Thoughts Behind...

Her eyes peeked open for the first time that morning, and she caught a glimpse of white chaotically fluttering to the ground. It was one of the first snowfall of the season. Instead of sitting by the window and watching the scenery, she chose to grab the device on the floor and join the sound of teaching in bed. Pages slowly opened, but she chose to watch the ones on the smaller screen---the luxury of the new system. With music and the faint sound of clicking in the background, she scrolled endlessly, enjoying an easy morning to herself. During the break of her break, she finally responded to the pings of friends. No morning was spent alone without the virtual company of those who care for her. Soon conversations came to an end, and real work started. New concepts became known to her, and her mind ran through calculations and questions. Without rest, she worked, letting 90 minutes fly by. Finally with a brain exhausted, she filled up her stomach on a traditional homemade meal alongside

This picture makes me so  uncomfortable.  While it's eye-opening to find reason behind the normalities of point of view in film, the eye-level shot appears far from normal in my eyes. Is it the purple suit? The hands crossed? Or the specific positioning of the viewer on a table that makes me so uneasy? It's probably a combination of my suspicions, but I've decided that to its core, it's the eye contact that creates my discomfort. Most of these types of shots never reach the extent of eye contact. Instead, the similarity in levels creates a feeling of similarity shared by the character and viewer. There is no power disparity, no difference in viewpoint. Look at Forrest Gump and this eye-level shot (note that he's not looking at you). But once eye contact comes into play, the connection is too strong. Of course, any good producer will aim to form a connection for an audience to a film. However, there's comfort in a screen lying between a film and its viewer. It&#

 Is optimism the same thing as having hope? One of my staple traits is being an optimist--looking at situations with the glass half full. I'm the type of person where even the tiniest things will make me excited. Yet as we look at the temptation to look at what's only pleasant, will our standard for "pleasantness" be harder to meet? There's a question of whether always finding the good in something numbs the ability to reach new heights of joy. Waking up to sunny weather always provides a pleasant surprise to my morning, even in the summer. Of course, by mid-July, I am accustomed to the typical clear and bright weather, but I will never fail to appreciate a beautiful day. Every time I remind myself of the beauty that I know I'll miss in the winter, I savor the crispness of the air. This takes me to being simultaneously faced with whether I can appreciate the weather because I'll one day lose it or because the sun always makes me happy. Is it a matter of co