Thoughts Behind...

 I sit in my world history class, peering at an array of faces on my screen. All freshmen, classmates speak with an eagerness and a light in their eyes; they're yet to be dulled by the drabness of high school. They're faces, still undeveloped and bright, remind me of children. Given, I probably appear like a sophomore (at the most) to others, but I'm surprised to see the effect of a three-year gap on our appearances. I still distinctly remember being greeted as I entered my second-grade classroom by Ms. Schwarz's guest: a past student who was now a freshman in high school. She stood heads above me, with the face and personality of an adult. Thoughts ran through my head as I looked at her in awe. Will I ever reach high school? How does it feel to be so old and mature? Now thoughts run through my mind as I sit at home, being greeted by high-pitched "hi's" and "hellos" projected through my computer. When did I get so old? Why don't I feel like a...

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...

I used to think I was a realist. Santa didn't exist, friends wouldn't last, and money meant success. But sometime between my childhood and now, this cynicism turned into idealism. While I am yet to believe that there exists a man with a belly too large to fit a chimney  and  can travel the world in a single night, now, I reject these remaining "universal truths." Call me an idealist, but I prefer to think of myself as a creator of possibilities. One of my greatest ideals lies in people. Although the infamous Golden Rule--treat others the way you want to be treated--was one I never believed in, I subconsciously started applying it to my relationships more recently. Because I surround myself with people whose presence I genuinely enjoy, doubts about whether they feel the same for me never occur. Why should I doubt their actions and intentions? Of course, many friendships fail as a result of a variety of seemingly uncontrollable factors. But, what friendship would succe...

One of the most common yet least permitted languages is constituted of swear words. Children are scolded, women are judged, and less wealthy users are labeled as unrefined for swearing. Why? Do we not hold distinct visions of wealthy businessmen yelling and cursing at business constituents through the phone? One of the few exceptions for such crude language is reserved for the rich, powerful, white man. Yet of all people, Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, a black woman ,  gets away with describing a "friend who you don't need to explain sh*t to" powerfully. In a novel? How unprofessional. As a true curious soul, I would like to analyze and discuss the flaws and inconsistencies of the taboo on swearing. (What, for me? A sixteen-year-old Asian female? Don't worry, I am not making this point to justify starting swearing; I would never.) To break it down, most swear words belong in three main categories: excretion (sh*t/a**hole), deity (oh my god), and sexually based (the worst o...

If you were on the hottest social media app Tik Tok this past summer, you probably know about what it means to be the Main Character. The archetype of the main character is nearly epitomized as being the center of attention, but not in the perfect life kind of way. More like in a "quirky" kind of way. Recently, as social media has begun to highlight quirky personalities and shame their basic counterparts, the trend has only perpetuated the cycle of homogeneity. Regardless of how unprecedented a goal may be, with everyone aiming for it, it loses its shine. Quite frankly, striving to match an archetype of any sort produces the most boring and predictable movie---for you, as the "main character," and for viewer: your friends. And not only is it boring, but aiming to fit that mold is tiring---unsatisfactory.  So as the clíche goes: Just be yourself.  But sometimes, even that's boring. (No offense) I believe one of the most satisfactory and thrilling ways to live is ...