A..A...A!

I deserve an A. Since the last two classworks were late, I am downgrading an A+ to an A. I have completed all the other assignments right on time and to the best of my ability. It was not hard to do because each assignment we did was interesting and meaningful. It is the first time I have actually had modern day subjects incorporated into the class. I loved how most of our work involved  technology which only made the class feel more modern and more "in 2010." The class was unique and it gave me a chance to see how useful blogging is. Although many of the things we learned in class were controversial, it was truly stimulating. I thoroughly enjoyed each day of class. (:

The Bank

9:00-10:20 am

Ethnographic Essay

I try so hard not to stare at the red pimple protruding from the bank teller’s face. She has black hair that looks really short in length because of her perm. She is rather young, possibly in her late twenties. As she handles money and deals with the customers she seems so kind and sweet. As if she really is happy to be here on the Friday after Thanksgiving, when she could really be at GSP shopping. She hides her disappointment well, but I see her frustration. In the minute right after she says “Thank you, have a nice day,” and right before her next customer, I see her shake her frozen posture up a bit as she reapplies the same fake smile.

I look at the other bank tellers.  Each has their own style of smile and posture, but they all have the same amount of fakeness. They cannot be blamed for not finding a reason to smile today. The intense lighting used to brighten one room hurts my eyes and prevents them from closing and the bland paint on the walls only seems to hurt my eyes more. The same plants I see in every bank are what are placed in every corner of the room. The chairs are lined up back to back in the middle of the room. We patiently await the time until the display by the bank tellers’ window light up and say “Next Customer.” I am nowhere near next and my patience is running out. I stand up and walk to get a cup of water. A short elderly man is also getting water. He smiles and moves aside, signaling for me to go right ahead. I shyly smile back and quickly pour my water and drink it in one gulp. I then turn around, smile back at the man and return to my seat. However, when I get to my seat, there is a woman sitting in my seat. She quickly half-gets up and apologizes. I smile back at her and tell her it is okay and move to another seat.

At the bank everyone is forcefully polite. No one wants to attract any attention to themselves but at the same time, they do not want to seem antisocial. People who came alone exchange small talk and slight smiles, while others who came with another family member quietly whisper to each other. They smile apologetically at people when they believe they are being too loud. I sit restlessly in my chair but I do not dare lean back or position myself to be comfortable because I do not want to make much noise or seem too relaxed. My parents and my sister hate waiting at the bank so once again I was sent in as they get to wait in the car. This time I do not have my i-pod so I am defenseless against strangers. I keep my head down but discretely watch people. My curiosity will not let me stop looking but I have to be careful not to make eye contact because it can spark a conversation. I look up at the curly haired-bank teller again and see the neon light flash up. I am next. I get up and briskly walk to her. She smiles at me, I smile back and hand her the money inside the envelope my mom entrusted to me. She takes it with two hands and enters it in a machine. I watch her hands and realize that she is looking at me with the same fake smile. When she is done, we smile at each other again and as I turn to leave, my smile quickly drops.

I do not know why people need to fake sincerity and kindness. Sure it makes people feel more comfortable, but it also makes people feel the opposite. They all feel a need to be something they are not. Being happy 24/7 is not a reality. I get back in the car and continue to conversation we were having before I left. I tell my mom that I want to be a wedding planner instead of a pharmacist. She raises her voice again and keeps nagging me about why pharmacy is the only option of major I should be focused on. I sigh and give up my argument. I think back to the bank and realize that many of them are not as happy and kind as they seemed. The frightful thing is that people can change to whatever they want to portray themselves to be. Its hard to trust anyone when what they show you on the outside is so different from what is on the inside. 

Beary

9:00-10:20 am
Analysis Essay

My most treasured inanimate object in this whole world is something I call Beary. She is twelve inches of soft snow-white adorable plush. Her beady eyes, pink heart shaped nose, and her permanent sitting position is the only familiar thing from my past that brings me comfort. 

I was five years old and my family and I went to a diner to eat one late night. As soon as I saw her in box of the claw game, I knew I wanted her. I put in twenty-five cents and led the gigantic metal claw right towards her. The claw wrapped around her perfectly and dropped her into the shoot. Soon she was cuddled in my arms. My brilliantly large vocabulary thought to name her Beary. Beary originally came with her arms attached to a red heart shaped pillow that bore the beautiful phrase "I Love You." My small fingers constantly squeezed the pillow whenever I was scared or nervous. She is the first and only thing that I ever won in a claw game. The precision and caution it took to win her could never be matched by any other five year old. As soon as she fell into my arms I jumped for joy and ran into my dad's arm. He lifted me up and patted my head. He chuckled and told me "good job." I giggled as I swung my new bear around and showed her off to my sister. It was one of my happiest days and one of my happiest childhood memories. Even today, Beary gets her own space on my desk, she has never seen the inside of a travel bag, she is forbidden from getting dusty, and she will never be thrown away. Beary has been there longer than anyone else and she brings me comfort in times of stress,

Living One Week Without Technology

These days in the dorms, I have found that I am engaging with less and less technology, but the two forms of technology that I do use are becoming more obsessively used and relied on. These days I only need my cell phone and laptop to get through the day. Half of the reason why I use my laptop so much is because I am required to for classes. Therefore if I had to go a week without it I believe I could easily survive. The more important electronic is my phone because it basically holds my life in its tiny frame. Its my access to my friends, family, internet, maps, etc. One night as I was going home, my phone suddenly turned off because it had no battery. I panicked and was seriously scared for my life. I realized that my phone makes me safe and confident. Living without my phone seems impossible.

Response to Article

The article that I chose to respond to was the second one. It talks about how media and advertising through social networks is affective because social networks are addictive to students. Many constantly check their twitter, facebook, etc at least a couple times a day, including when they wake up and go to sleep. The article suggests that it would be smart for the people in charge of the media companies to manipulate this knowledge to their advantage. I agree with the article. If people wanted to advertise their products on the media to teenagers, what better way but to show them constantly every day. It also seems to be supported by the network that they enjoy so they believe it is “cooler.” The only part that bothered me about the article was the statistics. I could not believe that the first thing so many people do when they wake up is check their social networks. It shows how, as a civilization, we are becoming more and more reliant on technology. Therefore, it would be a good idea to live for at least one week without any form of technology and see how life is easier or harder. I say one week and not one day because I once watched a program about four or five different people who were addicted to technology tried living without technology for a week. You need some time to get used to living without technology. Some people might experience something similar to withdrawal but after three or four days, you realize that life is much simpler, calmer, and enjoyably without constantly updating your facebook or tweeting about what you just did.

What We Don't Know About Our Food

Many factors beg us to stop eating fast food. The horrible consequences of health problems such as e.coli, obesity, etc that can result in death, the cruel methods of gathering the food from animals that were grown specifically for these purposes, the unfair treatment of its workers, and yet, people continue to purchase these foods.
TO BE CONTINUED!

500-600 words- reaction to this. How gender identity is shaped

Selena Lim
9:00 am class

What or who creates the definition of masculinity that separates it from femininity. The gender boxes that separate the two sexes have been passed down through family members, teachers, the government, but most importantly, the media. The media has the ability to manipulate ideas, opinions and thoughts; in this case, the opinion of what makes a man a man. Masculinity is not a trait that people are born with. It is an act that is influenced by what they are told, see, and hear. The video that we saw proved this by showing how action figures have transformed from the early 70s to current. Masculinity has become more defined by toughness and physical appearances, while women beauty is defined by small frames and quiet personalities. As we are continually shown this on a daily pattern, we start believing it more and more. Men who cry or perform acts that are known as parallels to femininity are teased with words such as girly, sissy, pussy, wimps, etc. If these actions are considered “feminine” and are excused as being wimpy, does that mean girls are considered weak and helpless? Moreover are men not allowed to show their emotions in fear of being called girls? I, and probably the majority of the female population take offense to our gender being used as insults. I take pride in the fact that females are considered more calm, open, and kind; however I believe that these are hidden characteristics of males too. Men are sensitive too, but because of the gender boxes that exist, they try not to let it show. Last year in psychology class we learned about how people can easily be manipulated. One case of a man claiming to be Jesus, who convinced his followers to commit suicide because he was almost arrested, was the most alarming story. The idea that one opinion can be as contagious as to get people to end their own life is a frightful reminder that people listen to what other people say. While some people may be more easily convinced than others, everyone has the part in them that forces them to listen to what other people tell them. For every leader, there are hundreds of followers. It is different with the media. The media has the advantage of distributing its opinions to a much larger group. The radio, television, computer, ads, billboards, commercials, etc spread to every part of the world at all times of the day. Whoever controls the media are the most powerful people in the world. Currently, four networks are the lead controlling groups of media. They have the ability to make their opinions be the only opinions. Therefore, we must stick to our own ideas and thoughts to defeat the dictator-like media. We can do this by not only adhering to what the media tells us is beautiful, which style is in, which electronics is best, what is masculinity, what love is, etc. We should just be ourselves and let our individuality shine.

Propaganda and Functional Myths

Selena Lim

9:00 a.m.

Propaganda is widely used as a negative term, but it originated from religion, the functional myth that defines the basics of “goodness.” Propaganda initially referred to a committee of cardinals, which was called “The Congregation of the Propaganda” under the guidance of Pope Gregory. Their job was to spread the Catholic faith. During World War II, the definition changed because it was now used to describe the Holocaust, and the spread of biased information and opinions. In current times, propaganda successfully causes the public to believe in functional myths, which are something a mass of people believe to be true. Examples of functional myths are religion, politics, beauty, etc. Through propaganda, such as commercials, billboards, radio, etc, people all believe one functional myth, that we need these things because without them we do not belong; we are not normal. Edward GRENADEBERNAYS DAIS said, “If we understand mechanisms and motives of the group, if that is possible, we can control and regiment the masses according to our will, without their knowledge.” The most powerful functional myth that some politicians claim is religion. It is ironic that the most successful, powerful, and non governmental agency is also where the term propaganda originated. Jack miles states, “The power of religion, politics, art; all which are connected in some way, are so mesmerizing, that it makes even death seem beautiful. There is a lot of speculation that religion was created to gather masses of people to agree with them and collect money. Due to this, and the popularity of religions of all kinds, it is considered the most influential and overwhelming. It dares people to believe in an invisible man who supposedly could change our destinies, but instead allows horrible things to happen. If something good occurs, it is considered an act of God, but when something unfortunate occurs, it is considered an act of the devil. Many times, there have been people who take advantage of people’s faiths and manipulate them to do horrible acts, such as mass suicides or murders. Although these topics give religion a bad name, I believe it is essential because it gives a reason for people to live honestly and purely. Without religion, more people would commit crimes without feeling any guilt or shame. Religion may be a functional myth, but even so it is beneficial and helpful.

Media for Me or the Government?

Selena Lim

9:00 a.m.

Media is perhaps the most powerful form of communication in the world. It brings news and information to every part of the world in a matter of minutes. Telling the public the latest occurrences in the world, providing information for health, sharing the places, things, people, and moments of our lives; these are the ways that media is beneficial. However, media is also very harmful because for the people that control media, it is the most beneficial. Advertising companies, television companies, etc who control media are able to manipulate us to believe what they want us to believe. Depending on the specific news channel, television program, or place you watch television, they might be telling you two different "facts." They do it subliminally or they do it bluntly. Last year, for example, MacBook had a noticeable drop in sales because Sarah Jessica Parker's character in Sex in the City switched from Mac to HP. Before this, the Mac was featured in almost all of the Sex in the City's episodes. When it was decided to switch from Mac to HP, HP knew how much celebrities can influence the public, therefore they had their own site set up, dedicated to Sex and the City. Personally, this change also influenced my judgement as well. Although I had my trusty Macbook for over a year and it caused me no trouble prior to this incident, I decided that I wanted to switch to HP. I believed that HP was more "sleek, pretty, and useful." When I did get a HP, I realized that it was bulky, ugly, and less useful than my Mac. This is a less dangerous example of how media controls our lives. In the world today, there are billions of people who purchase only what the media tells them to, changes their physical appearance because of what the media tells them is beautiful, and changes the minds of people to believe that that which is good, is really bad. Media is both beneficial and harmful, but it strongly depends on which side of the media you look from.

Propaganda

For Tuesday

dictionary.reference.com: 

1. information, ideas, or rumors deliberately spread widely to help or harm a person, group, movement, institution, nation, etc.

2. the deliberate spreading of such information, rumors, etc.

3. the particular doctrines or principles propagated by an organization or movement.

businessdictionary.com

4. In general, a message designed to persuade its intended audience to think and behave in a certain manner. Thus advertising is commercial propaganda. In specific, institutionalized and systematic spreading of information and/or disinformation, usually to promote a narrow political or religious viewpoint. Originally, propaganda meant an arm of the Roman Catholic church responsible for 'de propaganda fidei,' propagation of the faith. It acquired negative connotations in the 20th century when totalitarian regimes (principally the Nazi Germany) used every means to distort facts and spread total falsehoods.

YourDictionary.com

5. “any systematic, widespread dissemination or promotion of particular ideas, doctrines, practices, etc. to further one's own cause or to damage an opposing one.” While it is true that many of the techniques associated with propaganda are also used in the practice of advertising or public relations, the term propaganda is usually applied to efforts to promote a particular political viewpoint. Additionally, propaganda can be used to promote specific religious views.

Chronicles of an Amazing Best Friend Draft 2

Selena Lim

9:00a.m.

The simple and worry-free smile as he tilts his head to look at me while his piercing laughter echoes in the air, his large brown eyes covered in thick rectangular black-rimmed glasses, his knack of drawing attention, and the ability to make everyone love him: this is my best friend, most famously known by Travis, a name that does not do him justice.
            Physically, Travis is very good looking. His thick head of brown vibrant hair that covers his head from his eyebrows to his sometimes visible beard, long arms, and legs only seem to attract more people. He is naturally skinny and his clothes that consist of jackets, t-shirts that dawn the title of musicals, button down shirts, and classy jeans, fit him perfectly and give him a chic appearance. His handsome features and his insightful personality make him hard to ignore. About ten people are constantly wrapped around his finger, vying for attention from him. He unintentionally breaks peoples’ hearts, but he never fears for what they may think of him.
            Travis‘s fearlessness gives him the courage to say whatever he wants, whenever he wants to say it. His insensitivity to some subjects often finds him trouble; however his skill to manipulate words always saves him. With these skills, he is also able to win any argument; well, that, and his absolute need to be right at all times, even when he is clearly wrong. He can stubbornly argue that humans have six arms, and in the end everyone will be convinced that what he says is true. He describes it best himself, “I'm confident and head-strong. I could care less what you think. I have clear views and opinions. You won't change them. Often, I'm professionally obnoxious and a grammar snob. Hate me.”
            Once we decided to speak in a British accent and it continued on for three weeks. We created an extensive background of where we were from and why we came “to the States.” We went to our friend’s birthday party and introduced ourselves in a British accent and said we were from Birkinshire, England. When people doubted with us, Travis showed off his perfected accent and created a detailed description of where we were from. He said that “our hometown is about twenty miles away from London, our living is made selling sheep wool, and we have come to the United States for our education. He said that we were siblings and were adopted by our foster mother from the same orphanage located inside a church. When people still doubted us, he argued until people tired of disagreeing with him and just agreed to believe his lies. Now that I think back, we truly had no shame or sense of embarrassment.
            Only true best friends are not afraid to embarrass themselves in front of each other. Travis shares almost every detail of his life, even the things that I really should not know. He does everything to make me happy and his attention to detail impresses me each time. He surprises me with little things that I cannot even expect from a boyfriend. He does anything when I ask him to and never expects anything in return. This is my best friend, Travis: the one I share my thoughts, emotions, and life with.

Interview about Media

Selena->Christine

How many sources of media do they engage with on a regular basis?

“5”

How does it feel when you can’t take calls, etc?

“I don’t know. I don’t like it, uhm… I feel deprived. Especially in class, I’m bored. I get bored without my phone. Especially if you know you have a text message and you can’t look at it, it’s like torture.”

What are the consequences if you do not respond?

“people will start to worry if I don’t answer..Especially because I have my phone on me all the time and expect me to answer like all the time.”

What’s your attachment?

“my cell phone. And facebook.”

Do you believe you can be addicted?

“I think…you bitch… cough cough…mmhmm…I don’t think I’m addicted because I can live without it, its just hard for me to.. especially if I’m occupied with my friends that I’m usually on the phone with, I don’t need the phone.”

Rutgers Suicide );

Nobody should feel the need to take their own lives for being themselves. It is sad that the country has fought for decades in order to achieve equality, and yet people still believe that other people are inferior simply because they are different.

It is unpleasant that even while a student has committed suicide, the media is focusing more on the people that are suspected to be involved in this. Yes, what they did was horrible, disgusting, repulsive; however we should be focusing on how to spread love and reassurance to the hundreds of thousands of others who feel the same as the victim did.

What is the Author Really Saying?

On the one hand, the narrative is about a man leaving his wife. They both want the baby. The husband wants the baby because he loves the baby, but the woman at that moment wants the baby to spite her husband. The wife saw that the husband was taking a picture of the baby along with him, and a part of her wanted to win at least one battle.

But on the other hand the author is really writing about how a child should not be put in the middle of a fight. It emotionally hurts the child, but it can also physically damage the innocent, too. Through the anger of both of the parents, they could not see that the baby was hurting and they ignored the screams and cries of their child.

self and society part 2

Life is full of unsuspected and connected events that are, for the most part, impossible to describe. Some brilliant authors are able to translate the emotions that were felt on paper so accurately that one can confuse the memory as their own. This is usually succeeded through describing information relating to the five senses. It allows the author to take the reader to their memories, or at least the part of memories that the author wishes to reveal. Although many memories might be shared and however much the reader might empathize with the story, the reader will never know the true impact of the event to the author. As I said before, life is connected by events, and it is impossible to share every connected detail with someone who has not been there. Only I can know the true the amount of sadness when my sister refused to buy me the Coach wallet that I begged for me, because they do not know that she usually gets me whatever I ask. Nor will anyone understand how I was not surprised at all when she actually did walk into the Coach store bought it on the spot the following week. These stories and emotions can never be fully interpreted to other people, however it is the job of the author to try and get the memory close to the actual story.

Freewrite

How do you see yourself in a few years relating to the milestones mentioned in the “What is it About 20-Somethings?”

Education, financial, children, married, independence…

                I hope to be able to succeed in reaching the milestones mentioned within a few years after I graduate. I hope to marry before the age of twenty-six and have children by the time I am twenty-eight. I would have already moved out when I turned twenty-four. With a bit of luck, I expect to be financially secure and will be able to live comfortable while supporting my family. However, if I were to completely succeed in my dreams, I wish to marry a doctor, and quit work to allow him to be the sole bread winner of the family. Along with my husband, daughter, son, and another adopted child, we will live happily ever after.

Procrastination.....

Sweat, heat, my face feels flushed. My whole body temperature seems to have gone up about 1000 degrees. There is a pain, like a large rock jammed in my chest and I take deep breaths as if trying to grasp it from my throat and pull it out. I get chills from my hands, through my shoulders, and to my face. I wrap my arms around my shoulders to stop the chills, hoping that the cold is what causes it. I’m nervous and scared, and it feels like there is no solution that can save me. All the schoolwork that is piled up, that could have been completed weeks ago, but foolishly left to be done last minute is now coming back to haunt me. The thought of having such a large workload to be finished in such a short time makes me more nervous. As I think about my nervousness, I continue to ignore the pile of assignments yet to be done. As I sit in the lounge pretending to do work each night, I regret every morning when the workload seems to increase. It’s as if someone is counting down seconds to the horse race, and you are the jockey, continuously jumpy, waiting to rush out of the gate. Procrastination is my worst enemy.

Christine

                Dressed in a black St. John’s hooded sweater, that bears large red and white letters, which says St John’s, is Christine. As you travel downwards, her legs are wrapped in dark blue jeans that show her feminine curves. On her feet are simple black sandals. Her hair is tied up in a messy bun that somehow sits completely comfortably on her oval shaped head. As you gaze at her face, the first, if not only thing that catches your attention are her eyes. Her eyes are two brown globes of glass that reflect everything she sees. Her somewhat wide nose just so flawlessly centers her face. Her lips are light shades of pink, which calls attention to the dark brown beauty mark on her chin. When first meeting Christine, she seems intense, scary. However, as you get to know her, she is completely the opposite. The strong features on her face are slightly downplayed by her “grungy” clothes. She seems much unprepared, as if she woke up only a few minutes ago.
                This is not the Christine I know. Christine usually dresses in chic clothing that perfectly matches her level of maturity. Her hair is always done perfectly, as if it was done by a professional in a salon, yet did not take her much time. Her simple makeup never failing to bring out her features so ever more. Her whole ambience speaks elegance and she exudes experience, knowledge, and comfort. She is definitely the motherly type, as she diligently listens to her friends’ problems and offers advice after much careful deliberation.

This Weekend

I cannot believe it is only the fourth week or so of school, and we already have midterms next week. I feel like all the air has been sucked out of me, literally. The weeks and weekends full of playing at the lounge and procrastinating on the “optional” homework will not save me now. This weekend will be the definition of hell. The breakdown of my weekend is this: today after class, I must attend a pharmacy seminar, meet with my Christian club leader, finish chemistry chapters 1-4, catch up on math chapter 4, read about Socrates for philosophy, then go to NYU by 6, come back around 11, and go to sleep. On Friday, I wish to finish my English homework, philosophy homework, copy down my lab, and review math chapter 4. On Saturday and Sunday, although I am going home, I plan to spend both days studying for chemistry. On Monday, when I come back to the dorm, I have to study for philosophy for the next day, I have my philosophy midterm. I am freaking out.

Chronicles of an Amazing Best Friend

Selena Lim

9:00a.m.

The simple and worry-free smile as he tilts his head to look at me, how his piercing laughter echoes in the air, his large brown eyes covered in thick rectangular black-rimmed glasses, his knack of drawing attention, and the ability to make everyone love him: this is my best friend, often known by Travis, a name that does not do him justice.
            Physically, Travis is very good looking. His thick head of brown vibrant hair that covers his head from his eyebrows to his sometimes visible beard, long arms, and legs only seem to attract more people. He is naturally skinny and his clothes that consist of jackets, t-shirts from musicals, button down shirts, and classy jeans, fit him perfectly and give him a chic appearance. His handsome features and his insightful personality make him hard to ignore. He always has about ten people wrapped around his finger, vying for attention from him. He unintentionally breaks peoples’ hearts, but he never fears for what they may think of him.
            Travis‘s fearlessness gives him the courage to say whatever he wants, whenever he wants to say it. His insensitivity to some subjects often finds him trouble; however his skill to manipulate words always saves him. With these skills, he is also able to win any argument; well, that, and his absolute need to be right at all times, even when he is clearly wrong. He can stubbornly argue that humans have six arms, and in the end everyone will be convinced that what he says is true. He describes it best himself, “I'm confident and head-strong. I could care less what you think. I have clear views and opinions. You won't change them. Often, I'm professionally obnoxious and a grammar snob. Hate me.”
            These are not the things I like about him. His mistakes, spontaneity, and the things that we do together are what I love the most. Even the times we silently sat on the floor with nothing to do, make me feel as if the world stopped and only we can feel what best friends truly are. If Travis were to be described in one word, the only word that would come close is quirky. The best thing about him is his arm hair. It may sound strange but I love running my fingers through his fluffy hair, yes, arm hair. Also, when he takes off his glasses, he mildly resembles a pedophile.
            Almost every lunch time of senior year in high school was spent in McDonalds. His daily lunch was: two cheeseburgers with no pickles, 2 four piece chicken nuggets with two packets of barbeque sauce, a grilled ranch snack wrap, and a large coke. He ate everything in five bites and in less than seven minutes. During my school’s spring musical production of Cinderella, when I was stage manager and he was Prince Charming, if he missed his meal of McDonald’s it was almost guaranteed that he would be sick the next day. Another reason I gained so much weight was our weekly trips to Chili’s for dinner. I sincerely believe that I gained about fifteen pounds on Chili’s alone. Afterwards, we would spend around three hours at his house, attempting to do homework, but never actually succeeding because we were distracted by Mario on wii, or driving around in his mini cooper and singing along to soundtracks from his favorite musicals.
            McDonald’s, Chili’s, failed homework attempts, and driving around his mini cooper sums up what we did on the weekdays. Friday nights were spent downstairs in his amazing basement watching movies, as if we had nothing better to do. In the basement is where most of the unusual occurrences happened. For example, we once decided to speak in a British accent and it continued on for three weeks. We created an extensive background of where we were from and why we came “to the States.” We went to our friend’s birthday party and introduced ourselves in a British accent and said we were from Birkinshire, England. Now that I think back, we truly had no shame or sense of embarrassment.
            Only true best friends are not afraid to embarrass themselves in front of each other. Travis shares almost every detail of his life, even the things that I really should not know. He does everything to make me happy and his attention to detail impresses me each time. He surprises me with little things that I cannot even expect from a boyfriend. He does anything when I ask him to and never expects anything in return. This is my best friend, Travis: the one I share my thoughts, emotions, and life with.

We are in the Middle of a Divorce!

Selena Lim
9:00 a.m.

Family life is full of major and minor crises -- the ups and downs of health, success and failure in career, marriage, and divorce -- and all kinds of characters. It is tied to places and events and histories. With all of these felt details, life etches itself into memory and personality. It's difficult to imagine anything more nourishing to the soul.                  

-Anonymous

  At a certain point of one's life, one must grow up. With maturity and wisdom comes hardships and errors. The most impacting event in my life was experiencing the divorce of my seemingly close family. We consist of a picture book family: two almost identical twin sisters with a loving mother and an over protective father. Even now when I look at back, the divorce could not have been predicted. In almost every picture we took together, my sister and I stood or sat side by side, me on the right with my dad standing behind me and Jessi on the left with my mom standing behind her, each face lit up with a wide smile and a twinkle in our eyes. In one specific picture we took in front of a fountain in Philadelphia, Jessi is wearing a light sea water blue dress with little dark blue, light purple, and pink flowers added to liven it up, over a crisp white tee-shirt. The pink straps of the Tweetybird bag is slightly visible from her shoulders. The sunlight gleams only on the left side of her petite body while she looks blankly at the man taking the picture. Beside her to the right is my mom very fashionably wearing her thick framed sunglasses. She is wearing a three-quarter long navy blue shirt. Her gray sweater is tied over her hips which naturally leads down to her legs, covered in her favorite pair of blue jeans. On her right wrist is a watch that matches the one on my dad's left wrist. My dad is wearing a reddish orange Ralph Lauren polo shirt with sand colored trousers. All the way on the right is me dressed similarly to Jessi except that my dress is pink and it has purple and dark pink flowers on it. Still, I have the same straps poking out over my shoulders and our hairs are tied in exactly the same way. Although times like these are pleasant to reminisce, underneath the exterior we had rough nights. I probably blocked memories out for some time but I remember fights between my parents would get so rough that my mom or dad would leave. In my mom's opinion, my dad was irresponsible and wasted his time drinking with his friends. He loved going out but failed to fully contribute in our lives because he worked six days a week. My dad thought that my mom should spend more time at home. She always went out with her friends during the day and night. In the end, it was my mom who filed for divorce.
    In the beginning of our sixth grade, my family moved to a qauint and quiet little town in New Jersey. My dad and mom barely saw each other except a few hours before they went to sleep. Both of them ran their own social lives and could not stand each other. Near the end of the second semester, my parents got into a huge regretful fight and it turned mildly violent. For the next couple of days she did not return home. When she finally did, my dad slept on the couch and they mever exchanged a word. A couple of weeks later, my mom took my sister and I to a very elegant restaurant. All the adults were sipping their wine and chattering softly. Did you ever have those kinds of feelings when you just know something bad is going to happen? It is a very ominous and sepulchral feeling full of suspense and curiosity. You hope that it is going to be anything but the words "I'm dying." I guess "Your father and I are getting a divorce," is not as bad as death but to us, it was much worse. The realization that it was our mom who suggested it first was more disheartening. The end of the night was full of tears and yelling mostly from us to our mom. We refused to talk to her calmly but still we had to keep this secret from the rest of our family.
    By the end of the year we had made many friends but only one best friend. Her name is Pola and without her, my sister and I probably could not have expressed our deep sorrows with anyone. My mom understood when we told Pola because even after less than a year, she was like our sister. Pola encouraged us to stay true to our real selves, however her calm words could not restrain us. In middle school We became people who I never wish to see again. The counter part of me was a bad girl who skipped class, stole things for the fun of it, and talked rudely to adults. Bad choices lead to bad results and by eight grade we learned. Jessi and I, with three of our friends skipped school. We were caught because a girl said she saw me walking to school and suddenly disappearing. Everyone was extremely worried and even the police were called to look for us. Our friend's mom knew that her daughter had not gone to school and suspected that she had something to do with it. She snuck back into the house and caught us. Our friend's mom personally drove us to school. We were subjected to two days of in-school suspension. The windowless, in-school suspension room is horrible. Ten desks and chairs are squeezed into a tiny cramped room that looks as if it can fit only three at the most. The teachers, who I liked to think of as guards, were strict and would not let us even step outside to strech. The little room is connected to the music room so we heard singing and amateur skills on the instruments all day. A single breath is heard by the whole room and whenever someone yawned, it was impossible for it not to cause a chain effect. The room is located in the same hallway as the home economics class and the cafeteria so occasionally the smell of food would cause our stomachs to beg to be fed. These painful days were enough we thought, but the principal believed it would be better to make examples out of us by practically announcing to the whole school that we had tried to skip school but had failed. Our teachers and peers would not stop talking about it until we graduated from middle school. To this day, one of the in-school suspension teacher who is also a science teachers refers to Jessi and I as "The infamous Lim sisters."
    Enduring these school tortures were nothing compared to the disappointed looks on our parents' faces. The first thing they said to us that day after school was that they were worried out of their minds. Skipping school and punishment was not as important as our safety was to them. The tears slid down my mom's cheek as she scolded us and held us. All she could do was ask "Is this all because of me?" She had knownn how negatively effected we were with the divorce. That day, she promised to come and see us every week if possible even though she lived pretty far away and had a business to run. My dad on the other hand was not so lenient. He castigated us and repeatedly had to walk away and take a breath before coming back to speak his mind. He understood that we had troubles coping but did not see that as an excuse to skip school. The two of us had to issue official apologies to our teachers and to the parents of our friends. Since then, I have been leading a positive path in my life. Within two years I was able to raise my school marks from Cs and Ds to As and Bs. I have become a better person and do not judge people by what they do. I have come to understand some of the reasons why people may do what they do. If they are as lucky as me, they eventually will rise above their difficulties. Most imporantly, I learned that even after the divorce, the school skipping, the yelling, the punishment, we are still a family and nothing can break us apart.

Tomek Setowski

The blues, brown, orange, green, and yellow: they are used together beautifully in the portrait but they  have definite boundaries where the colors do not mix, but instead show more clearly how they differ from each other. Just by the colors alone, one can see that the author wants to show how men and women differ. Men are free, sometimes childish, and sometimes wild. On the other hand, women are gentle, kind, but ruthless. The figure on the left is hunched over, obviously very engaged in the chess match between him and the figure on the right. As I mentioned before, men are very competitive and therefore, he wants to win. However, women also know how manipulate their opponents. The author reminds us this with the apple, to symbolize Eve’s betrayal of Adam. Women and men fight as if in a chess match, scheming and planning, this can be seen by the lightning in the background. Only when they learn how to coexist can they climb up the stairs to a calmer world, which is slightly shown under the arch of their chess game. In the portrait, it is blatantly obvious that men has and always will have the upper hand. Most of the time, men are catered to, not only by women but by the government. Laws and essentially the whole world were created to agree with men. That is the reason why the figure on the left has three male resembling figures that are there to side with him. The women, sadly has no one there to agree with her.

To Be Continued

Frida Kahla “Roots”

                Told to given the woman in Frida Kahlo,s “Roots” a name, at a first glance, one might say she is just a portrait of a random woman. However, if one continues to gaze upon the picture and is yet again asked the same thing, one might apologize and answer that she reminds him of Mother Earth. Her natural light that emits bright shades of yellow and orange intermingles with the green and brown of the earth, she is one with the earth. Everything about Mother Earth; her hair, her body, is graceful, gentle, and beautiful. The earth grips onto her and keep s her close to ground.

 To be Continued

Fe(males)

We had just finished watching Titanic. My sister and I were only about eleven years old but we were crying and expressing how saddened we were by the heartbreaking ending.  My dad, however was yawning. My dad usually dislikes romance movies and chick flicks, but I was curious to see if he enjoyed it.

“Dad, wasn’t this movie sad?”

 “Yeah it was.”

Why aren’t you crying then?”

“Because I’m a man, and men don’t cry.” I thought this one sentence answer was clichéd and a pathetic excuse for not enjoying the movie. However, I was not satisfied with the answer.

I continued, “Really? At all?”

“Men only cry three times in their lives. First, when they are born, second, when they get married, and third, when their first child is born.” My dad concocts his own theories and rules for people to live by so I did not believe him, but when I asked other men, they all seemed to mimic my dad’s simple answer.

            From that day I began to observe other differences between girls and boys, such as their appearances, hobbies, personalities, etc. When I was younger I believed that all boys were the same due to genetics. However, as I got older, I learned that men and women fit into the gender stereotypes, not because it was simply the way they were born, but because beginning from childhood, they were told to act a certain way. As a woman, I was taught by my mother, grandmother, and aunts that I should eat with my mouth closed, cross my legs when I sit be able to cook, learn to clean, etc. A vision that was in inscribed my memory was of my father retreating to the couch after his job and watching television while my mother prepared dinner. It could just be the Korean culture, but I believe that these gender boxes that people are categorized in, are taught to other men and women by not only society, but more importantly the people in our lives.

            Although most of the things we associate men and women with are due to them trying to be what is considered a “real man” or a “classy woman,” some things are due to our genetic makeup. For example, girls are less concerned than males with viewing themselves as individuals, and are more concerned with making connections. That is why Prissy from Foghorn Leghorn is depressed because she does not have any children, while all the other hens do. It also explains why boys typically play in large groups with a designed activity and little intimate discussions. On the other hand, girls play in smaller groups. Girls are usually less competitive than boys and more initiative of social relationships. Foghorn Leghorn, for example was so consumed with “winning” the competition of love that he was completely blind to the fact that he did not truly love Prissy. He believed he won because Prissy chose him over another rooster. Not saying that women are not competitive, but men are more driven by their desire to win. Girls are also more open and responsive to feedback. They are more willing to listen and share their feelings. Gilligan, a psychologist believed that women have closer relationships with each other. “Grandmothers, mothers, daughters, and friends have stronger bonds than men. They talk more often and openly. Because of this, women are more empathetic and are better able to read faces.”

            It is very clear that men and women are different. They look, behave, and speak differently. However, what is unclear is whether or not men and women have these differences because of what they learned through society and other people or naturally. Also, is it only due to the physical appearance or behavior that men are categorized as men and women, women, or could men be men without having all the qualities that men are known for? In other words, if a man looks like a man, but does not behave like a man, is he still considered a man? Would a man still be a man if he cries? I argue yes. The lessons we are taught to categorize us into gender roles are stereotypical. Especially in the current times, men can cry and get groomed, and women can play sports and have jobs. The stereotypes of men and women should be left in the past.  

What Is It About 20-Somethings?

Why is it that when children act like adults, it is considered charming and when senior citizens act like children, it’s admirable, but when teenagers and adults act youthful, they are labeled irresponsible and immature? Especially in the difficult and competitive era that we live in, it is getting harder to “act like adults.” We are financially, morally, socially, and emotionally dependent on our parents and other caretakers. In the article, “What Is It About 20-Somethings?” Arnett argues that there is a new gap between children and adults, which he calls “emerging adulthood. I argue, what is “childhood,” “emerging adulthood,” and “adulthood” really? What gives us the idea that we can judge who should be classified into the three groups?


Our parents, teachers, media, the American government, and even this article send confusing messages about what they consider an “adult.”Hebig states that young people in this era seem to be aimless and too dependent on their parents, but I think there is no other way we can be. Financially, we need our parents to pay for our education because we do not have a steady career where we make money. Socially, we need our parents to provide emotional support when we go off to a college where we have no one we know. However, after we graduate and find our own jobs, we will be the ones who financially and emotionally support our parents. But, this does not mean that all young people are like this. The article includes an example of the case study of Nicole, who is a 23-year-old independent person. Apparently, she is considered an emerging adult because although she lives in her own apartment, goes to school, has a job, and provides for her siblings and their mentally disabled mother, she is not married or has kids of her own. How can this be an emerging adult, is this not what we just consider an “adult?” The practice of classifying people as “adults” or “emerging adults” strictly based on the definition should be reconsidered. One such case in this article deals with Erikson’s theory of development.

In Erikson’s “Eight Stages of Development,” there are eight age groups, which represent stages. In each age group they have different traits, such as intimacy vs. isolation. Arnett disagrees with Erikson saying that the age group is too broad. However, I believe when Erikson made his theory of development, he was making a general assumption of the different ages he felt defined each group. I think that Erikson’s theory should never be followed to the exact definition, because his theory is just that: a theory.
___________

The most interesting statement I got from this article was, “So we’re caught in a weird moment, unsure whether to allow young people to keep exploring and questioning or to cut them off and tell them just to find something, anything, to put food on the table and get on with their lives.” I think that rather than grouping all young people together and deciding a right path for us, it would be more beneficial to the world if we are allowed to decide for individual selves. No one knows for sure what adulthood requires. What it may mean to one person might not even matter to another. Therefore, adulthood, I believe is a personal and individual stage that differs for everybody.

-Selena (;