are they showing me my childhood here?’

I thought, since I was there to watch a movie. I decided to wait a little longer with patience for the “real thing” to start.

 

“I DID NOT STEAL IT!!”

Cried out of a furious rage, so loudly that it almost echoed throughout the office.

“Five of your classmates accused you of the same thing. All of them came to me and told me that YOU sneaked Jerry’s pen from his pencil case.”

The teacher now seemed annoyed; it was half-an-hour past her work time.

 “Never mind, I don’t think this quarrel with you is worth anything Sue. I’ll have to call your mom and have her come over to school tomorrow. Go home, have a good nights sleep before the parent-teacher meeting tomorrow.”

Listening to her teacher say her last words, Sue’s face now went red to purple. Sue couldn’t breathe because she felt that every breath she lets out would consist of “F-words.”

“Oh. One more question before you leave. Does your mom even speak English? Because if she doesn’t, I….”

“Goodnight Ms’Ruckert”

Then she slammed the door behind her as she heard her mother’s voice over the phone of her “so-called” teacher.

 

The girl arrived at home. She locked the door, she didn’t think about anything not talk to anybody. She just went to sleep when the clock read 6p.m. and woke up when it read 12 p.m. She burst out of bed to see if it really was 12 “P.M.” The living-room clock blinked the same number 12p.m. and the sunlight was bright behind the curtains. Her mothers’ bag was gone along with her sneakers. Obviously, she went to see the teacher.

 

Nothing happened that night. Just that the next day, all my friends came to me and apologized as well as Ms.Ruckert. I didn’t know what was going on until Ms.Ruckert called me after class.

 

“Sue. We found the real theft.”

The girl didn’t say anything.

“We are all so sorry as we said. By the way, you should really love your mom. I almost got moved by the trust your mom has upon you.”

 

Oh that teacher. She hated me for being a Korean, and I hated her for hating me as a Korean. But then again I remembered. That incident never appeared ever again in your life. Not in our supper tables or Sunday mornings.

 

Rrrrrrrr…

I burst my eyes open. It was so clear that it didn’t feel like a dream at all. In front of me, the movie was still running. A man and an woman kissing away. I paused the movie. The movie that I put on to calm down my anger. Then I remembered, I was in a fight with Jenny. Jenny, my first daughter who got grounded for having skipped her academy today. She obviously went to play with her first boyfriend. I felt so betrayed that I couldn’t think of anything else. But now having realized what a relationship of a “mother and daughter” should be like. A relationship full of suspicion, betrayal, disappointment, forgiveness, and promises. But in the end, all those were what gave tons of trust between a mother and her daughter too.

I slowly walked to Jenny’s room. I saw her sleeping on her bed frowning. I straightened her face and gave her a gentle kiss on her forehead. On my way out, I found her diary wide open. A sharp temptation pierced through me. A devil whispered in my ears

‘Pick it up…Read it’

But right before I picked it up, the “strawberry bubbles” and Ms.Ruckert stopped me.

I decided to let her off the hook this time although I thought I saw, no I knew there were, some inappropriate words scribbled on there.

 

As I walked out of the pink door I thought,

 

Jenny would get over this time.

 

Then Jenny and I would share the love.

The love that my mom and I had built upon my darkest days of puberty.  

 

 

The First one to Apologize Has It All

As a child, I was taught “The one to apologize first is the one to win.” So since I was six, I became friendlier with the word “sorry” and in whatever fight I got in, the victory was mine. Well of course I didn’t apologize without any reason (that would be lacking too much sincerity), I thought apologizing was the first step in untying the knot of misconception.

For 65 years North Korea and South Korea has been wrestling, like two little kids in a silly arm-wrestling match that yields no winners in the end. After drawing a line on the waist of a tiny country, we have been threatening each other to make Seoul and Pyongyang into a “sea of flames.” However, who is "South Korea"? Is it the South Korean government?  Or is it the military, president, or the people of South Korea? There is no correct answer to this question, but I know there is something better than figuring out who “South Koreans” are. That is, to end the fight in the first place. How? By fixing the misconceptions between North and South microscopically. I think it is time for us, individuals, to change our thoughts, offer the handshake of peace, and win this game by changing South Korea inside out.  

“U.S. official: North Korea could test firemissiles at any time”- this was the title of the head article posted on the CNN website on April 10, 2013. On the same day, the day that professionals assumed most likely for the missile to be launched, I have been asked the same question from the moment I woke up, until the instant I went back to sleep. The question my roommates, classmates and teachers asked me was, “Does your dad really say there is going to be an attack today?” (My dad works for the South Korean Army) I obviously couldn’t answer any of the questions, because I never actually asked my dad, but I realized that the huge amount of questions I received told me something about our conception towards North Korea. We actually feared North Korea for their aggressive attitude and provocation.

 

However, where is the provocation exactly coming from? Is it Kim Jung Un? Perhaps the news anchors with the threatening tone? Or the citizens in North Korea? Well, I certainly think it is not the citizens we fear and hate. Therefore, there should be no obstacle in changing our perspective towards the individuals in the North. In fact, I have a personal experience of meeting one, and even building a relationship with her family.  

When I was in nine years old and living in the states, I was lucky enough to meet a nine-year-old girl from North Korea. One night, I have even been invited to her house, to join her for supper with her entire North Korean family. It was only a few months after realizing that she was not just a “Korean” but actually a “North Korean.” For about two years, we went to the same school, lived in the same neighborhood, waved hands passing by, and became close enough to call each other friends. Nevertheless, it was on the day of “International fairs”, that I figured out her nationality after saw her under the North Korean flag, selling “Pyongyang dumplings.” It took me quite a while to digest the situation but I eventually overcame my internal dilemma and decided to keep her in my boundary of close friends. As close friends, we had “sleep-over” at each other’s houses’, our mothers arranged play-dates together, and we shared homemade dishes at potlucks. In addition, there are so many other memories, all of which switched an enemy into a potential friend.

         The most common misconception, perhaps, towards the North Koreans is that the people are all brainwashed by the government. Therefore, they can’t consider the South Koreans or any foreigners as friends. However, there is a counter example to this claim. The most famous case is that of James Joseph Dresnok, American defector to North Korea who defected at the age of 21. The documentary film “Crossing the line” shows Dresnok’s life in North Korea as an American. Here in the documentary, Dresnok introduces his North Korean “buddies” with whom he enjoys fishing and smoking together with.

         I remember watching a TED video in class, about an Israeli poster designer who was issued for uniting Israel and Iran with a poster saying “WE Israelis love Iranians” As an individual, he managed to open the gate of communication between the people of the two fighting countries, and all he did was post a poster on Facebook . Due to this, enemies started contacting each other one-to-one, chatting online, and becoming friends, clearing out misconceptions and hatred they have had for such a long time. 

Although directly communicating with the North Koreans through Facebook doesn’t seem realistic, changing our perspectives or clarifying the misconception we have with the North Koreans is just about enough for now. Henceforth, South Korea will start changing inside-out, and when the change turns out successful, we can consider changing North Koreans inside-out as well. As I said in the beginning, even a kindergartener knows better than to fight with friends and not apologize. So I suggest that we win this. Be brave to step forward and say “Let’s be friends again.”

Dilemma

You encounter a dilemma. Would you appeal to the authority? Or would you appeal to your loved ones? Here, by “appealing” I mean simply, smiling to them more often, putting more of your effort in making them feel better whenever they seem down, and wishing to show them only the best of yourself.

 The authority could come in many different forms. It could be your seniors (compared to juniors), teachers (opposed to friends), and the crowd (rather than an individual). Now it seems like you have a bunch of dilemmas to solve. But we all know that the “authority” comes in one big group, and the “loved ones” in the other. We also acknowledged that it is not easy to choose one, perhaps the “crowd”, from this group, then another separately, maybe your “friends”, from the other group.

 Both choices brings side-effects. Therefore, the smarter ones will choose whatever brings them less pain in the end.

 I once had a friend who gave me the answers to end my dilemma. To be straight forward, she was the one who chose the authority over her loved ones. She would be rather an outcast among her grade, but the “memorable” kid among the upper graders. She would treat you like an invisible person when alone with just the two of us, but as soon as the crowd walks in, she would suddenly put on a smile as if it was there the entire time. She would never appear on individual chats, but put much effort to attract everyone’s attention on group chats. As a result, most teachers and seniors praised her for always being bright, hard working, but at the same time, being the top student in class. Even those of the same grade got successfully fooled, but actually her closest people, including myself, started to get hurt, tired, and betrayed by her “show.” I myself, who believed me to be one of her “loved ones” eventually, turned my back on her as well.

She lived a one efficient life, and to that, we all can’t disagree. Perhaps up to a certain point, she might be satisfied at having become the top student, the most famous student, the club leaders, and so on. Killing three, four birds with one stone. However, she’ll realize by the end that the one thing she missed out on was worth more than all of the others put together.

The side effects of not appealing to the authority are obvious. Not becoming the most popular student, failing to get chosen as the leader, and the list goes on. You might not be able to become the top student even, because appealing to your “loved ones” requires time, effort, and most of all, your honesty, which might leave you with less time to focus on other things.

 Now, weighing the pain of the each side effect, I’ll have to leave it up to you.   

Go ahead! Pick a name

I always thought, inside our mother’s womb, as a fetus, “Why couldn’t we decide our own features and characteristics to live with?” Let there be a vending machine with all sorts of adjectives to choose from. Then I would have chosen “big” for my eyes and “tall” for my height. How nice! However, the reality made me end up with small eyes and the height tall enough to let most of my friends view the very top of my head. Obviously you are not allowed to choose your own looks, your height, nor your personality. Then what about your name? Couldn’t we at least get to pick those by our personal preference?


It is not that I woke up this morning, suddenly got the feeling that the name I already have is lame or, all of a sudden, felt the need to defy against my parents that I decided to change my name from “Sumin” to “Eli.” Actually, I have been thinking about this for quite a few years now. So, out of all the names that exist, or maybe not even exist, why did I choose Eli?

Eli, although same for all the other names as well, has lengthy meanings behind it posted on Google, Wikipedia, and Baby-naming sites. According to Wikipedia, the name Eli means “’God is exalted’ or height” and Google says “Eli means 'ascension' in Hebrew. In the Old Testament he is the high priest of Israel and the teacher of Samuel." In England, Eli has been used as a Christian given name since the Protestant Reformation. The naming site "Firstnamestore” even has a precise and professional prophecy explained for the name Eli. For example, did you know that the personality of Eli is supposed to be “sincere, and no one doubts him”? Well, I didn’t know just until now.

Since I was eight years old, the name “Eli”, not in terms of “EE-li” but in terms of “short for ‘Eli-zabeth’”, has had a significant meaning for me. “Eli” was the first and the last friend I ever had in my first school I went to in the US. Although I got to attend the school for only 3 months, then transferred to another school due to family issues, the 90 days of school felt “hell-like” to me. Walking through the big, metal door into the hallway full of 400 little boys and girls of blue colored eyes and yellow hair (their eyes all fixed on me), then into the classroom of 40 so-called “class mates”, sitting in the chair, 1 meter (feeling more like 20) away from my friend, I felt like I was the little black stain on a pure white surface. I was called the “mute girl”, invited to parties but rejected the next day, asked to do home works of which were not mine, called “disabled”. However, then came Eli, with the remote control, she came to me and “un-muted” me. On the first day of school, during my first lunchtime, she came to me with a great big smile, and asked me to help her open her bag of pizza. The “helping hand” she asked me for that day was actually the biggest “helping hand” that she offered to me. I still remember the cute poem I wrote in English class just before I left the school. It went “Eli, my Elevator, she bring me up”

I don’t know what the mothers and fathers out there thought of when they named their baby “Eli” but I can say somewhere far back in name dictionary, I can find “string of hope” below the name “Eli”