The Grudge

It frightens me how one can invoke a killing intent over petty reasons.  All thought process and emotional stability cease to exist when a person is overwhelmed by the desire to kill.  He does not bother to think about the consequences nor does he think about how he will cover up his crime.  The only thing that moves him is the incessant chanting of his brain, "kill...kill...kill."

How many times have we said "I'll kill you" to a friend while horsing around?  Sure, it may seem like a joke at first because killing someone in the act of making merry is highly unlikely.  Yet, what are the ramifications of that statement, "I will kill you?", even when just having fun?

Could it be possible that people are inherently murderous creatures?  Maybe that is the reason why we gain satisfaction from bullying and threatening others over trivial things. 

Formspring is a prime example of the manifestation of the killing intent.  There were people who apparently found it amusing to write "Why don't you just kill yourself?" on my friend's wall.  Just what did my friend do to deserve such treatment?  How can any teenager, their life full of ambitions and blooming with forthcoming possibilities for greatness, be urged to give up their lives for the satisfaction of crude, immature individuals?

Life is something that cannot be taken on a whim.  Yes, the idea of a despicable person being liquidated is temporarily satisfying, but remember that even the most disliked person has friends, lovers, and dreams. 

Today, I was the victim of my own killing intent.  I rose from my bed, half-frenzied from sleep-deprivation and stress, and grudgingly boarded the school bus to begin my day.  When I got to school I encountered my reagent to my killing intent.  It was a girl that had used her good looks and charm to screw with my head and make a complete asinine out of myself.  She was chattering away with another guy, who was completely unaware that this cute-looking girl had hurt countless number of other people with her persona. 

I looked at the girl.  Her face broad with an ingratiating smile and her body curved in a coy posture, she resembled a teenage Mrs. Robinson.  My anger at her boiled over.  She seemed so nonchalant about herself that it made me want to smash the glass door through which I was observing the whole scene.  My hands curled into fists and my jaw began to ache from being clenched so hard.  I imagined myself running her through with a knife.  As I envisioned this, my lips twisted into a crooked smile.

Then the killing intent dissipated.  For the rest of the day, I felt awful for having had such cruel and violent thoughts.  I wanted to cry when I got home but I was too numb from my killing intent to do so.  I never imagined that I could have had such a vivid murder scene conjured in my very own head just because some girl had irked me with her insincerity.  God, I felt terrible.  I almost wished that I was the one who was dead.

Today, I had demonstrated that I too, am crude and immature.  The only difference between the Formspring bullies and I is that I had kept my killing intent to myself.  But otherwise, we are all the same.  We are always at each other's throats, ready to strike at the moment a bare spot is unveiled.

Can we ever be freed of this killing intent?  Can we ever learn to genuinely love each other?  I wish I could forgive people and move on, but to no avail; I still hold grudges against people that certainly don't deserve them.  I get annoyed even at well-acquainted friends when they reveal their flaws out of the blue.

I'm afraid I've steadily deteriorated in both character and maturity.  Hopefully there will come a time when this downward spiral comes to an end and a new chapter in my life brings to me the true meaning of virtue and happiness.  I'm not going to stop searching for that time.  I will make it happen, for no one is as miserable as the vengeful, grudge-fixated individual.

I Wanna Become a Good Kid

They tell me that I need to do this and that.  They say that I act crude and boorish and they tell me that I need to change and be more accepting and caring.  I look back at them.  Nothing.  No ideal.  No vision.  Pure sanctimony.

They tell me that I am up to no good.  So they guide me through their archive of morals and ethics and decency.  They show me pictures, stories, films, moralistic paraphernalia.  And yet while the show goes on, they flash their crooked grins and resume their self-indulgence.

Preach on.  I will listen.  Show me the way to righteousness and purity.  Show me how to become the ideal human being.  I will listen.  I will conform.  I won't complain.  I shan't rebel.  I will gladly  adhere to your sententious words.

 I wanna become a good kid after all.


Oh boy, I can't wait until the next lecture.  I will pay for the lesson, don't worry about the money, I've got it.  4:00?  ...okay, let's do this.  Time to become moralized!  I feel like I'm getting enriched everyday!  Preach on brother, preach on!  ...this program has helped me become a better person.  I am so great that I joined it.


...and yet while the show goes on, they flash their crooked grins and resume their self-indulgence.

Terrorist

Novemeber 18, 2009.  The sun rose at 6:00 AM and greeted the slumbering residents of a New Jersey suburban town with its warm embrace.  At 7:00, approximately 1100 students of the local high school had emptied their breakfast bowls.  At 7:35, they were in school, shuffling through hallways to get to class.  In the mean time, teachers straightened out desks and chairs, anticipating another bustling session in the midst of an even more bustling environment.  Janitors began their grueling work, and the school kitchens came alive with the salty aroma of French fries and hamburgers. Yes, it was just another typical day in West Windsor Plainsboro High School South.  Everything was going according to the schedule.  Then a terrorist paid a visit.  That terrorist was I.


I wore thick sunglasses, a white surgical mask, and a purple hooded shirt.  My objective was not to simulate terrorist activities nor demonstrate my ignorance of Halloween’s actual date, but to challenge the common belief that a masked identity indicates terrorism.


A mask holds many meanings.  It can mean secrecy.  It can also mean sickness.  But many times, people associate masks with illegal activities, the most favorable one of them being terrorism. 


Terrorism is omnipresent.  In the news, we see Al Quaeda militants beheading innocent bystanders.  In the movies, we see Russian extremists hijack Air Force 1.  In the papers, we read about American soldiers getting mangled by the dangerous traps set up by the Taliban.  The motives behind each terrorist organization may vary, but one thing for certain is that all terrorists wear masks.  So says society.


I put on my mask because I wanted to show other people that underneath my disguise I was still Minjeh Lee, a 16-year old Korean American sophomore at West Windsor Plainsboro High School South.  No one believed me.  They all thought I was a terrorist. 

“Who is that kid?  Is he a terrorist?”

“Oh my god, a terrorist!”

“Dude, you look like a terrorist.”

“Why are you dressed like a terrorist?”

“Hey, when’s the next Jihad?”


I didn’t understand.  Why did my mask make me a terrorist?  Don’t non-terrorists also wear masks?  Take superheroes for example.  Batman, Ironman, Green Lantern, and Spiderman all wear masks.  Nobody calls these guys terrorists.  So why did not people think that I was a justice-defending, liberty-loving masked hero?


I walked into my American Studies class to find out why.  My teacher, Mrs. Schomburg made no initial comment on my appearance but stared at me for a good amount of time.  Then she began teaching.  After five minutes, she paused abruptly and asked me to take my mask off.  I asked her why.


“It’s creeping me out.”


I tried to reason with her why my mask should not disturb her in anyway. I was not pretending to be a “creepy” figure nor was I trying to gain attention from other people by blatantly acknowledging my new “outfit”.  I was only sitting in class, listening to her lecture on the Continental Congress.   I also told her that my external appearance had nothing to do with my objectives.


“I don’t care,” she replied.  “You look very intimidating.”


Still, I did not take my mask off.  I just did not understand why she could not disregard my appearance and continue teaching.


“Please, please take it off.”


At this point, I felt compassion for the lady, because from the way she was begging me to take my mask off, she must have found my appearance genuinely frightening.  I acted accordingly, and took off my mask.


The next day, I put on my mask again and went to school as usual.  I had chemistry first.  I walked in nonchalantly and settled down on my desk.  Mrs. Jaworsky, my chemistry teacher, glanced at me and then told me to take off my mask. 


I did not answer her.


“You have to take it off or you will get a zero.”


I still did not take it off.


“Look, you stay here with the mask on you will get a zero.  You really want to keep that thing on, you will have to go the counselor’s office and tell her why you were excused from class.  You will still get a zero though.”


Way to hit my weak spot, Mrs. Jaworsky, I thought.  I did not want to give up on my project easily, but I did not want to take any academic repercussions either.  I thought hard with both hands on my head. 


“Stay here!  Stay here!”  My classmates exclaimed.  The room filled with raucous chants and hoots.  I knew what I had to do.  I took off my mask and stayed in class.


The purpose of transcendentalism is not to conform.  Had I stayed in class with my outfit on, I would have conformed to the desires of my classmates.  Instead, I followed my inner thoughts and concluded that academic excellence was the priority motive.  I took off my mask. 


“It’s the rule,” Mrs. Jaworsky said.  “You can’t wear anything like that in school.”


Why? 

Because it obviously means you’re up to no good with that thing on your head, you pesky terrorist.


Her harsh blue eyes seemed to bore that thought into my head.


My friends thought I was terrorist.  My teachers thought I was a terrorist.  Pretty much everyone in WWPHSS thought I was a terrorist.  I only had to put on a mask and shades to enjoy such a grand conviction.  I came to realize that people associate masked figures immediately to terrorism because society makes them believe so.  The media shows countless images of battered streets and destroyed buildings, followed by even more images of masked men with guns and knives.  The media pumps fear into people by consistently channeling information of the latest terrorist activity on screen.  Even the Board of Education prohibits the wearing of hoods in campus.  Why?  It is because they are afraid.  They are afraid that a hooded or masked student will come to school and shoot everyone, because that is what hooded and masked people do on the television.


What is surprising though, is that not all terrorists mask themselves. The men who were responsible for the 9/11 bombings did not wear masks. They were dressed like average businessmen.  The men who bombed the Alfred P. Murrah Federal Building in Oklahoma City were not masked.  The gunman Charles Carl Roberts did not wear a mask when he held the Amish school kids hostage.  The two boys who wreaked havoc at Columbine High School did not wear any masks.  They headed right in with their guns and shot at everyone.


If my peers and teachers at WWPHSS had reasoning skills, they would not have associated my disguise with terrorism.  Instead, they blindly believed what society told them to believe.  Mrs. Schomburg’s remarks and Mrs. Jaworsky’s icy looks were not derived from their thoughts.  They were reflections of society’s stereotype on terrorists.  If I were an actual terrorist, I would not have elaborated my appearance in such a way to draw so much attention.  That would have greatly hindered my motive in destroying the school or kidnapping a faculty member (hypothetically, of course.  I would never do such things).


Fear of terrorism comes not from a genuine fear of terrorism, but from the crude images that society provides for the masses to absorb.  Because of this irrational fear, people continue to believe society, as if believing is the only protection from harm.  Yet, people “must not be hindered by the name of goodness, but explore if it be goodness” (Emerson, “Self-Reliance”).  They must see through the masks and the headscarves and find out for themselves what truly defines a terrorist.  Once they realize the true characteristics of a terrorist, they must work to understand the mindset of a terrorist.  Through peaceful negotiations and tolerance, the violent urges of even the most vicious terrorist can be pacified.  It has been proven that FBI agents were able to extract much more valuable information from terrorists and terror suspects by speaking to them in their native tongue and treating them with respect, than the CIA who tried to milk the information from the terrorists through water-boarding and other forms of torture.


As the project came to a conclusion, I realized that transcendentalism was an impractical and overly idealistic concept for the 21^st century.  I certainly agreed with the idea of self-reliance and some parts of civil disobedience, but I noticed that the general concept of transcendentalism did not stress the importance of being compassionate towards other people.  I am not one to ask, “Are they my poor?” (Emerson, “Self-Reliance”) when I am asked to donate for charity.  I took off my mask when I realized that I was tormenting my teacher. 


I had stood up for my beliefs at the expense of making others feel uncomfortable. When my peers avoided me and called me terrorist-related names, I held my head high and thought myself as a rugged individualist.  As my experiment progressed, no one accosted me.   I certainly did not like that.  I learned that I greatly appreciate human interaction.  I realized that I am much more sociable than I thought I was, and preferred developing friendships to obsessing over personal convictions.  Emerson said, “It is easy in solitude to live after our own, but the great man is he who in the midst of the crowd keeps with perfect sweetness the independence of solitude” (Emerson, “Self-Reliance”).  I am not courageous enough to follow this philosophy at a daily basis, and I certainly do not wish to alienate myself from other people just to convey my sense of self-reliance and civil disobedience.  I love my friends and I love life too much to become an insensitive hermit.  After all, even the most self-reliant person cannot do everything on his own.  His nonconformist ideas will not take care of him when he is ill, but his friends and family will.  Sorry Waldo.  I think it is time you went looking for a different audience. 

Junkyard

I hate the suburbs.  Contrary to the common belief that the city holds the worthless scum of society, I believe that suburbia is responsible for that role.  The suburb that we live in, this foundation called "West Windsor" reminds me not of a community, but of a garbage dumpster.  West Windsor's superficial appearance is aesthetically pleasing, but I've met the worst kind of people here.  The bloated ignoramuses, the arrogant assholes, the robotic peons.

WW-P

Everyday, I stare into the faces of my peers. The variety. The diversity. It is immense. A sense of pride crawls through my veins. Where else can the paragon of America be seen besides WW-P? Where?

On Writing

The painter brings life to a canvas with masterful strokes from his brush.  The musician creates landscapes with his sonorous tones and delectable harmonies.  The writer however, weaves his words, just as a spider would weave its web.

I am not a good writer.  I am however, an improving writer.  If I were a spider, my web-weaving abilities would be placed at a rudimentary level.

Writing is never writing.  Writing is rewriting.  It always is.  It is renewal.  That is the reason why writing is so difficult.  It requires immense concentration and discipline to be a good writer.  I admit that I lack those two qualities.

The one thing I am deathly afraid of when it comes to writing is when I cannot convey my thoughts with words. To make up for the lack of quality, I use quantity.  Henceforth, my writing looks impressive due to its bombastic superficiality and length, but lacks direction and meaning.  For example, if I were to write "the cat, feeling as if its personal boundaries were encroached upon by the irksome intentions of the mouse, was aroused by such extreme aggression that it proclaimed its initial impulse through a rather unorthodox negotiation which consequentially removed the mouse from its existence," no one would have known that I actually meant "The mouse pissed off the cat, so the cat killed the mouse."  This sort of writing really, really annoys me and most people.  It's a tangled web of words.

However, I adore subtlety.  Let me cite an example.  "You called down the thunder, now reap the whirlwind."
A perfect metaphor for a nuclear strike.  Damn, that quote just runs chills down my back whenever I read it.  It's very simple.  Anyone can read it and understand it, yet it holds so much meaning.  Ahem, I am NOT endorsing nuclear warfare by any means.  I just picked the quote because it just impressed me so.

I wish to write concisely and subtly at the same time.  However, being concise requires analysis and being subtle requires creativity.  Analysis and creativity do not always go hand in hand, because it is difficult to be analytical while being creative, and vice versa.

Analysis requires concentration.  Creativity requires exploration.  The master writer takes analysis and creativity together an forms an alloy of the two.  That alloy conceives great, beautiful writing.  And if I could do that someday, I'd be the happiest guy on Earth.  No joke.

You're A Genius

In every person lies dormant a genius.  Once conceived to this world, it is the sole purpose of that individual to discover his genius and hone it to the proximity of perfection.  Perfection is impossible, but it is certainly worth a lifetime to attempt it.  


When genius is mentioned, we immediately think of child performers and wizards.  In my opinion, there is no such thing as prodigy.  Prodigy merely defines an early achievement of advanced status.  It does not define character, piety, nor discipline. Scary talent amazes me just as anyone else, but what truly awes me even more is the amount of blood, sweat, and tears an individual sheds to sculpt his talent into genius.


The reason why we believe in prodigy is because we are delusional.  We fail to see, let alone believe the hard work that so-called "prodigies" put into their field of expertise.  We are inclined to acknowledge that their amazing skills are merely inherent.  This delusion therefore discourages the majority to hone their genius, because their negative mindset that genius is an innate concept diminishes their will to match their skills to that of prodigies.    


Innate concept?  Quite the contrary.  Genius is attainable by everyone.  When one looks for his genius however, he is consistently faced with an arch-nemesis: laziness.  Laziness is the poison of progress.  It wastes time.  It discourages people.  It creates regrets.  We are not willing to overcome our laziness and surpass our bloated selves to perform to our fullest potential.  To succumb to laziness is to relinquish your genius.  Relinquishing your genius is equivalent to that of yielding your happiness, for it is our genius that we are able to pursue our passions and live happily.  


Even though we find the heavy chains of our own laziness cumbersome, we sit still with those chains on our legs and let the consequences of indolence act upon us.  We lose interest in our passions.  We lose interest in life.  We lose interest in happiness.  We become sluggards, mediocre people, fat bloated imbeciles.  


I am not averse to lazy people.  In fact, I am friends with many of them and I too am quite lazy.  However, my biggest turnoff is when a person who has already discovered his genius neglects to perfect it.  The negligent one lies on the couch, his eyes glued to the television, his mouth hanging open like a cavern.  Every minute of his wasteful life, his genius deteriorates because he refuses to pick up his instrument and practice, he ignores the work that he is obligated to complete, and he shuts himself from the advice of his peers and parents.  


"You're so smart and talented, if you just got up off your lazy ass and tried you'd be brilliant!"  How many times have we heard that?  How many of your parents say that increasingly annoying pet phrase of theirs?  It may be annoying, but it speaks the truth.  To neglect your genius is to neglect yourself.  If you neglect yourself, no one should be obligated to any favors from you.


Genius requires patience and perseverance.  It is a tedious task but immensely rewarding.  However, to be a prodigy and be negligent and apathetic is not genius.  It is pure stupidity.     




        

School is Hell

12:11 am.  Should go to bed.  Eyelids feel like lead weights.  Fingers itch.  Face hurts.  Pretty much half dead.


I'm hungry too.  Didn't get to play my clarinet at home today.  Played  a bit at school.  Damn, school's taking too much time away from my artistic ventures.


I've mentioned in one of my previous blog posts that I advocate hard work and diligence.  In this entry, I shall criticize how we students are overworked and screwed over by our school system.  

You may think I'm contradictory.  You may think I'm a hypocrite.  You may even think that I'm full of shit (which is true) and will cease to read this blog.

I do not believe that I'm being contradictory nor hypocritical.  I admit that I am a full-time bullshitter but my BS is substantial.      

I am merely trying to convey my sense of balance in our academic careers.  You may disagree with me.  I do not care.  This blog is open to interpretations and contentions.

Let me begin with the basics. School starts too early.  WAY too early.  Everyday we get up at 6 or 7 in the morning to brush our teeth, get dressed, and wait for the bus.  Around 7:45 school starts.  This morning routine doesn't seem that bad at first glance.  But in context to an average high school kid's life, it is quite a drudgery.  

Due to the immense amount of homework and rigor of extra curricular activities, we sacrifice countless hours of our free time to fulfill our obligations as students.  The problem is, we are not given enough time to do all these things, let alone any time to relax.  

Study halls are futile.  They are noisy, distracting, and too crowded.  Consequentially, we flock to the school library to study but the admission to the library is strictly limited.

Why have study hall when no one gets studying done?  This "class" is unnecessary and only fills up time in our high school schedule.  It should be omitted.  

Lunch time is too short.  It should be at least an hour long everyday.  We have 6 classes in one day, each class being an hour long and only a 45-minute lunch period?  Preposterous.  Lunch, or any other meal is something that should never be rushed.  We spend a good deal of time, at most 10 minutes to buy inedible school lunch and grab a seat and eat.  That leaves us with 35 minutes to relax.  That is NOT enough.  We should be given an hour each day in school to completely lose ourselves in our own worlds and forget everything about grades and tests and quizzes.  This is not called slacking off.  It's renewal.  Sharpening the saw.

The reason why we burn out is because we are constantly overworked.  I am not saying that we should screw high school and be idle the rest of our lives.  I am a hard worker.  I think everyone should be a hard worker.  But our school system wastes our time with such unnecessary crap such as poster projects and regurgitation of reading assignments, while simultaneously cramming our schedule with stupid study halls and labs.  We don't learn anything new by repeating what we did in elementary school, and our brains don't function properly without sufficient relaxation.  Please, lose the trivial ceremonies and let's get some real schooling.  Let us have a bit more fun and we will repay you by being better students.
To be blunt, school should start at 9 and end at 1.  'Nuff said.   

Homework Robot Syndrome

I think I have a nasty disease. It's called Homework Robot Syndrome. All day today, I have been chained to one textbook or another, copying out pointless excersises.

A sneak peek into my head: dimensional analysis. fml. density. wtf. chirstopher columbus. what a dick. mission indians. i need a nap. corn. i'm hungry. the spanish. oh crap i have spanish homework too. fmlfmlfml!!!!!!!!!!!!

Seriously, I can feel myself wasting away. The fun and creative and alive parts of my brain are turning to dust from suppression and disuse. The parts of me being used are the dull dead memorization and the mindless copying. Flesh slowly hardens into metal. Brains melt into textbook puree. Arm becomes an extension of pen, keyboard, and mouse. Legs shrivel away. Voice becomes a forgotten implement. Expressions withdraw into the face until there are only two large, vacant eyes, staring endlessly at the page or screen.

There were two instances today in which I felt alive at all:
1. When I went to go fly a kite for 10 minutes in my backyard (it was SO FUN until I had to go back inside)
2. When I chased my sister around the house for mocking me (that was fun until I realized I still had 50 more problems to do if I wanted to have a chance at not failing the chem test)

It really sucks. I hate not being able to talk to people. Not being able to create. Not being able to live.

On Education

Everyday I go to a school crammed with 1000 students.  Scratch that.  I go to a ZOO crammed with 1000 students.  Oh yeah, we don't have walls either.  How are we supposed to focus in this kind of a work environment?  

Where has all of our taxpayer money gone to?  Instead of building a new theater and a swimming pool, that huge chunk of 
money should have been used to build walls in grimy, old High School South.  However, I am not here to discuss the fiscal decisions of our Board of Ed., nor rant about the shabby structures of our school.

Education fails in our school district, if not the entire country.  The only reason why students at WWP HSS succeed is due to the painstaking effort that they put into their academic work and activities.  I have yet to meet a teacher who greatly inspired me to pursue learning to the fullest extent.  

From the way our teachers teach us how to "learn" the subject, I have to say that either they don't know how to teach very well or they just don't enjoy their job.  Because of this, the learning process becomes a drudgery instead of an incentive to develop intellectually.

How does staring at a powerpoint for 45 minutes straight evoke a passionate desire to fully grasp the fundamentals of a social studies topic?  How does being placed in classes supervised by spaced-out and irresponsible teachers inspire students to develop good work ethics and time management?  Unless the student applies himself with more intensity, it is rather difficult to learn in such circumstances.

The way we are taught to learn is highly counterproductive.  We are forced to analyze and analyze and analyze some more.  This is evident especially when it comes to writing essays.  Our creative freedom is crushed with equivocating prompts.  We no longer can enjoy a book properly because of that essay due next week.  Furthermore, no one is properly taught how to write an essay.  Our language arts teachers never go fully into detail on how to craft a legitimate essay nor do they concentrate on our grammar and comprehension skills.  It's always an essay and then another essay and then another one.  To add some more bad news, the feedbacks that we receive from our teachers are flimsy and ambiguous.  But we students are at fault too.  We tend to be passive instead of being proactive.  We lounge lazily in our rooms when we could dig in deeper into the course material and discover new possibilities in scoring better on the next test.  Hence forth, we end up blaming our teachers for everything.    


I also believe that we students perform poorly academically because our schools try to cram too many subjects into our heads in one sitting.  Consequentially, we are forced to regurgitate that mishmash of reluctantly acquired information through tests and quizzes.  


Passive learning fails to enrich as much as active learning.  Take a look at Finland.  That country has the best educational system in the world.  There are several reasons for this.

1) Interactive learning is highly encouraged.

2) The best teachers are hired.

3) Classes are fun.  Therefore, the students actually enjoy the workload even if completing it means sacrificing free time.

4) All this is possible because the money is utilized for appropriate purposes.

The reason why the United States cannot compete with Finland on education is because the United States is a militaristic nation.  Too much of our taxpayer money has been allocated towards manufacturing arms and waging unnecessary wars.

If we students want to experience a whole new educational process that is more enriching and dynamic than ever before, our nation must first go through a paradigm shift.


The United States must dismantle all of its military posts from the world.  These establishments are a waste of money and resources.  Second, the United States economy must significantly reduce its dependence on war factories.  I cannot tell you just how perplexed I am at how much money our nation puts into and makes from generating killing machines and apocalypse-inducing man-of-war's.  Why should we spend all that money to blow up innocent citizens and destroy homes?  Why can't we use that money to renovate schools, aid students with learning disabilities, and help foreign students adjust  to their new environments?  Why must we always solve everything with violence?  Is this really what we want to leave in this chapter of American history, that the United States is willing to blow everyone up and that we Americans are bellicose, gun-loving, racists?  We must not repeat history.  Remember Vietnam.  Remember Iraq.


We should no longer enroll in jam-packed high schools and memorize pointlessly from textbooks and forget everything after an exam.  The maximum number of students per school should be limited to 300.  It is better to learn in a quiet space than in a hectic, wall-less environment.  


Interactive learning must be asserted strongly in kindergartens and primary schools.  This will motivate children to learn at a young age and succeed in their future academic careers.  Writing and economics should be taught intensively in middle schools.  If students firmly grasp the fundamentals of those two subjects, they will be set to pursue lucrative careers in their adulthood.  Once they finish middle school, specialized high schools shall be available to accommodate each student's respective interests in a certain subject.  Finally, the concept of "Ivy League" or "elite" universities should be abolished.  Every college and university must be equally prestigious and not be ranked above or below one another.   


Changing the American educational system would be equivalent to ameliorating the current American image.  With a newly improved schooling system, our nation shall conceive more critical thinking individuals.  We shall in turn, appoint future leaders that will guide our country alongside the morals that we have been fighting for since 1776.  We will no longer be a gun-loving people.  We will no longer be accused of supporting a system that takes innocent lives and segregates races.  We shall be progressive.  We shall prosper.  We shall lead with peace and freedom.  


My wishful thinking is that this change will take place soon.  However, I do not see that in the forecast.  Any sort of reform takes time.  For now, we must endure and make do with what we have.  Good luck to you all, fellow students.  I wish you luck at surpassing the banalities of our high school's educating methods and hope that one day, all this will change forever.

Contradiction

It seems like all anybody wants to be anymore is different. To "fight the system". To "stand out". And for some reason, that includes having the iPod with the most bands that no one has ever heard of. This has become such a fad that it has developed it's own little stereotype. The "nonconformity" stereotype.

Unfortunately, I must admit that I have fallen into this little group of people. If everyone wants this one, I want that. It's a nasty little habit, I must admit. Picking for the sake of it being the least picked, I mean. But I guess that's who I am after a point. Someone whose trying too hard to stand out. Like most teenagers.

Didn't we all feel so darn great when we were the only ones who new about "3OH!3" and "Death Cab for Cutie", bands that are very popular now. And all of a sudden, it isn't cool anymore to listen to them...because everybody does.

I actually thought this comically fit into the topic.

Skinnies, dirty converse, vintage setting. You know the drill.

Location: Bathroom at my mom's office. ._.

Photographer: Me. www.lookingglasschariots.deviantart.com

Camera: Sony Cybershot DSC-H50

Editing: Picnik (LOL)

And..those feet belong to me :D

Yo Mama Is So Lovin' that She Will Give Birth to You

I am an advocate of hard work.  That's pretty funny because I am one of the laziest human beings you will ever meet.  I never pick up my room.  I always have to be informed to take out the trash.  I fail to keep my promises on time.  Yet, I support hard work.


I guess it's because watching other people work hard to their fullest potential inspires me to the point that my all-time low self-esteem experiences a slight lift.  Hardworking people awe me more than prodigies.  Genius is overrated folks.  Even Mozart put in 10,000 hours of practicing before initiating his musical career.  


Many of us ask ourselves, "Ok, they work hard, but what's in it for me?"  And I just can't help but shake my head sadly at how brutally selfish and narrow-minded us adolescents are.  I sadly admit that I am one of the most selfish people that I know.  I find myself indulging in trivial matters when I can be devoting my time honing my intellectual capacities and musical abilities.  


The lazy student does not, cannot, and will not understand why he has to put in the workload for his subjects at school.  All that matters is that, that one extra honors class is going to cost him a weekend of loafing around or that one book to read is going to reduce an hour of his usual 3-hour long TV marathon.  He does not bring into mind that by succeeding academically, he is doing not only himself a big favor, but also to the people who love and treasure him the most: his parents.


Our parents are very under-appreciated.  We fail to realize that they are sagacious people.  Through our hormone-induced vision, we view them as grouchy pricks.  This is wrong.  They were the ones who conceived us in the first place.  Think of your mother.  Can you imagine how much pain she must have been through just to give birth to you?  Why, she could have decided she didn't want a baby at all.  Yet, she endured all that pain just so you could experience this world. 


Our parents are the only ones who love us unconditionally.  They feed us, they shelter us, they shower us with their undying support.  True, some other parents may show these qualities in questionable ways but no matter how "Asian" or anal the parent may be, their sole purpose is to guarantee that their child will have a good life in the future.


If we do not work hard, we have no right whatsoever to demand favors from our parents.  If we do not work hard, our parents will no longer be obligated to feed us and guide us.  Many of you parent-haters and individualists may rail against my argument, but hear me out.  Your parents love you, and they will love you forever no matter what.


Don't belittle studious asian kids.  They are merely repaying the tremendous deed their parents have bestowed upon them. Try to refrain from talking back to your mom next time.  She means well.  Listen to your dad's advice for a change.  He means well.  I have failed to do these things many times and I regret them to the core of my bone.  


I love my mom and dad.  They deserve so much more than what they are getting from me now.  I long to repay them one day.  The least I can do right now is to apply myself and work hard.  As corny as it may sound, that is the only way I can make myself and them happy.  






  

Murder

Forgive me reader, for I have sinned. I have taken the life of another individual. Yes, I am a murderer, a despicable, selfish killer. The other day, I was waiting for my dad to pick me up from school. Like a ruminating cow, I gazed lazily at the ground and shuffled my feet this way and that on the grainy pavement. I must've cut a comical figure, sporting a beret and a checkered green sweater complete with black Converse high-tops. As I was staring blankly at the ground, a spider trailed across the tiny crevice that separated two wedges of pavement from each other. Skittle, skittle, skittle, it frantically made its way to its unknown destination. My peripheral vision caught sight of this poor creature, and with one solid movement I squashed it flat.

I removed my foot and stared at the spider's gruesome transformation. At first I felt lightheaded for having done something that was slightly exciting. Then I was overwhelmed with guilt and remorse. I had committed murder. I had butchered an innocent living being for no good reason.

I am not overreacting. I do not believe that this situation should be taken lightly. We fail to realize that even spiders have a place in society. Why had I squished the spider? It hadn't done anything to me. Moreover, it was probably more afraid of me than I of it. Why had I squished the spider? What justifies this cruel decision?

Nothing. Nothing justifies it. All the spider did was exist within my vicinity. And I had ended its innocent existence.

I can't help but wonder what the spider must've seen before its death. A huge sole descending swiftly upon its tiny head...and then darkness. How awful.

Picture a monster movie. Does the monster give a flying shit about the humans that it destroys and devours and rips apart? Hell no. A monster is what we become when we squish insects and spiders for no good reason. Why did he squish that moth? Because it was on the bathroom wall. Did it do anything remotely detrimental to your health or well being? No. Why did she kill that beetle? Because it looked ugly and disgusting and ew ew ew.... But did it try to attack you? No.

You may argue and defend your stance on killing insects by setting examples such as "Well, mosquitoes sting and cockroaches are a nuisance". And that is exactly why we have to keep their population in check.  The activities of mosquitoes and cockroaches are detrimental to our health. They carry disease, they carry filth, and they spread it all across our homes. They spread pestilence that are capable of wiping out societies.  If these pests get out of control, who knows what will happen.  Hence forth, when one kills a mosquito or a cockroach, it is not murder. It is an execution of a dangerous convict.

Why did I squish that poor spider? There was plenty of room for both of us out in the open. It just happened to be there. Why did I kill it? Are we really that selfish? Have we not learned how to value lives after countless life lessons drilled into our brains?

I find the hypocrisy of humans fascinating. We berate the Holocaust and the genocide of Darfur, yet we do equally treacherous things to organisms that deserve a place in this world. If a giant monster were to appear and destroy everything in sight, we'd finally understand how insects and spiders view us through their eyes.

Why should we feel sorry for ourselves when disasters strike? If there was such thing as a God, would he even care that his own creations were dying by the millions? Probably not, for God is too divine beyond our comprehension and to him, we are nothing but little insects.