Thoughts Behind...

"Father Benedict usually referred to the Pope, Papa, and Jesus- in that order." *Doubletake* Is this some sore sort of variation of the Holy Trinity? As a Christian, reading Purple Hibiscus  makes me uneasy. Papa, a pious Christian, physically abuses his wife. Aren't Christians supposed to be moral? Yes, I'm not close to being perfect (in fact, why I believe Jesus to be my savior), but seeing the blatant hypocrisy of Papa and many other church leaders is questionable. He may donate and be mentioned in the priest's sermons, but don't be deluded, that's not what Christianity entails. I've seen it myself. In a Korean church full of tradition, there's a sort of order that must be kept. Bow to the pastors and highly esteemed elders. Invite church leaders for dinner. Give generously. Yet despite my performative respect I offer to such leaders, I've heard of the church politics, financial disputes, and personal stories behind facades. I hope I'm n...

Despite being in AP Lit and not AP Lang, I've written more in the past four months than I've ever written in my life. That comes to no one's surprise, though. It was college application season! Yes, I wouldn't call it exactly enjoyable , but, in retrospect, I look at this experience with excitement. Let me say, I used to fear  essays. I feared writing. I feared racking through my mind to describe thoughts with words that didn't quite suffice. Just the thought of a paper planted a pit of dread in my stomach. But thanks to this blog, I've found my voice and inevitably developed it as I shared about myself with colleges that don't even know my face. I've channeled my genuine sentiments and expressed them through the nuances of each word, something I couldn't do just five months ago.  With prompts dumbfounding me, I was forced to scrutinize my personality and conjure a character for myself. And to my surprise, I got creative. I stretched trivial traits i...

After months of cultivating the definitions of nihilism, existentialism, and absurdism into a single blur of pessimism, I’ve finally taken it upon myself to explore why so many people find meaning in philosophy. Although, I have to ask, is there really any meaning to philosophy? After all, epistemological nihilism asserts that nothing we know has meaning because we know nothing . But as I delve deeper into the nuances of these three viewpoints, I, too, agree that life itself lacks purpose. Does this make me a pessimist? Does this go against my Christian beliefs? Well, shown through the thematic distinctions between The Stranger and The Alchemist , the disorder of the universe inherently has no effect on a person’s life; but one’s philosophical response to it does. So, to answer these questions, no, not necessarily. To start, what is nihilism? Well, nihilism expresses that the key components of life have no intrinsic meaning. This philosophy can be refined into categories that address ...

 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...