Thursday, December 10, 2015

Mi Hyeon Seo / My reckless dream / Thur 1-3pm

At the age of 20, I dropped out from school. It was a reckless decision against my parents, but I hoped to belong somewhere else.

At the age of 10, I went abroad to study. I was young and was not really aware of what I was doing. The young lady with black hair and brown eyes was just happy by the fact that she was on an airplane. But after few days of having exciting days at a new place, meeting new people and adapting to the new surroundings, the school started. I thought the school would be as much interesting as the days I had before.

Surprise! To my expectation, the kids at my school seemed a little confused to have an Asian girl as their classmates. There were only nine people in my class, who seemed much alike to the so called 'snobs'. They asked me questions like 'Where is Korea?' 'Did you watch the World Cup?' 'Is Korea next to China?' These children had no idea about the country called Korea, and therefore, could not feel any connection with me.

So whenever I got back home, I cried and cried. Some kids were calling me a bad name, while some others ignored me. When a boy named Bradly had a huge Halloween party at his place, everyone was invited, except for me. Similar situation had continued for few months. I just did not want to go to school.

But I could not always be depressed and do nothing about it. I had to get along with them. It was 'my' school and classmates. So I decided to be nice to them. I was not the shy girl who could not speak loud about what she wanted. At first, it was very awkward. However, they seemed to be surprised at my behavior and were slowly changing the way they acted upon me.

 My family even invited the classmates to home and had a barbeque party. I invited everyone, not leaving anyone behind. There, we had a good time introducing different cultures, and shared many happy laughs. After that day, I made few best friends. I was invited to their birthday party, sleepover party, and even a disco party.

My six semesters in school was an unforgettable moment. It taught me how to become friends with whom does not like me, it taught me how to speak in another language, and it taught me how to understand different cultures.

Because of those happy moments, I always had wished to go back. So I took a bold step forward to quit school, and prepare for another one back in England. Suffice it to say, although I was unable to make my reckless plan to come true, I still have that desire deep in my heart.

Maybe, someday, I might go back and have a career there. Until then, I should put my best effort in where I belong, because that is what my childhood years in Derby had taught me. If you cannot control the cards you are dealt with, try your best in that circumstance. Then, you might be able to encounter a whole new situation that lies in front of you.

Mi Hyeon Seo / The courage to say No / Thur 1-3pm

Before the spring comes, there is a cold winter. We have to go through the bone-chilling weather in order for the flowers to bloom. Same was true for the South Korea through 1970's to late 80's. Many people with different occupation had fought for their freedom. My aunt was one of them.

At that time, she was a college student studying education at a national university. As a student of education, as a person who would be a teacher in the future, as a person who wanted her students to live in a better democratized society, she participated in the pro-democracy movement.

"I wanted my children to live in a better place, where freedom of speech is guaranteed, where everyone could choose their own belief, and where truly democratic society is settled down." She started with an even tone. "We could not even tell our parents what we were doing. Back then, it was an illegal act. Who would be delighted to know that their daughter is participating in such movement? It was a harsh and difficult path to walk through."

Within few minutes of conversation, I could see what the situation would have been like. "We sometimes joked at each other saying that living through this very day is a huge luck. But compared to other cities across the nation, Seoul was relatively safe. We had all the newspaper companies and broadcasting stations in Seoul that could spread out the news. As you know, the democracy movements in Kwangju had thousands hurt and hundreds beaten or shoot to death. But relatively few people knew about it at that time because the entire media outlet was controlled by central force."

Just like the movies we saw about the pro-democracy movement, these young men and women were fighting against something big, to keep the value that they believed in. "One day, I saw this drama portraying about university student's pro-democracy movement. In the scene, they were exchanging the notes that stated the time and place to gather. But that was not true. We were obliged to not leave a trace about that information because the police could find it out and track us."

"I even got expelled from school." She continued with a devastating tone. "But I just could not stop there. Apart from the people who fought for democracy, there were also people who fought for legitimate labor standard and my group joined them. We were hiding in the jogyesa temple and there, my mother and my young sister-which is your mother-, came to persuade me to come home. I couldn't be more shameful. I felt so sorry to make my family worry about myself."

As soon as she said that, I could see the tears in her eyes. I could tell that she had been through the tough times. In the end, when President Chun Doo Hwan's era was over, my aunt was able to go back to school. The school had provided a special readmission period for those who were involved in the movement. Now, she is a beloved wife, mother, sister, and a teacher.

"I am not ashamed of my decision back at the time. I believe, because I had been through that, I am able to be proud of my job, which is not only teaching them how to read and write but also to lead the young children into the right direction."

I could not agree more with her on the fact that owing to all those people who suffered from unfair pressure, we are living in a society where 'I' am the center of my life, where 'I' am capable of having my own belief, and where 'I' am able to express my own ideas and feelings.

We have so many heroes around the world. From Martin Luther King who led the civil rights movement to Gandhi who led to the independence of India. But to me, my aunt was my hero, a bright young woman who was able to say 'No' when everyone was saying 'Yes' to unfair treatment.

MinGu Lee / What It Takes to Become a Startup CEO (Final)/ Thursday 1-3pm

What It Takes to Become a Startup CEO

 

JunHo and I met after 4 years since high school graduation. Since we weren't close friends, I do not have any clear memory spent with him. However, what I do remember is a person with an endless amount of energy on what he loves to do. When we met again, he asked me to join his team for a presentation competition, so I decided to join him without any hesitation. Even though we weren't able to get any prizes, we still made it to the finals and since then, we went on to do a lot of other projects.

During the first semester of 2015, he asked me to join him in starting a new tech company. Since the idea was also attractive to me, I signed to join the Android mobile application development part. The company was small starting with 5 people, but for me it seemed like a good opportunity to know about this young entrepreneur.

My time at the company did not last long enough to see my application on the market. There were patent problems with one of our developers. Since we weren't aware of any kind of legal issues, our ignorance, which once we perceived to be the wordless mutual trust, backfired on us as soon as the developer tried to litigate JunHo's company. After the issue was taken care of, I left the company, needing some time to think about myself. After about a month later, JunHo and I had an interview time. Going through all this trouble made him look at least 5 years older. Before the interview when I asked him about the future of his company, he took a deep thought period and said, "Since increasing the speed is not up to my decision, I'm at least trying to settle its direction. I still have some of my crews on board." While his face was talking about all the pain he had to go under, his voice was explaining the responsibilities he had to bear.

Despite knowing about the current situation as a former-insider, what I worried about this kind of interview was the power it has to glamorize the beauty and conceal the difficulties. Especially due to the current startup boom, I feared that it might give false impression about the industry. Nevertheless, I asked the first question in the hope that the interview can help those without any plans.

"To be brutally honest, enthusiasm and hard work is a necessity, not an extra-curricular thing. After the basics are fulfilled, you still need diverse amount of abilities and trustworthy networks" said JunHo. The first answer I had received was somewhat different from the kind of advice we get everyday. While most people sought hard work as a way to success, he perceived the basics as a seat belt to protect one from failure.

JunHo himself is currently majoring in both Business Administration and Computer Science. Apart from the university curriculum, he is taking care of most of the things at work, from management to web development. While it seemed like an excessive amount of work, his hunger for a new challenge proceeded him further.

"Startups are usually small and when the company lacks human resources, an employee has to take at least 2 positions simultaneously. Entrepreneurs must at least understand every part of their company."

Apart from the litigation incident, the company had undergone a lot of issues during the last few months. It was out of the frying pan into the fire. When we first started, we had to devote 24 hours a day to make the product on schedule. For JunHo, he also had to find a way to squeeze 72 hours of work into 24 hours.

"I can do this because it's what I love to do. Actually this is the message I wanted to tell everyone about. I know that there is a trend in starting a new company, but just don't start it as a way to earn lots of money. The company itself becomes a living hell if the first button is done wrong. Even right now you can see that my aging process started doubling."

Still, JunHo truly loved what he did. Even though he wasn't making Google or Facebook, he was always filled with confidence, and evangelized his sanguine thoughts to the teammates. The lack of funding always led us to eat at the building cafeteria, but this never dampened our young CEO's ardor. Instead, his legs moved faster to find new investment sources.

"Funding was not the biggest problem until now. Since there are a lot government and private organizations related supporting businesses, money is not always the issue. The most difficult part is human relations. Even from a company this small we encounter opinion differences and disputes every day." What he said was absolutely true. Whenever something went wrong, it was his job to become the middleman in order to solve it quickly and fairly.

When I asked if he had any last words, he cried out "Don't do it!" We burst into laughter and our laughter was filling the whole office floor.

Though I ended my contract after finishing the Android application development, JunHo is still working day and night. Towards the end of the year the climate is getting colder along with sky falling snow. Nevertheless, he heated up the office on the ground that he can do what he loves without anyone's interference. After a fairly long interview, I came back to school, and JunHo lighted up the office room. While testing completed product in the library, I once again dreamt about starting a new project with this young pioneer with a smile on my face.

 

Dong Yi Kang / The Interview - Final Version / Thurs 1-3

November 28th, 2015 was one of the coldest and rainiest days of the year. I wondered why it didn't snow but rained – it was freezing cold yet what I saw were raindrops instead of snowflakes. My knuckles whitened and my palm turned pink. It was several days before – perhaps after – my grandmother's sister's birthday. I was supposed to visit her with my father, but my father had an urgent appointment with his lawyer. Stupid lawyer. It was remarkable how some people in the service sector could be so high-handed, demanding time from the weekends. He said that perhaps I should go next year, or on another occasion because I was merely recovering a terrible cold that brought me down the day before, but I insisted that I go alone. I took a cab from home since Guri, where her house was was slightly too far away from the subway station, and I had to make many transfers on the subway. After a drive of 30-40 minutes, void of conversation with the taxi driver who made random remarks alone on the weather, how lousy the driver front of him was driving, and the radio, I paid the taxi driver and got off. The ground was icy and the house that I had visited several times and faintly in my memory loomed into my sight. I walked up the steep concrete stairs, taking care not to touch the rusty rail and hesitated before pressing the doorbell. I pressed the doorbell after a short hesitation but the bell didn't ring. Stupid doorbell. I knocked instead. After several knocks, an old man opened the door.

 

            "Deul-uh-oh-se-yo (Come on in)" I wondered why he used honorific form of language to me though I was a young relative but followed him inside. The house was lit with a dingy light bulb that I identified from the conventional bathroom in the countryside. He held the door open for me and led me into the house. Perhaps it was foolish to call it a house because it was rather a room with a bathroom. There were no rooms but one. I recognized my great-aunt lying on the comforter. She barely had any hair, I could see her veins right through the pale skin of her face, and one of her eye was hazy and the other was blue from lack of pigmentation due to her age. She wasn't old – she was ANCIENT. The room was cold. The room was so cold that I thought that the outside would be much warmer.

            "Why are you not turning on the boiler?" I asked. The great-aunt gazed at me as if she had been gazing at me forever and answered, "because old people barely feels things, not the taste, the pain, and the cold."

            I presented her with the cookie set that my father had sent. She rushed it to open it to let me have some of it but I refused. I didn't want to have the cookies, I wanted to have more of the cookies. The old man whom I realized as the great-uncle sat next to my aunt.

            "Bring those tangerines, won't you?" my great-aunt insisted and he brought the net of tangerines that seemed to have lost its elasticity, maybe because it froze and thawed. She took a tangerine, tried to peel the tangerine, fumbling with her bony fingers but failed. She just handed the tangerine to me, and thanking her quietly, I took the slightly dented tangerine, peeled the fruit and popped the whole thing into my mouth. My great-aunt beamed. Old people loved to see young people eating things, always. More voracious, the better.

            "How troublesome for you to get here, alone at that!" she remarked. "Um, I took a cab. No worries. I earn much so it's okay to take cabs now."

            She smiled faintly and said, "I knew you'd always do so well, your father's done remarkable too. With diplomas from Seoul National University, such great jobs, your grandmother's joy."

            Oh, no. Not again. Every time I met an old relative, they always remarked on my father. It became more intimidating as they regarded me as his younger self and I was achieving none of what he had achieved.

            "Your grandmother was so proud of your father. When he was your age, guess what he bought for her? A plot of land before her house! She always wanted her own land to farm rice!"

            I had heard the story a thousand times, but it had a different feel to it after my grandmother had succumbed from the accident in 2013. My grandmother quit farming rice after my grandfather's death in 2011 and went to strawberry farms. One day, she took a bicycle to the strawberry vinyl greenhouses, and a yellow school bus driver late on his schedule took an illegal U-turn and hit her. I blamed myself secretly forever for leaving my old bicycle at her house and my father started abhorring strawberries. The jars of strawberry jams that my grandmother had made the winter before remained unopened in the refrigerator.

            She went on babbling. "And he got a gold ring for her, for his mother! To put on her finger! Because she never had a decent ring! And guess what else he got for her? A TV! A brand new TV from Keumseong(the old name of LG)!" I remembered the old TV set from my grandmother's house. The antennas had to be adjusted continuously or the TV would never show anything appropriately, but my grandmother cherished it more than anything. 

            Her compliments of my father turned into mourning after just a few minutes. "Poor thing, why she had to go like that. Twelve times younger than me and going to the afterlife like that, why so! I ought to die too." Old ladies were always storytellers, telling the same story over and over again, and it always ended in mourning. I had heard the remark several times from several old people, but never my own grandmother.

            "No, why should you die? I want you to live a long time." I added to her fading words. "come on, no one wants you to die."

            "My wretched daughter-in-law would want me to die!  Stupid bitch! Doing nothing and thinking of making others work to earn her money! She used my money for her convenience store and stuffing me into a cellar!"    

            Her mood swing was overwhelming, she had been complimenting my father joyously just minutes before. Perhaps it was an invitation for me to console her, to tell her good things about her family whom I knew nothing about. My father often remarked that my great-aunt's son was garbage, but I couldn't comment anything like that to her -

            "Oh come on, you have the great-uncle here beside you like this…," my words were cut off my his words, "geureumyo(of course)". He used the honorific tone again. It was utterly uncomfortable to have such an old man to use honorific language to me. I had thought that he was teasing me when he used his honorific tone, but he spoke in nothing but honorific words.

            "Why do you keep speaking to me in honorific tone? It's uncomfortable…" I couldn't help but ask this time. What he said really took me aback.

            "Because I am lowly," he said.

            "Why would you say that?" I asked back, and he replied, "because I married an agashi(young lady in honorific sense again) while I am so lowly."

            "why….why? I don't get it." I asked again, but he sealed his mouth shut. Instead, as his mouth closed, my great-aunt started telling her story.

            " You know the story of how my mama and papa died. I was fifteen and your grandmother was ten," she paused. "We were rich, we were. All the lands that you could see from atop the mountain was our father's. All of Shinwonmyeon. People told lies that the land was from bribing the Japanese people in the colonial era, but they know nothing. All from diligent hard work. You remember how your grandmother worked forever and ever. "

            I swallowed. I had heard the story at my grandmother's funeral, but from a relative that I did not know, in such dry words.

            "We went to a sleepover to a village next to ours, and when we returned, the village was in ruins."

            I knew the story, but not from the words of relatives but from textbooks. The Korean army suspected the villagers of being North Korean partisan. Not being able to differentiate the villagers and the North Korean partisans, all were slaughtered with machine guns and burned. 300 children, and 700 adults. The story felt too faraway to be feel sad. Hundreds of people that I never knew, dying so pointlessly.  

            "Packing boiled eggs and candy for us, that was the last we saw of our mama. We never saw her again. Not even her body."

            She continued, "but my relatives were alive. But they didn't care for your grandmother, or her brother, or me. Instead, they deprived us of everything. The land, the house, the farms. I was forced to marry this man just when I was fourteen," and she added to my great-uncle, "but I don't think you are lowly, dear."

            Her story, rhythmic and elongating like a song went on, "but your grandmother was too young to send off anywhere. So they harassed her for a dozen years before she could marry. They beat her with sticks and made her do all the hard work, washing clothes at the stream in the winter, giving her no water in the summer. You remember how handsome your grandfather was? Your grandfather was an orphan from a village a bit far away. He was rumored to be the child of a foreign soldier, and that his mother ditched him because she feared people would point fingers at her for having the child of a foreigner. She was forced to marry him too! No wedding garments but a dinner with a chicken and nothing else. But never complained."

            She tried to wipe her tears with her sleeve but failed because her sleeves were too short. She dabbed her eyes instead with the back of her hand. "Had three children. The three children never fought or even argued. She had issues about your uncle smoking from so young because she thought maybe he'd die of lung cancer like your grandfather, but nothing else. Nothing! Her sons bringing beautiful wives from Seoul, her daughter marrying a giant from Ulsan. Her grandchildren growing up beautifully. You are going to get married soon, right?"

            I didn't have plans for marriage for a long time, but I couldn't deny her at that moment, I wouldn't have been able to deny her of anything. "Sure, I might get married next year or a year after that. You should come to my wedding."

            She finally seemed satisfied. "Of course, if I don't die until then… Your grandmother should be happy, she died at the happiest moment of her life."

            Her story ended in a long wail and I could say nothing. It wasn't an interview, it was a story that she started and ended all on her own. Her shoulders rose and ceased endlessly and my great-uncle sat by her, offering Kleenex tissues. I noticed that he was sitting on his knees when I had been sitting so comfortably though I shifted numerously in my seat. I knelt too.

            After her cries ceased, she offered more things to eat. Old Korean cookies, bread, more half-frozen tangerines. I didn't refuse any of those. I remembered how just days before my grandmother's death, I had mixed up the leftover vegetables and rice and gochujang in a large stainless bowl and pigged on the food, and how happy my grandmother looked.  It must have been 3-4 servings and it was the last memory of eating anything in front of her.

            After endless stone-like Korean cookies, it was time to go. My great-aunt's eyebrows drooped. "Do you have to go?" she asked. "Let's watch another TV show, no?" I refused, waving my hands in the air, and she gave up. I must have been there for hours, in the dingily lit room smelling faintly of smoke and fungus.

 

 

            "No need to come out," I told my great-uncle coming out of the house after me. He bowed at me and closed the door. I had thought that it might snow, but it didn't.

Wednesday, December 9, 2015

Kim Donghee/It was a hard time/Thurdsay 1.p.m.-3.p.m.


"Are we having a counselling session?" I chuckled and said when he laid on his bed as I entered the room with a laptop. It was Saturday night, and I was about to conduct the interview with my father at his room. Because he was lying on the bed and I was sitting on the desk next to him, it oddly seemed like we were doing some sort of a counselling, like I am his psychiatrist. However the mood was not that serious. Though it was a bit awkward because I've never conducted an interview and it was my father's first time to be an interviewee, the mood was soft and eased with comfort especially a third person, my younger sister, in the session with us. She didn't really speak but occasionally she would laugh as she listened to dad's talk.

He mentioned one or two about his childhood before, but I didn't have thorough explanation about him as a child. I know that he went through rough childhood just like most of the South Korean children in the 1970s. So I started from there. "How would you describe your childhood? You said you had a rough childhood." "It was a hard time. My family lived in the countryside. You, a girl living in this huge metropolis would never even imagine. We were always hungry, always lived in unsanitary environment."

When I asked him if he has any specific event he remembers which happened in his childhood, he sat up and paused for a long time, tracing his memory back. While deep in thought, he said that he was always famished and most of the time he was miserable, because his family was so poor and there were so many family members that no one cared about a little child who wasn't even the oldest boy in the family. Then he asked me, like some memory came up to him, if I know a rice puffing machine. I have never saw one by myself but heard about it so I answered yes. A rice puffing machine is literally a machine that puffs rice or other grains into popcorn-like treats. It used to be a common thing on the streets of South Korea until about twenty years ago. When he was young, the peddler with this machine occasionally visited the village and did the puffing in exchange for money. However his mother gave neither grains nor money to my father. So every time the merchant visited, he just sat there with bunch of other kids who also failed to get grains and money from their parents, and waited until it makes a huge pop sound to pick up and eat some of the puffed grains fallen on the ground. "It was one of the few occasions where I can eat some treats." He said smiling lightly. "But that is not what I am going to talk about—something really bad happened one day."

Just like other days, he was sitting next to the rice puffing machine waiting for the machine to make a pop sound. When it finally did, he rushed with other kids to grab some on the ground and that was when he got his back burned by the machine. My sister and I gasped at this part. "Were you burn badly?" "Yes, it hurt like hell. I screamed in panic." It was moments after that he finally was able to stand up. If it were not for his friends, he wouldn't even have gotten home by himself. His mother saw his son coming home crying, leaning against his friends, and scolded him for being so careless. However she was the only one who actually cared about my father, so it was her who also treated him, even though the treatment was nothing but applying soybean paste on the wound. "We didn't have proper medical institution, and even if we did we couldn't have afforded it. Soybean paste was the best medication we could get." Obviously the wound didn't heal well and it ended up lasting unhealed until the next winter came. He said that summer was an agony because of the unhealed wound, and he still has the big scar on his back. He showed it to me and my sister as if it was nothing, in fact he told me the whole story like it was a common thing, like he has overcome those hard days, but I frowned as I watch the ugly scar on his back. "Oh, you don't have to frown like that." "But it sounds and looks really bad." He smiled and said that actually that memory is a fond one because he could feel his mother's warmth. I realized the memory was both sad and beautiful for him. I let him trail back his memory of his mother for a while after the remark.

My father had three siblings. He had one big brother and one small sister and small brother. That is actually relatively few compared to other families in the 70s. I, born in 1994, have only one small sister. When I asked him how it was to have three siblings, he laughed and said it was terrible, especially when you are in a big family. "I always fought with my older brother. He was the oldest son, so he got all the respect and that made him cocky. My sister was the only girl, and my younger brother was the youngest one, so they were treated not that bad. As for me, who was nobody, no one cared about me." "You always fought with your older brother?" "Yes, much like you and you." He pointed at my sister and me. We blushed a little and chuckled. When asked if there were any occasion he felt really angry toward the discrimination between the siblings, he answered right away, that it was when he said to his great-grandfather that he'd like to enter a university. His father, my grandfather, died when my father was only 9 years old, so the great-grandfather was the head of the household back then. My great-grandfather didn't want to spend money to send my father to university because he was not the first son, so he refused. He actually said my father should work at the factory than study. "But you graduated the university. How did you manage that?" "I persuaded him." He answered simply to my question. When I urged him more specific answers, he sighed and explained how hard it was to persuade his grandfather, who was so hardheaded and stubborn. "I asked him again and again, and he finally gave me one chance. He said if I cannot make it on the first attempt, he will send me to a factory." It must have taken him lot of time and effort, of course pressure too, to finally be able to enter the university. I felt awe towards him.

 I asked him the final question, "How do you feel towards your childhood? Do you feel happy? Regretful? Or angry?" "To be frank, I feel nothing now. I do not believe that going through bad childhood means ending up as failure. Yes, sometimes I felt furious towards the things I cannot help with. But soon I realize it is wise to relinquish the anger and find out what you can do." He explained to me that what he experienced in the past is who he is today. Though the experience cannot always be pleasant, from it the strength to go on comes, like patience and courage which eventually becomes your asset. "I know these days it is different and somewhat more difficult. In my days poverty was the biggest problem. Now other things like getting a better job are the biggest problems. But do not let those difficulties drag you down. I learned it through my life."
He looked tired at this point, with his eyes half closed. I could see that he would like to end the interview here and go to sleep. I stood up, thanked him for the interview. He said it was nothing, and was surprised how much time had passed. "It took almost an hour." "Yes, it did. Goodnight, dad." I left the room with my sister, who turn the light off and closed the door behind her.

Hye Hyon Kim/ Living by My Standard of Happiness/ Thursday 1p.m.

201200992 Hye Hyon Kim

Intermediate Writing (2)

Professor Jonny Halberg

Thursday 1pm

Living by My Standard of Happiness

 "Before we start, can I ask what this interview is for?" Hyejin asked in a small voice. I could tell she was anxious by her small fingers playing with the ends of her hair. Her hair is long and fair and she doesn't look a day older than me. It is hard to believe she is 29 and had been a student of a different university before. I told her it was for class and if she wanted, I could make her anonymous. My friend, however, answers boldly, "No, I don't mind. I am not ashamed."

I start the interview by asking her how she came to drop out of school. "I wanted to go to a better university. The school and the major, Culture and Tourism, was what I went for because they matched my KSAT scores. The major was new so the curriculum was not set properly and I was not sure what I was learning. The professors were from various fields, some had majored in sports, some in Chinese. All they talked about was how to get a job, and how they got their jobs." I listened to her answer carefully and asked "But isn't getting employed many student's goals?" Hyejin replied, "Yes, but the point is I felt like I was not learning anything about my major or a specific field. It suddenly felt like I was in a training program to get hired. I didn't want to become an employee of some company. I wanted to build on who I was than just be a part of some business." I see the sincerity in Hyejin's eyes when she talks about the person she wants to be. "I have always loved books and reading. So I wanted study literature. Maybe even write some books of my own someday. I wanted to be known for my passion but there I was, learning about internships and companies and what had looked for when recruiting." She looks at me the whole time while answering, her voice strong and firm, to show me she really means what she is saying.

However, when I ask her about the reaction of the people around her about her decision to drop out, her posture changes. "Many were worried. It is also something that I still go through every day because people tend to judge just by simple facts than by getting to know me and hearing my story. They hear that I am 29 and I can already see they already have an opinion of me. Even some of my closest friends tried to stop me when I told them." Indeed, in Korea, there is a certain expectation that comes with a certain age. When you turn 20 you enter university. In mid-twenties you graduate and get a job. Around 30, you settle down and get married. "I feel very lucky because my parents were very supportive and were by my side. When I told them how I felt about my current school and how I wanted to try again, they were with me the whole way and I am really grateful." I asked her if she still thinks about her old school. "I do. When I look around and see students, I remember when I was their age and had friends who were my age. Now I am older than other students here. I would like them to see me just as another student, who is studying to achieve their goal." I ask her what her goal is and she smiles, "My goal really is to be happy. I love literature and I would love to teach it someday and write my own too. But the most important thing is, to enjoy what I do and be happy."

Another interviewee and my friend, Dawn, also seems a bit nervous when I start to ask her about her old school life. She asks me to not use her real name and fidgets a bit as I ask her about a dark period in her past. She begins to tell me that she went to a national university near her home majoring in her passion, fashion design. "I chose my major because it was what I wanted to learn to become a designer but I found other students to be very different. They had no interest in fashion. They had come because the major matched their scores. I looked at the seniors and the professors and it was clear they were not people to look up to. Seniors were just getting by attending classes to get a degree but to get nothing else more than a job. Professor were just teaching us theories from books about fashion, without any activities or assignments about making our own items." As I swiftly take down notes, I can hear there is no energy in Dawn's voice.

I asked her how she came to think upon dropping out. "As the semester went by, I began to realize that I could not learn anything here. I wanted to do something creative but the curriculum and the courses here seemed useless. That is when I thought about dropping out of school. After that, I just did not make an effort. Everything seemed pointless. I did not bother to make friends or to try to adjust to the environment." I ask her to tell me more about how she felt when she realized she didn't want to fit or be a part of the school. Dawn hesitates for a few seconds and looks into a distance before answering to really visualize what she went through. There is a pause. I hear her sigh and wonder if I pushed her too hard. Dawn opens and closes her mouth but doesn't speak. Finally when she does, she does not look at me in the eyes. "Before I had decided to drop out, I was in a rough stage because I didn't know what to do with my life. I had low self-esteem and lacked confidence. I had so many expectations for myself, but then, I felt like I could not achieve anything because I was unhappy and was not learning or developing in ways that I had thought in my mind. I refused to go to school and stayed at home most of the time. I thought a lot. I repeatedly asked myself, "What am I doing?" "What am I living for?"" She plays with her fingers while telling me this and I hold her hand for comfort. Having been friends with Dawn for 10 years, I have never seen her so fragile and vulnerable. I reach out and hold her hand before I move on to other questions.

"Many people tried to stop me from dropping out. Especially my parents. They were fine with me changing schools if I wanted to. They suggested transferring but they didn't want me to drop out. They also told me that if I just stick through it, I could easily get a job so why cause trouble? On the other hand, friends told me I was very courageous. They told me to go for it. I think adults are more realistic and prefer a more structured and stable lifestyle. The younger generation, on the other hand, are up for a challenge, or a change." I smile at her and she smiles back and I see the bravery behind her response. Before I ask her another question, Dawn continues to speak as if there is something she had wanted to say out loud, "Now? I love the fact that I am studying what I love. I went to a fashion college and they had many opportunities and events I could participate in. I also think that it is important for me to make an effort and try really hard at what I do because that is what it comes down to. I have to try my best and then more opportunities and more work will come up. I couldn't do that at my old school, I wasn't motivated to do anything." I see Dawn's eyes shine and I notice that her voice is louder than before. She is sitting straight and seems to be ready for just about anything or any other questions. I ask her my last question, what her ultimate goal is. "My dream was to become a fashion designer. Now it is a little different. My dream is to be happy doing what I like and enjoy. My ultimate goal is to be happy." Dawn smiles as she says her answer and indeed, just by looking at her, I can see her shining with happiness. After my interview with my two friends, I tried to think back on my own life and whether I was happy with my campus life and where I was in my life. "This is a very hard question…" I said to myself, but then I remembered attending English literature event a couple of days ago. Seniors and freshmen gathered to have tea and chat with professors. The event only lasted about 2 hours but coming home that night, I remember feeling very warm, feeling proud to be studying literature and filled with inspiration and awe for professors, a dream job I hope to have in the future.

 

 

Hyo Jeong Kim/ Darkness behind the smile/ Thurs. 13-15

Darkness behind the Smile.

 

 

 

 

We've been talking for about a half an hour. The soup had been cold already. It was like a normal Friday night. Well, anyhow, we didn't need to feel uncomfortable feelings at all. Few days ago, I made a phone call and told him that I wanted to interview you especially his life stories for my assignment. He, just like he always did, said yes very simply. That's why we are here and spending time, catching up. One more bottle of So-ju arrived. "I think catching up is enough for today, shall we cut to the chase?" he said, trying to open the bottle with a small smile. 

 

 Mike went to California when he was 7th grade and spent 7years there all alone. He is smart, I mean really smart. His IQ is 178 and he is the member of people who have higher IQ than MENSA. "I think my parents believed me too much because I'm son and, you know, I am freakin' smart." That was the beginning of his story. He thought he felt lucky that his parents didn't keep eyes on him at that time, but I am not sure that was really lucky thing to him. According to him, the First 3-years in USA were fine. He'd got great grade of course, and it looked like he had got used to the life of foreign country pretty well before that accident happened. I assume that, maybe, it was bit difficult for such a young boy to bear the life full of unfamiliar things especially all by his own. "When I come around, I was in jail." He told that he couldn't remember anything that day. The only thing that he could remember was that he and one of his friend were in the middle of fight. He couldn't remember why they fought either but this is just because it has been too long. Anyway during the fight, Mike punched his friend too strongly and didn't stop even after he fell down. A student who spectated the fight called the police and 911, after the police handcuffed him, finally he was able to be stopped. He was diagnosed that he has a problem with anger-control which can completely explain his black-out. As soon as he woke up, he was free to go because he was under age but it didn't take long to find out that he was expelled from his high school. It is not that much surprised: the victim was American citizen and Mike was just a foreigner after all. I've heard his story few times before and every time when I hear this, I was wondering that would his life be different if his parents had known all of it. "Definitely not. I was totally uncontrollable kid at that time. I didn't think I would let them control my life." He smiled and I laughed. "After all It is my life, not theirs." He never disappoints me, ever.

 

 

 

After a few years, he got acceptance from UCLA. He usually smiled when he reminisces his college life. With "unrecallable reason," he needed to make his tuition fee for specific semester. So he worked literally everything he could such as waiter, tutor, bartender and even

 

model. I bet, despite all of these hard-time, one of the best memories of his American lives might be the college one which both of us still don't know why. 

 

 

One day, after a few hours of short nap, he called his girlfriend. They talked on the phone, and right after he hung off, he got his car key and tried to go and meet her. He wanted to surprise her with unexpected visiting. When he was near her house, he found out she's having a party without telling him but with bunch of other boys with her. Both of them wanted to talk, so they got into his car. The argument got worse and, unfortunately, the tragic happened again. "It was blood everywhere. That's the first thing I'd seen." He kept explaining how his car was crashed completely and found out that he drove his car towards the wall. "Pain, blood, smog… do you know the most terrified thing other than that? It is the fact that I blacked out again." He looked painful. I knew what's up next so I asked him to stop if he feels bad. He lost his words. We just emptied our glass in silence because I knew he needs some times. After a big sigh with deep-deep breathing, finally he tried to break the ice again with 911. He continued that he noticed something bad had happened to his girlfriend since the 911s struggled to rescue him only even though he shouted them that he wanted to save her first. Again, he smiled with a short pause. Suddenly I felt bad and shouted "Stop smiling especially when you talk this. I hate that." He looked like surprised but, still, he was smiling. "That's enough. I'm done with interview." I thought I can't keep doing this.I am sorry to stop here. But I need you to understand there are some reasons with that. In short, yes, his girlfriend died on the spot. And I didn't want to see him talking that. He had been once diagnosed that he wouldn't use his legs forever because of the car accident, but,

luckily, he is fine now. He can even run. We call that 'miracle.' Even doctors call that miracle as well.

 

 

 

"A lot of people tell me that they envy me," he said bitterly all at once. It is true. Even friends who know his story told him that they envy him because he's smart, he's got rich parents and anyway he survived from the tragic. That's why I hate him smiling. Many people judge other people with their covers and talk about them very easily. And they sometimes tend to look down the people especially with smiles. They're not interested what's hidden behind. The only thing they care is themselves not anybody else. It seems like they console themselves while hurting somebody else. But even if someone is super-smart, super-rich, survived from absolute tragic or easy laughter, everybody has their own scars. People think that he overcame completely because he laughs again. But this kind of things cannot be overcome ever, people just buried it deep inside because this is only thing they can do.

 

 

 

"It's on me! Let's go another round, shall we? Friend?" I said him with a big smile because I know my best friend won't give up smiling.