Playing cards

     You are under extreme stress. You have a few hours after the exam and a few hours before the next. You know no letters would make any sense to you, and that you'd prefer sleeping or doing anything else but study. You turn your laptop on, wondering if there is something new that you can do. Your obvious choice is the Internet. The place you can read, write, play games, or watch movies. A place nothing restricts whatever you were to do.

A scene from Solitaire 1 suit

     That is the prologue - how I got to know this game. Solitaire 1 suit. The sole goal of this game is to stack the cards in the right order. K-Q-J-10-9-8-7-6-5-4-3-2-A. Eight stacks. The cards were shuffled, and like The Tower of Hanoi, they could not be moved to be stalked against the order.

     The winning strategy of the game is seemingly simple - create all the piles of cards to be in order so that every card set would be in order always, ready to be put into combinations. Yet this method does not work in all cases. In fact, it is the easiest way for you to lose in this game. The ironic thing is that the best tactic is to put all possible cards in order but make the stacks if possible. And in this way, it is necessary to destroy the previously organized order of cards.

     Of course, if lucky, the player has no need to make extra movements to make the stacks be in order. Yet the tendency is that in order to get a higher score, it is better to break what was previously accomplished. Nothing is ever guaranteed to come in order. Not only the sequence of random cards, but life events are also randomly given out. But if they are all put behind so that they could be handled later, it is more likely that they are lost before they can be seized.

A chance is like a flying bird.

Spinoza 

Reminiscence

     I remember that cold winter evening. I remember I had absolutely no idea what I was doing, or was about to do. I remember, inside my mind played the usual Mozart Violin Concerto No. 3, played by Hilary Hahn, the one I have been listening for the whole past semester. I remember that I remembered Hahn played the piece for the pope's birthday, live-broadcasted around the globe. I remember the memory discomforting me even more in my unusual black dress, holding my instrument with hands wet from sweat, staring at rows of portable seats that were empty a few hours before. I remember catching some familiar glances filled with excitement - and instinctively turning away from them. I remember the stage was bright - so bright that everyone had to squint to see - but the air was freezing cold, while my back felt so hot from the self-heating pads which my mom attached while I dressed in my new clothes. I remember, my heart raced.

     Have you ever felt as if you were born again, completely new to your life? You are as you were, but suddenly the world is silenced - leaving your heartbeat - that 'lub dub' - sound louder than ever. You know you have not passed out, that the world still has colors besides white, and that you are still the same 'you', but everything seems so new. The school gym you used to know even before you got to school, the members of the orchestra that you have been playing music with for at least two years, the conductor whom you have definitely fought with the most for the past couple months, and yourself reflected in the looking-glass. You are so new - but that is not because your mind is so blank, it is just that everything changed to be made suitable for the day. Is this so important, you wonder, for all these people to be busied, just for the event? But soon some important-looking figures arrive, wearing their suits so black that you wonder if they were absorbing all the colors existing. You glance at your friend, who mouths you "the mayor". You roll your eyes - since when were classical music concerts so interesting for so many people to come? Since when was the government so interested in our school that they decide to come, dedicate on the night of the brink of the year? Unwillingly accepting the reality, you go back to the stage, playing that video of Hahn displaying the delicate memory again and again inside your mind. You know nothing really happened, but feel the temperature dropping as the night approaches.

     I find the percussion team waiting for their stage. Their giggles irritated me - maybe it derived from their confidence in performing. Maybe it was because it was their first time receiving so much attention. Maybe it was because they had no solos, but were sharing the spotlight. I could not guess which was the answer, but felt my heart racing harder every second. Perhaps a last-minute practice might help, I thought to myself, and started fingering the notes on my violin. But time flew, soon I was on stage, and discovered everything ended as I was playing the last note. Oh no, I'm totally screwed was my first thought. Maybe no one heard me play. Hopefully no one will remember. Maybe it all was a dream. Maybe when I wake up, everything will be fine, and I would have another chance to play it better.

     If one could feel the time stop, that was when I felt it stop. Everything was so still for a moment. My face was red and hot, more than anything for a moment. Then slowly the clap began. The audience clapped for a moment. I caught a few smiles from some familiar faces. For a while.

     I have no remembering how I played that night. I was unwilling to find out, though I did have a video clip, and probably never will. But I can say this for sure - that the experience was so strong, and that I will remember the night.

Monday has feelings.

     Mondays are hard. The good thing is, everyone feels the same. The bad thing is, there is no remedy for the so-called 'disease'. There even is a song <월요병가> (by Stella Jang) complaining the hardness of starting Monday after the sweetness of weekend. It is obvious - Mondays are hard for everyone.

     But things can be worse than Mondays - when we talk about Sunday evenings. The dilemma between nice feeling from the memory of weekend and anxiety deriving from fear of what has to come conflict, and result in the ultimate dread of time passing. It is then when you realize the singularity that Sunday is both the day you wish to come and at the same time fear its arrival.

     Are chances worth missing, in fear of performing worse? Harper Lee, the author of To Kill a Mockingbird said she could not publish other novels since she was afraid of writing a less successful novel. Some do say that it might have been better if she had not published Go Set a Watchman - a novel she wrote before publishing To Kill a Mockingbird - but who knows if she might have wrote a even better novel than To Kill a Mockingbird.

The purpose of life is to live it, to taste experience to the utmost, to reach out eagerly and without fear for newer and richer experience.

- Eleanor Roosevelt 

Sixteen Going On Seventeen

The Von Trapp children singing So Long, Farewell

     I remember the first time I watched Sound of Music. Though it was involuntary, I was amazed how so many songs I knew were from this movie and how the actors had such beautiful voices, despite their young age. Of all the songs, I was most impressed by the duet of a young but unfortunate couple.

     The lyrics of the melodies sung under the gazebo were simple - about a sixteen-going-on-seventeen girl singing about her naiveness compared to a seventeen-going-on-eighteen boy. Their innocence in love is what makes the story more enchanting. While watching the movie, I promised myself that I would watch this scene again when I reach this age, see time shifting my age from 16 to 17. Now that I see the shift listening to the music, mixed feelings come to me.

     When I was younger, I believed that I would never be so older to become one of the seniors or adults I know. At least I thought I would have been smart enough to be able to escape any situations I am stranded in, such as that I would be smart enough to elude such stance by attaining abnormal abilities, like being able to fly. Unfortunately, I now am old enough to figure out such things are impossible. 

     Every time I face my birthday, this sudden urge of not wanting to leave the Neverland suddenly dominates me, giving me ideas to make my birthday disappear. One of the ways was to name 31st of November (which apparently does not exist) as my birthday (and that is how this blog got its name, trente-et-un (31st) novembre (November)). But it occurred to me, and I realized that I am afraid of my birthday and the fact that I am getting older but at the same time am desiring to face my birthday.

All children, except one, grow up.

J. M. Barrie, Peter Pan 

     Becoming older means responsibilities. The numerous situations where choices will make you pay for it. Though some people need to work on being a better adult and adulting, it certainly is one of the things people just refuse to face.

     But at the same time, it is the door that leads to a totally new thing, opening your eyes and perhaps making you feel like a stranger. Having many responsibilities and fulfilling them allows the individual to make own decisions and be trusted. This is why to espouse the awkward feeling of birthday.

     I like to name my birthday the premiere of the finale. A bittersweet ending, but the period to embrace a whole new world.

Dear FutureMe,

Dear FutureMe,

      Hi. I know you don't receive so many letters, especially from the future, especially from yourself. I know you're stressed out right now, perhaps reluctant to read a letter written in a foreign language, at this time of the year. But no worries, this is no novel with a complex device in it, more unlikely a question with answers to choose from. It's just another diary-ish flashback to yourself a year ago.

     This time of the year, you used to suffer from a deep consideration of your future. You were distressed from your favorite task of the semester - enrolling your courses. Yes, you've spent a lot of time today to run around, looking for the best combination you can take. You've also tried to escape the clichē of biology/chemistry major students by your openness to "weird" subjects, even if it meant taking more AP and English courses than international field students. Your major concerns were no longer whether you should have lunch or not, but what you were going to do for a living. Pretty depressing, huh? But it was a difficult question for a sixteen-going-on-seventeen.

     Sixteen-going-on-seventeen. I never thought such an age would ever come. Neither did I believe I would be so naive, and the young couple from Sound of Music were not wrong about being too naive and young to understand any of the topics they were discussing. The point here is that I don't believe that a seventeen-going-on-eighteen would be much more intelligent than herself a year ago. It isn't about that I have low expectations, but it's simple justification on how I'm not putting pressure on you, future self of me.

     As I hereby head back to the dorm after music festival, I sense how my high school life is facing the end at last. It is already your third time visiting the same concert hall. First time as a newbie of the audience, the second as a violinist of the orchestra, the last as 가야금 player of the class. Two years ago, you sat on that seat, filled with entusiasm toward your future and sunbaes who were performing. In the same red seat you sat, it strikes you that it's likely that this is the last time you will ever visit the place again. The position behind the red curtain make you feel somewhat nervous and hyper at the same time.
   
     You were always an introvert, but that never stopped you from performing. On stage, you always changed - to an artist painting a scene of the play, coloring it around as you will. No one could ever find the look of the fragile heart of a girl, whose eyes were full of tears because one of the teachers got angry because her voice was too small. A random flashback to 10th grade by a conversation with your history teacher, but I am sure you remember them by your heart. And all the performances you had, including what it took to give such a show. The first talent show you ever had. The very play you designed with your friends on your 5th grade. The very first winning of the competition that my orchestra always lost, which was brought by you as the concertmaster, though it required you to practice a few hours every 6 am. With all these memories aroused, I wonder what you are feeling now. Perhaps you've forgotten them for too long time.

     Though you may not have realized, there are more things you have achieved during your life. To begin with, you have survived. For seventeen years. Despite the numerous attempts world has made to threat you. Secondly, you've completed your education. A lot of people quit or cannot afford to continue their pursuit of knowledge, which shows you are both lucky and talented perhaps. The list can go on forever, which is the reason the letter omits the rest. On the stage and under it, so many things happened.

*Note. This is a letter to myself, written on 11/18/19. Via site www.futureme.org, anyone can freely set delivery to future self.

On Happiness 1

     I would not likely call myself a bibliophile. I do love afternoon reading with a coffee and falling asleep with a lamp turned on, light shone over the book that my hands still hold. Yet I was not the type of student who voluntarily talked to the librarian, looked for recommendations, or wrote about a book I read. I did not believe a single book could change my life.

     That was only until I started to work at the school library in my middle school.

     Not exactly work, as it was performed in the form of volunteering work. I never wanted to do it either, as I feared librarians (due to a bad memory of ringing alarms in my youth). Long story short, the library needed more people to work, and one of my friends (yes, I did have some friends) asked me to apply, as he thought I was suitable for the job. (Later I found out that it was only because the library was the only place I could be seen during school vacation.) It turned out to be better than I thought. Though there were days I headed home two hours later my school dismissed, I still loved to plunge myself into the bookshelf, helping books find their places. Eventually, I began to like Fridays, the day I did my volunteer work.

     Friday was not my only reason to love volunteer work. I loved planning events for the library (the librarian liked my ideas, she actually helped to make it come true on my 9th grade). I loved being able to borrow 5 books at once, just because I was one of the people working there. I loved the treats given after the work and little chit-chats on the week passed by. But mostly, I liked the treasure hunt among the long aisles of bookshelves.

     One of the books I found during my volunteer was <Happiness Is ... : 500 things to be happy about (해피니스: 몰랐던, 잊었던, 작은 행복 500가지)> by Lisa Swerling and Ralph Lazar. The content is pretty straight-forward - this book is on the little items that brighten our daily lives, and the writers show how to pay gratitude to them. There are more books in series; about 500 ways to be happy on the moment, 500 ways to show how I love you, and 3-year-journal on how to be happy every day.

     Some contents seem inappropriate in every day happiness - I cannot afford to take luxurious baths every day. There were things seemingly repetitive; I saw no difference between 'twerking' and 'dancing'. However, just by having the book on my hands filled my mind with delight. I am sure I was happy, at least on the moment I was reading the book.

     I haven't thought about this book after graduation, the last time talked to the librarian. I couldn't see her more, as she seemed to have left school (which was sad, considering all vacation camps I participated). Today one of the videos on YouTube recommended me reminded of the sweet afternoon breeze that passed through my nose and eyes as I flipped the pages.

     A note I wrote on that date showed how amazed I was by how there were so many things a person can write in the book that instantly made the reader smiling. I was also amazed that the book had no explanations, but only several words describing each picture. And I was in awe, overwhelmed by the feeling I experienced.

     Back then, I doubted if gratitude (and gratitude journal) actually helped people feel better about their lives and feel happier. I did enjoy thanking events in my daily life, but I thought that it was somewhat obvious to have such feeling and that happiness should be somewhat grand, derived from a massive emotional climax of a meticulous plot. As I recall this book today, I feel as if I had been neglecting the value of happiness - the slightest joy that brightened my life.


     Every Two Set video uploaded on YouTube, comments made by my favorite artists, reply from one of my role models.

     A short walk with my friend, perfect dines with perfect mates, a pack of cold chocolate milk completing the tiring week.

     Photos taken at the perfect moment, short conversations after role-call, homework done in time without staying up all night.


     There were more things filling my life with contents than I thought.

Observation of an Amateur Artist

Colored draft of mango, drawn by the writer.

     What is this fruit? Anyone? anyone? Though it is modified for drawing and its colors are relatively faint to the real fruit, it is mango. The cut-open version of mango may be familiar, as it is the 'normal' version of mango we see. The leaf on top may seem surprising - I never expected mango leaf to be so long, and it to have such gradient of color, shading from light orange to deep red. But as I delved deeper in search of the actual form of mango in its raw state, I found that mango was more interesting fruit that I thought.

White and black version of unripe mango, drawn by the writer.

     Mango trees have droopy stems that look like willow trees. They have long stems ending with long leaves, somehow reminding the lazy atmosphere of a random afternoon. Their dotted stems stretch out, and it almost looks as if they are about to reach the ground again. Comparing the image of trees and their gradual change in its gradient, it occurred to me how different the fruit actually was compared to the "image" of mango I previously had inside my mind.

     Thinking about it, it was weird seeing a fruit I love from a different perspective. Not only that the un-yellow fruit was a new sight, but the fact that it grew on a tree and was a 'fruit' seemed new. All the mango I have known were in containers, often cut into cubes, squeezed to make juice, or condensed into specks of dust to be smelled. I realized how the fruit was unknowingly losing its name and became silent. Its voice recovered only as someone came to observe its beauty again.

Human Test - developed by robots

     Can AI dominate human society? A cliché question without answers. The definition of 'AI' itself is also vague, as the boundaries of 'robot' and individual thinking systems are ambiguous. But the absence of definition cannot be the insurance for it to stay as the subordinates. Why am I pondering upon this endless question? It all started the day I failed the CAPTCHA test for the fifth time.

     It was that day, where a sudden CAPTCHA test demanded me to prove myself as a human being during login. The simple identification required me to click on all blocks containing signs. Abrupt indeed, but challenge accepted. The immediate dilemma was to whether include the block with the tiny fraction of sign or not. My mouse hovered over the block. Faltering for a moment or two, I absentmindedly clicked on the block, submitted it.

     Try again.

     Dumbfound, I clicked again. I thought I had finished clicking on all blocks with bus when the notice told me, 'Try again'.

     So that is how I was rejected from logging into my account, accused of being a robot.

"Failed to prove human. Reason: Lack of humanity"

Scene from a Korean cartoon <퓨리스틱>
https://comic.naver.com/webtoon/detail.nhn?titleId=733771&no=3&weekday=sat

     The irony is that CAPTCHA is also a robot. It is a maze designed by men to trap the non-men using a non-man method. Is it effective? Recently a 'lying robot' had slyly ticked off the CAPTCHA box without any oppression. In its first trial. This again left me dumbfound, because I read this article after my series of unsuccessful login trials.

     CAPTCHA is not the only trap designed for humans. Many other tools 'made to aid human activities' are in reality acting as oppressions. Nobody trusted a spelling checker or grammar editor like Grammarly in the past. Now students are using them to perfect their final drafts. One of my friends actually admitted that his scores are better when he writes his paper in his mother tongue, uses a translator, and uses a grammar editor. Whatever information is already in the robots, or has been incluated, now has become the wires of the cage in defining what is 'right' in human activity.

     Let us talk a little more about my friend. How could he get better grades by the assistant of the artificial assistants? I asked my other friends, who told me that his teacher always preferred the Grammarly-edited version of writing. Some suspected that it was actually used in the procedure of grading - another opinion was that his teacher may have been 'tamed' into the Grammarly-refined form essay, and since the machine helped keeping the consistency, the essay turned out to be much more 'static'. This was not just happening in his classes. Newspaper clubs would use such checkers instead of cross-proofreading. BonPatron and Duolingo, both developed by data science, have been my best friend when studying French. Google Translate was widely used to convert the English textbook into Korean version, which would have never been purchasable. 

Before I realized, the whole campus was dominated by artificial intelligence.

     Yes, machine-dependency may sound like trustworthy insurance, but maybe it is time to take a step back and think again, aren't we relying on it too hard?

The New Hunger Games

Happy Hunger Games! And may the odds be ever in your favor.

Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

     The modern dystopian novel Hunger Games feature the society hosting annual games which can only end by the death of 23 teenagers. The brutal game allows one to be the final winner, who is at the same time the only survivor of the event.

     The Hunger Games seem to be a violent but fair game. Every event follows the rule: the survival of the fittest. The crown goes to the most clever, strongest, and bravest of all. Those who have been trained to be the fittest, like the ones from District 1 or 2, are obviously much more suitable for the game. At least this is what the game seems to be.

     In reality, the Hunger Games is the survival of the fittest but also run by politics. The players from each district are sponsored from every action made in the game, which is unmistakably also affected by their home districts. All are filmed 24/7, and there is no way to escape the broadcast. The best way to win the game is to be loved by the sponsors, to stay fit, and cruelly deceive others.

     Describing it like a life-death matter, the games seem like a distant and barbaric matter. Yet this is not so different from what we see in our daily lives. Placing oneself before the camera has become a prevalent culture. Watching them, commenting, and sharing thoughts are common reactions to it - regardless of platform, on Instagram, Youtube, Facebook, and etc. A lot of people chose to take the road as their career - in recent years there has been a huge increase in YouTubers and celebrities. And when the broadcasting becomes forced and uncontrollable, that's when the person loses control on themselves.

     Though no one is safe from this new 'Big Brother', celebrities would be the most prone to this new Hunger Games. Respected to be consumed, every aspect of life is watched. The places they go, things they eat, words they say are observed and written down, to be consumed again later on. Indeed, it is the path they chose, yet not many end up being satisfied. A lot suffer from anxiety and panic disorder, not to mention that many end up committing suicide.

     Although the 'Big Brother' may have triggered this situation, it was not it, but the consumer's actions that led to the status quo.

     'Big Brother' only plays the role of broadcasting the games. It is the customers who look for the content, enjoy, and rate them. The fault lies in no one - there are only rights given, no responsibilities. In other words, the celebrity who exposes thyself is the sole person to undertake all the burden created.

     In Hunger Games, Katniss tries to commit suicide with Peeta when the director of games would not let both of them live. This public couple's 'fake' suicidal attempt symbols many things - it indeed may be a simple trick to gain public attention and to create the universal sympathy, but it also might have represented the will to escape the situation that they have 'voluntarily' entered.

    The Hunger Games may have not intended to devour the lives of the participants, but it is evident that the results are turning out to be fatal to at least, someone in the cycle. Yet, it is evident that real life is no Omelas - there is no need for setting new tributes to the modern Hunger Games.

Proud and Prejudiced

I could easily forgive his pride, if he had not mortified mine.

Jane Austen, Pride and Prejudice

     I am definitely one of the privileged. Yes, that I know for sure even by the simple fact that I go to one of the leading schools in the nation. But even without that, in general, I would agree: my life has been success-skewed.

     I remember when the admission officer from a Korean college who asked us, “after all, you guys all have experienced failure, no?” He probably would have expected us to have applied to other science high schools and failed, as a result, ended up here. I, was not the case. I have successfully achieved my dream of attending one of the so-called elite high schools (though it depends on what the person thinks), which was my primary 'dream school'. I was offended by the admission officer’s proud trial to regard my school as an alternative to the best.

     Is defining my life as success-skewed a proud action? Stating that my life is success-skewed does not mean it is failure-proof. I would say that I was prone to failure as much as anyone was. The first 'failure' that impacted me occurred in my 8th grade when I could not get into a science club in my school. I was annoyed, feeling that I was equivalent to the new members embraced to the club. I thought I deserved better, and that there was nothing that made me inferior to them. The next year I applied again, and using the famous and fancy example of Le Chatelier's principle in my interview, successfully impressing the club members (which sounds funny because what I said was more of a simple science trick). Soon I forgot what my first 'failure' felt like and never did it bother me.

     The second experience of 'failure' was similar to the prior, which happened in my 10th grade. Being new to the school and again facing the club interviews, all the students in my school seemed superior. Ironically the majority of the students were depressed, already regarding themselves as a life-long loser. But soon things got better, everything was okay again, and everyone overcame their stress.

     But then, can I address it as a failure if the recovery was so easy? Can failure be so subtle that the experience is fond enough for it to be tear-less and hopeful? On something I recovered so soon that I didn't have time to despair, can it be considered something to have affected my 'life curve'? Yet, what is a failure? Not being admitted to a 'dream college'? After all, the majority of the 7.5 billion population could not attend one of the leading universities but are successfully continuing their lives.

You never fail until you stop trying.

Albert Einstein

     Einstein's words may be valid for a long-term goal, but some opportunities are only open for certain moments. School exams cannot be re-taken. Submitted work cannot be undone. Mentally, there may be no barrier that can impact one's life to the extreme, unless one keeps trying. In reality, that may not be the case. In such terms, a true 'success' cannot exist.

     Yet, Einstein's 'stop trying' can be interpreted as being proud by one's accomplishment. His definition of fail may be what is derived out of the prejudice that one's trivial victory will be durable. In other words, Einstein may be suggesting to be humble and adventurous.

     Success is undefinable, but it can be said that success in life does not refer to failure-dodging life. It would prefer, if possible, a failure-susceptible life. This is also the reason why one shall not be proud nor prejudiced against others' lives. The true success derives from a mindset to accept challenges regardless of success.

Common liverwort, also known as Marchantia polymorpha
Picture taken in school, 2019/06/24

I don't think I'm a Kkondae, so am I one?

     A few days ago, my Facebook newsfeed showed me an interesting post.

BBC Word of the Day for September 23rd, 2019

     Below the comments were:

Never thought I'd find a nickname for my mother in law... 

It's so my mother-in-law who I don't contact anymore

Yes, elderly people claim "to have it all, done it all, seen it all..."

   
     And what struck me was that I did not realize this word was Korean, until I saw a comment explaining the origin and the Korean usage of this word. Some of the Koreans also commented below, explaining the real usage of this word. One person described it as a "slang commonly referring to teachers" while some other person tried to explain it as "a common norm around the world" and that they are "not really proud seeing this as a Korean".

     Fairly enough, BBC did a great job explaining what "Kkondae" is. Proven by the comments on the Facebook post, it is a universal feeling on the people who claim to be superior to you. What some people missed was that 'Kkondaes' don't necessarily point to the elderly, who tell you their hero stories. There are also young kkondaes, who can often be spotted in a vertical society. Everyone can be kkondae everywhere at any time.

     Neuroscience explains old kkondaes as inevitable byproduct of aging. As your brain ages, it is harder for it to make new connections between neurons, which makes it difficult to understand new concepts. As a result, it is common for people to have become conservative. But young kkondaes? Neuroscience doesn't give a good explanation for that.

     A possible reason it suggests instead, is that young kkondaes have suffered to stabilize their lives that they are not fond of the newbies who are following their steps. It is said that the feeling of loss causes them to tend to overestimate what they have done and underestimate the works of a developing person. Some similarize this to the emotions young children face when they have a sibling, since it shares the same emotion of envy towards an innocent being. By this post being universal, it can be said that the feeling is innate and may be inevitable.

     But before being so hasty to judge, is it right to label everyone believing themselves as a right person a kkondae? Quoting from BBC's definition, Kkondae is "an older person who believes they are always right (and you are always wrong)". But in some cases, believing oneself to be right and to correct someone else is needed. Confucius once said, "Those who speak of my good will are those who harm me; those who speak of my bad will are my masters. (道吾善者는 是吾賊이요 道吾惡者는 是吾師니라)" He also emphasizes the importance of introspection and reflection, but these are what are often condemned of, as being a nagging kkondae. But at the same time, introspection and reflection are the way to help set oneself to be right and to guide others to be 'right'.

     One of the comments claimed, "The moment you think you are not kkondae, you are one". So let me ask a question: I don't think I'm a Kkondae, so am I one?

Smile of a Buddhist

And then he gives me a smile that just seems so genuinely sweet with just the right touch of shyness that unexpected warmth rushes through me.

Suzanne Collins, The Hunger Games

     The secret to a happy life is holding a smile on your face, one of my teachers said. Smiles bring you luck, and keep this in mind because it is very important, someday you'll realize. Confused by the abrupt interruption of a life lesson during chemistry class, curiosity filled the mind of students. Some were delighted to have a break from his famous lectures on water, others groaned in expectation in the introduction of another topic about to bore them again.

Mona Lisa by Leonardo da Vinci

     Of course, it is weird to have a wide smile on your face without a reason, he continued, so 'smiling' should be done meticulously. A perfect smile should be like how Mona Lisa is smiling or what the ancient Koreans carved in the rock cliff, he explained, the compromise between peaceful but not too intense beauty. Don't you want to change your lives? Go ahead and try smiling. While the teacher walked around to see if anyone successfully met his demands of displaying the beauty requiring scrupulous attention, laughter filled the office.

서산마애삼존불 (Buddha triad carved on a rock cliff in Gayasan Mountain, Unsan-myeon, Seosan, Chungcheongnam-do) also known as the "Smile of Baekje(백제의 미소)"

     Smiles starting laughter in class are not the ones we are looking for, he said, there are smiles that could be worn casually throughout your daily lives. The class fell silent. I did not know how, too, until a monk at a temple taught me during a temple stay. Everyone should go temple staying, it is the best way to learn the important principles of life. Anyways, the perfect way is to stick your tongue behind your foreteeth. That way, your smile will look calming and assuring, effective than whatsoever.

     A few students burst into waves of laughter, exchanging glances full of sneering. The teacher smiled, understandingly. Someday, he said quietly, you'll realize the power of how smiling can change your life.

     I had been one of the doubting students, agreeing that smiles are important, but not to that extent. What made me suddenly recall this lecture in such a random time and place was a picture on my desk. A picture I took with my friend on the graduation day, whom I haven't seen after he went to a different school. Since then I hadn't been able to contact him, partially because he was busy, and vice versa. Losing the friendly bond that grew between us, a sentence summarized our relationship: It's only because we are high school students. 

     I had to admit, the busy schedule and inhumane amount of tasks given to students enforced complete concentration on schoolwork, nothing else. Eventually, my relationship with my friends weakened. I longed to be at my nook, undisturbed, as I were always at a few years ago.

     Then a faint smile was all that was left, from the photo symboling the childhood reminiscence. The paler it grew, the stronger it became - until the emptiness won over sweetness. I had to admit, I had been neglecting the power of memory reinforcing humanistic bond.

     Though it may come to you in different ways, it is not the 'smiling' that is important, but the mindset to be smiling itself is valuable. My moment has become valuable because of our trials to smile to the camera. Despite that it was a sheer moment we shared, the connection was the catalyst for the blooming of the warmth between us. And that was probably what a monk at the temple understood and was trying to tell my teacher, who tried to also deliver it to us.

How I met my friend, M-M (Modern Message-in-a-Bottle)

     You wake up to find another inbox full of mails. Your phone is full of alarms from Facebook, Kakao Talk, and other apps, which turns out as a mixture of work and hobbies. After taking shower you find more alarms have arrived, but only to find repetitive and irrelevant notices. Probably having missed some important messages, you are frustrated by some trivial and unnecessary alarms messing your phone.

     You get to work, find some missed messages via some conversations, reply to them. You send few more messages notifying important information to those who haven't checked your previous notification. You find inbox exploding once more, frustrated by those who send irrelevant messages and those who do not check important posts you have been notifying everyone about. Soon worn out, you are exhausted from the endless relay of human interaction.

     This was not the way how communication worked in the past. They were slowed down by practical barriers; long distances and illiteracy were the biggest reasons for the delay in delivering information. None of such problems occurred - until Meucci or Bell invented the phone, and Zuckerberg invented Facebook, starting the era of instant exchange.

     You have a notification by App Store. Interested in the new recommendation, you go in to find an app named 'Slowly'. Desiring to change the problem of instant messaging, where writing loses its value more than it deserves, this app delivers the mail to your pen pal after a certain amount of time passes, depending on the sender and receiver's locations. Instead of noisy apps that rings your phone every second, you have a feeling this would be the app you wanted to have.

The Guinness World Record for world's oldest message-in-a-bottle.

      You are reminded of an article you have recently read. Une bouteille à la mer est retrouvée 108 ans plus tard sur une plage de la mer du Nord, or A bottle at the sea is found 108 years later on a beach of the North Sea. The letter was found to have been sent by George Parker Bidder in the early 1900s, in the purpose of studying marine currents. His purpose was related to study, but many others were inspired by his actions, imitating him. In Finland, one retired fisherman sent more than 4,000 bottles of letters and received letters in a high ratio. You were tempted to try if it could be done online. Here you find your chance, you don't hesitate.

     Soon you follow the instructions given by the app, successfully possessing a personal account. A few days later, you receive a message from a total stranger. With some more exchanges taking more than a week to complete, you find someone with similar interest.

     So that's pretty much about how you met Mitrel, your pen friend. You have tried to understand why and how you could get so close to her, despite that you have never seen her.

     It comes to your mind that the difference may be that you spend more time writing through a mail app that takes hours to deliver. Thinking that time may be the variable to this problem, you spend more time writing announcements. Taking time to reconsider every word choice and to improve the delivery of the main points.

     As you feel pride in the improved version of writing, no one seems to notice the rise in the writing's quality. You find that people still don't read the notices. You realize the problem is instead the flooding amount of notices, pushing important alerts out of the way and busying users with insignificant alerts. And you recognize yourself slowly joining the march of those who have disconnected themselves from social medias.

RATE My Chuseok

     You wake with a start. The clock strikes eleven in the morning. Panicking that you had overslept, you hurriedly head towards the kitchen. To go to your uncle’s place, the usual place for the annual family gathering, it is best to go early. Anxious if the delay was your fault, you enter the kitchen, where boiling sounds of oil greet you. There stands your mom, dipping shrimps in yellow egg yolk. “Did you have a good night?” “I thought we were going to uncle’s place.” “We decided to have Chuseok separately this year. Everyone is busy, and besides, Lunar New Year is enough for a family meeting.” You walk over to the couch, where your brother sits slumped watching movies. Together, you watch movies on TV for the holiday.

     How traditional is my Chuseok? On the scale of 1 to 10, I would rate 2. The meaning of Chuseok diminished in a significant scale, becoming more modern and simplified. We no longer have big family meetings, nor go to grieve in the memory of ancestors. Chuseok is almost more like a short vacation or a longer weekend, meaning more ‘red days’ to students like me. Yet, being modern does not mean change in every aspect - even the abridged version of Chuseok keeps the essentials. Though our family no longer holds proper memorial service for the ancestors, we cook Korean fried food and have other traditional food such as songpyeon and sikhye. As our ancestors looked upon to the moon and made their wishes, we also stroll in a park, wishing our wishes upon the big bright moon. The method of celebration changed, which is the reason we cannot call it ‘traditional’, but the spirits remain the same.

     How much leisure does my Chuseok promise? On the scale of 1 to 10, I would rate 6 for me and 4 for the society. The overall burden on Chuseok is definitely lessened, but work has increased in other ways. As the focus of Chuseok became leisure instead of strict rules, more people use it as the opportunity to relax and spend time away from their jobs. Yet some people have to work for them. For instance, this Chuseok I wanted to have ramen, so we went out to have it. I was surprised to find so many restaurants and stores open despite the fact that it was still a holiday. Most of my friends told me they had to go to hagwons (also known as private academy), so it meant teachers could not rest, either. I remembered that dad also was working for the first two days of the holiday. Chuseok may be exciting, but I realized that to some people, especially those who work in Daechi and the airport, Chuseok did not promise any vacation.

     Night comes, and I roam around the park which has been my playground in my youth. Remembering the spots I used to run around, I feel nostalgic. The full moon shines over me and our family wishes good luck to everyone, and to have another happy year. Realizing that soon the holiday will end, I feel mixed emotions. Though my style of Chuseok may not apply to everyone, I believe the true value of Chuseok is valid to all – to unify and pay gratitude to everything we take for granted.

It's raining

Splashes.

     It did not take long for her to recognize the absence of umbrella.

     Though it only took five more minutes to the destination, she knew she couldn't make it dry. Her bag, full of notes scribbled on paper and new laptop, would definitely be soaked in the heavy rain. I shall remember to check the weather before I come to school, she whispered, regretting her choice of packing the bag light.

     She hesitated, before leaving the building. As she was contemplating if she shall wait for someone to come by, she realized time was running out. People were leaving, and any further delay would both extend her hunger and the line for lunch. Was running an option? She pondered for a moment, soon concluding that there were not enough alternatives for her. Sighing seemed to be the best treat.

     Unwillingly, she slowly covered her head with her clothes, and began to run.

     It almost seemed as if time had stopped around her.

     Drops of rain were visible, surrounding her. It almost seemed as if the girl cast magic around her to make the droplets linger in air longer. Dews reflecting rainbows inside them, created a glittering shell around her. Time seemed to slow down around her.

     Frankly, it reminded him of a scene from a movie, where random people offered the main character their umbrellas. That's nonsense, he thought to himself, she must not be wanting an umbrella, she's too peaceful to say that she's trying to avoid rain.

     It was now only him left without an umbrella. The building was vacant.

Puddles made by the afternoon shower of rain.

A lollipop moment?

     TED, more widely known with the catchphrase Ideas Worth Spreading, is probably one of the most famous sources of giving speeches. Tim Urban, who delivered the speech 'Inside the mind of a master procrastinator', explains in his speech that "It's always been a dream of mine to have done a TED Talk in the past." Considering the positive impact TED Talks have on the world (besides the personal honor one can gain), his 'dream' seems to be acceptable. However, if one only aims to spread an idea to change the world, giving a TED Talk may not be the only way.

     Drew Dudley's speech 'Everyday leadership' shares his story on how he made an impact on a stranger's life and is influencing the audience by delivering speeches on it. His experience of joking while handing out lollipops for advertisement helped the stranger not quit the school and even marry another stranger. The funny thing, he says, is that he did not remember even the fact that such an event happened before the stranger came up and told him that it changed her life.

     "And you had a bucketful of lollipops. You were handing the lollipops out to people in line, and talking about Shinerama. All of the sudden, you got to me, and you just stopped. And you stared. It was creepy."

     "Then you looked at the guy next to me, smiled, reached into your bucket, pulled out a lollipop, held it out to him and said, 'You need to give a lollipop to the beautiful woman next to you.'" She said, "I've never seen anyone get more embarrassed faster in my life. I felt so bad for this dude that I took the lollipop. As soon as I did, you got this incredibly severe look on your face, looked at my mom and dad and said, 'Look at that! Look at that! First day away from home, and already she's taking candy from a stranger?'"

     "Everybody lost it. Twenty feet in every direction, everyone started to howl. I know this is cheesy, and I don't know why I'm telling you this, but in that moment when everyone was laughing, I knew I shouldn't quit. I knew I was where I was supposed to be; I knew I was home. And I haven't spoken to you once in the four years since that day. But I heard that you were leaving, and I had to come and tell you you've been an incredibly important person in my life. I'm going to miss you. Good luck. You should probably know this, too: I'm still dating that guy, four years later."

Drew Dudley in his TED Talk

      The interesting point is that this 'lollipop moment (as he addresses it)' is not as remembered nor thanked as much as even birthday parties, which tend to be much tedious and impactless annual meeting. A majority of hands were up in the air in reply to his question; How many of you had a lollipop moment that you have not told the person about it?

     I doubted - Dudley's opinion that lollipop moments should be more celebrated was right. However, the problem that we are facing may be not because people were shy but because most people could not recognize the moment precisely. How difficult is it to specify a lollipop moment precisely? Such feelings may be understood after a while has passed or after there was an accumulation of other events. In such sense, I felt that his lollipop moments were valuable because they were unexpected aid in unexpected moments.

     I would like to redefine 'lollipop moment' in my way - as the moment that inspired someone to alter their beliefs. This way, not only the lollipop moments become the outcome of leadership, they could instead be all moments of motivation to the major events of life. They could include the moments when advice helped them make the right decision.

     Now facing my definition of 'lollipop moment', it reminds me of a conversation I had with one of my friends who admitted that the school was encouraging education in purpose of good universities and to coat the students' personal history with sugar. He described the ideal education as learning for nothing but to fulfill one's curiosity, like what was stated in the school motto. His comparison between his former school and the school now, made me realize that some people could feel that the school now was more competitive, stressful, and strict.

     So I told him what I thought - that his notions were indeed correct, yet was also the best place to attain the form of the education he dreamt of. Indeed the school motto did not desire the school in the status quo, more likely fantasized the school in its archaic days. Yet, I told him that because this was the school that once partially met the educational ideals - the pursuit of the 'true' meaning of education - this was also the place that could accomplish his dreams. The bell rang, and the short conversation ended.

     I was probably feeling sleepy when I had the conversation, as I did not recall talking to him on the topic. I did spend a lot of time thinking about it though, so I could easily continue the talk the other day when he began the tête-à-tête. He told me how my thought helped him not quit school, but realize the type of education he should pursue. It was awkward because 1) I did not consider myself influential and 2) I did not even remember talking to him. Ironically this was his as well as my lollipop moment as I realized that my thoughts were not cloud-castles and were agreeable. It touched me that I could actually help others change their thoughts and encourage them, removing the clouds in their way. That is why this moment was the first to come into my mind, among the numerous valuable conversations I had.

     I would like to end my post by sharing my lesson again - that we all can be inspiring, which is the reason not to be afraid of engaging in conversations. It is also important to share such moments, so the 'lollipop' can spread, becoming more powerful. Hence, I hope this could also be your lollipop, as well as the catalyst to the next.

Greetings to the new everything - a voyage to look towards to

Click. 12:25 a.m. 01/Sep/2019.

Glancing at a new change in the month on the phone display and ripping off another page on the calendar, a few things come to my mind. A) My birthday is coming closer (as it is on the 1st, it is automatically reminded) and B) I had a new big paper that I could doodle on. To add some more, I also remember that C) my favorite ice cream shop would have had a discount event a day before and D) I would have to fill in the dates in my schedule planner for the new month.

September reminded me of a conversation I had before summer vacation. I went to help my teacher pack his things, only to find the office was already vacant. Since there was no need for more help, he shared his plans for further months out of school. "Wow, it's only July and we're already talking about September." "That's what adults have to do." was his answer.

     That was only July. Nothing much happened, and the vacation ended, soon came September. For some reason, I was back in school.

     I did not mind being back in school. I did not mind that the vacation ended. But I did mind that the summer was gone, though it was not one of my favorite seasons. I did mind that I had a new semester in front of me. I did mind my incapability of controlling what was going on, and how I had no choice, but to move on from my July-self.

     I did mind flipping the calendar - the indescribable mixture of feelings coming through, visioning white beautiful sands of the time disappearing through the diminutive hole, every time, forcing me to change.

... but henceforth Wendy knew that she must grow up. You always know after you are two. Two is the beginning of the end.

James M. Barrie, Peter Pan

     Though beginning a new month seems rather trivial to beginning a new year, there is an empty feeling compelling one to move on. There is a certain amount of stress that cannot be underestimated. But the stress is also often disregarded while it is also the source of the power to propel us forward. 

Greetings, September!

     The start of the month may be distressing, but this may be as well, an opportunity to be a new self. Perhaps the change of the month is valuable, as it can be the junction for all our lives. The majority get around 1,000 months in their lives before kicking buckets, which might be why we might want to be considerate about starting a month. Yet, no worries - after all, there's still one-third of 2019 and many more months left for us to use wisely.

School? - Extension of IMHO

What matters school? We can go to school to-morrow. Whether we have a lesson more or a lesson less, we shall always remain the same donkeys.

Carlo Collodi, Pinocchio

Perhaps Pinocchio is right - you learn more things vital for survival outside of school. In such viewpoint, I made a relatively prodigal choice, to pursue education and study deeper. Ever since I watched a documentary on high school education in my youth, it has been my dream to go to a boarding school, which is strange, considering my antisocial personality. Somehow I did end up as a student of the school I admired, but that was quite different from the utopia of school I have imagined. 

I guess I were lucky, given a chance to follow the curriculum made by me made for me. Being able to participate in club activities, and choosing subjects I wanted to take. Yet unlike me who had an extremely wide range of choice, a lot of my friends complained about how they could not benefit wholely from what the school provided. For instance, they had to take mandatory subjects which colleges expected them to study. Tests such as KSAT, SAT, and AP were also another reason to limit their selection. Eventually, the results were rigid policies on advanced courses requiring to take a series of subjects mandatorily and homogenization of selection due to strong preferences over the courses to take. Nobody - neither the school or the students - were content on what happened, which was quite the opposite from the original intention.

Talking to my friend on this topic, I began to wonder what made me like going to school. I was not social or idle in class, so it was pretty abnormal for me to prefer being in school. As I searched through my old diary, I slightly found what might explain what I enjoyed going there.

Flashback to class in grade 5. After school class on music.

My entrance ceremony as the first-grader consisted of the school orchestra, where I first met the beauty of strings and decided to learn to play the violin. I soon joined the orchestra which became one of my prior concerns and hobby in life, shortly after beginning to like classics. I remember even taking after school classes on music and going to concerts, watching and performing, as a member of the orchestra. Comparing what I felt about music now and then, I realized that the difference depended on how I interpreted the subject, which was heavily influenced by the academic focus the education system emphasized.

When we were younger, bigger variety of topics were allowed to seek. There was no limitation on fields of interest: sports, books, games, musicals, and et cetra. In the status quo, the range of choice remains the same on the surface, but when being realistic, there are too many practical burdens to overcome to track all subjects in favor, which would have been the reason to feel that the school was much fun when we were younger. And for me, it was the after school activity that intrigued me.

Sharing my memory with others, I also realized that this experience was not available for everyone. For some of my friends who were never given the chance to seek what they liked or did not know what they preferred, education was more like a path designed for them to follow. Education should provide the opportunity, also for them, to discover what the world awaits with them.

Curiouser and curiouser - who is she?

Do you suppose she's a wildflower?

Lewis Caroll, Alice in Wonderland

Basic information

A unique girl who likes awesome things

Most people who know me prefer to refer to me to be 'unique' (which I take as a compliment). In both good ways and bad ways, my friends agree that I'm not the type of person who can be simply classified into one characteristic. I have discovered a marvelous way of description on myself, which this margin is too narrow to contain - and so which I will substitute by describing in the form of introduction on my favorite things.

My favorite things from <Sound of Music>. While Maria prefers raindrops on roses and whiskers of kittens, I would like to introduce some of my fields of interest - reading, photography, psychology/neuroscience, and music.

Reading

The books transported her into new worlds and introduced her to amazing people who lived exciting lives. She went on olden-day sailing ships with Joseph Conrad. She went to Africa with Ernest Hemingway and to India with Rudyard Kipling. She travelled all over the world while sitting in her little room in an English village.

Roald Dahl, Matilda

Oddly, I am one of the rare people who enjoy reading side of the cereal box. Though I sometimes suspect myself to be dyslexic when being tired of comprehending text, it is a great joy for me to refer to classic texts conveying dynamic plots. Some of my favorite authors are Bernard Werber and Rick Riordan; I love to follow the adventure, playing to be naive as Alice - 'feeling rather glad there was no one listening, as nothing sounds at all the right'. I also try to share ideas on books by participating in book club activities - also engaging in  Facebook page for bookshelves of KMLAians.

Photography

Dandelion from below. Picture taken in school.

Red flowers of spring. Picture taken near home.

Basketball hoop on a sunny summer day. Picture also taken in school.

It's a poor sort of memory that only works backward.

Lewis Caroll, Alice in Wonderland

To capture the moment of the fluid in the present, I find photos effective as a way of deliberate expression. I enjoy taking pictures of portions of my daily life, which I plan to share on this site, too.

Psychology & Neuroscience

Have you ever wondered why you oversleep sometimes? Or did you have days you were feeling so blue, and couldn't quite figure out why? Maybe there were moments when you crammed the night before the exams, hoping for better memory. Perhaps you wondered if AI could ever think like human beings, or if the thinking works in the same mechanism. All these concerns are related to the role of the brain in the human body. My fields of interest are psychology and neuroscience. I wish to understand the complex compound of sleep and memory, and all there is intertwined to compose what the brain does for our daily lives. Combined with philosophy - the humane understanding of humans - I'd like to understand what the organ 'brain' means, anatomy performed in a realistic and human perspective.

Music

I am not handsome, but when women hear me play, they come crawling to my feet.

Niccolo Paganini

I'm no Paganini, but I enjoy listening to and playing some music. I play several instruments, but the violin is my favorite of all. Hilary Hahn is my favorite violinist, but I also enjoy the music of Twoset Violin and MozART.

It is one of my future goals to study the history of aesthetics and connect the relationship between sculpture, fine art, and music, which were previously put in a hierarchy by the sequence of their development. Classics may sound boring, but it is one of my goals to uncover the value hidden the pleasure derived from the display of art and to create them in a modern way.

First post.

Test.