[Title Undecided]

     It is one of those days when you just want to lie down on a sandy beach and feel the full breeze of nature flowing from your toes to the tip of your hair.  On a november evening, two people were standing there, on some lonesome beach, enjoying the ocean breeze. Carrying the saltiness, perhaps from the tears of the life in the ocean, of fishes, the wind tickled their faces. The scent of the ocean might have been uncomfortable for someone else, but these two were used to it, or as some might say, insensible to it. 

     The sun was setting on the horizon, setting the sea on fire, and under the rays of the setting sun, each and every one of the sand particles seemed different. One had a crystal-like glow to it. Another had a reddish glow, which might be a reflection of the sunlight. Some were non-reflective. All of them had the smoothness though, coming from the long years in which they were pushed to one side and to then to the other. All of them would have come from the same rock, the same mountain, and carved down by the same waves. But all of them were different. 

     On the other side of that chaotic harmony, the waves were still rolling in and out, each time gently washing the feet of the two, standing there on the seashore. Although those two, a man and a woman, were firmly standing on the sand, they seemed to be moved by the tickling hands of the waves. Washing away the sand each time and filling it with the coolness of the water from miles away, the waves were dancing. Although the two were ignorant about it, the waves came in and out, then came in again as if to give them another chance. 

     The man who had gray hair, but a stern face that might have seen out of place for his age, was looking at the setting sun. The last rays of the sun were focused on the man which made him look all the more stern and sincere. The women, much younger than the man, was standing a couple of steps behind the man. She had moved out of the reach of the waves. Looking at the sun, her blond hair reflected the sunlight and the shadows created on her face emphasized her beauty--and how mismatching she looked in the scene. Her feet were deeply rooted in the sand, covered, and seemed to be scared by the dance of the tide, of the dreams of Poseidon himself. 

     The man took a step forward, trying to enjoy the last moments of the shinning sun. The women retreated another step, looking down at her feet. Then for a moment, she took a glimpse at the sun and the tide. But as if caught for some misdeed, she looked down at her feet again. The wind changed, climbing down from the land to the ocean as if to follow the setting sun. Following the wind, the woman’s danced towards the longing sun.

**Assignment for Mr. Tame from last semester

[The Martian Chronicles] Quotation

     After the chapter "Rocket Summer", the rest of the story is located in Mars. Through the year 1999, we are told about two expeditions to Mars that have failed. This time, at year 2000, the people on Earth have prepared a third expedition and the first chapter of the year, "the taxpayer" describes the scene from the perspective of a citizen of Ohio. He argues with the control station of the launch site that he, as a good citizen who has payed tax for this whole expedition, has a right to join the team of astronauts.
     The reason for wanting to leave apparently is because there will be an atomic war on Earth in a few years. But behind all that there was a phrase that caught my attention as I read the novel. It was a phrase that the taxpayer said, "anybody with any sense wanted to get away from Earth". Although on the surface, it only referred to the atomic war that was supposed to happen quite soon, however the phrase itself seemed to imply much more. The thought that nobody would want to live on this planed anymore is in a way, a direct criticism to the world of the period in which Bradbury wrote the novel, and also the world in which the reader lives in. I may be over interpreting a simple phrase but for me it was one of the most powerful phrases in the novel up until now.

[Traumatic Event] The flag

     Facing the breeze carrying the fresh scent of fall, he looked down. Almost two thousand people were looking up towards the podium and the boy. There was a girl next to him but at the moment, the boy felt like he was the center of the world. From the perception of a twelve year old, receiving attention from such a crowd was more than overwhelming.

     To the right of the boy was a flag. In its velvet glory under the autumn sun, the flag danced slightly to the wind. For the boy, the flag was the source of his current position and the companion of the glorious moment. In a moment after the principal's speech, the boy would grip the silver body of the flag and let it free. But for the time being, he was listening to the prolonged speech that he has heard every year. He just stood there, with his black hair blown by the wind and glasses reflecting the sunlight.
     Only a moment has passed but the boy seemed to be growing impatient at every syllable pronounced. After the dreadful moment, it became his turn to stand in front of the podium. He gave a short speech given to him by the school and walked towards the flag. Gently grasping the metal rod, he pulled as if he was pulling the ancient sword from a rock.
     He seemed astonished for a moment, perhaps because of the unexpected heaviness of the flag. Nevertheless, he picked it up and came to the front of the podium. Standing there, a step behind the metal rail that separated him from the glare of two thousand students, he began to wave the flag. Fluttering away in the wind, the flag, representing the school, showed its velvet glory.
     After two swings however, the pole of the flag came into contact with the mike that was standing near the boy. Obviously, the mike fell and the wires connected to it also tangled among themselves. The principal who was standing at the back of the podium came and picked up the mike stand himself. In a few moments everything came back to normal. Most of the students just stood there as if they had not noticed but some managed to laugh. When the laughter flew over to the boy in a split second and he flushed in redness, perhaps like the color of the flag, now leaning on the metal rail.

     It was a mistake, nothing serious and the rest of the day went on fine. But that moment, for some reason was unforgettable for the boy. The thought that he was not strong enough to wave a flag properly could have hurt his twelve year old mind. Or it could be for no reason. But even to this day, six years after, the shabby flag leaning on the metal rail is clear in the boy's mind.

[Character Design] Draft

Selected characters

Goofy: looks like Jesus, has a gentile character, 50 years old, loves fishing, lives on a tropical island but doesn't have many friends
Cleve: 156cm tall and has black hair, pessimistic(originally generous but changed for the sake of the story), 17 years old, likes to criticize others, lives alone in a forest(lets say that it is a forest on the tropical island that Goofy is living on and that he is not alone), and has a complex about his small eyes.


Title [Undecided...]

     I was apparently born in a hospital in the center of a city called London. Well, thats what I've always heard as I grew up on this island. As long as I can remember, I lived on this island along with the village people. Seventeen years on this island was enough to make me bored. The tides seemed to be bothering the shore, the sunlight was excessively bright and the wind carried too much salt along with them. Other kids in the village used to and still make fun of me because of my small eyes, but I tell you over and over that it is because of the sun and the wind that demands me to squint at all times.

     The shore was littered by the sun, as always, but today I felt like walking the shore. The heated sand crumpled at my steps and the water slithered towards my feet. I never liked the saltiness of the tide and the way that they took the sand along with them. Nevertheless I continued to walk across the crescent of the bay, unintentionally nearing the reach of the tides.

      Walking endlessly along the shore, matching each step with the tides, I came upon a part of the shore that I had never bothered to approach beforehand. It was absolutely deserted for quite apparent reasons. The bay glittered way too much repelling the eyes of anyone who saw it. Even more, the distance between the forest and the water was awfully close and the chirping sounds of the birds and claps of the tide and the shore created a cacophony. Topping everything else, there was someone already there. To make the worse, if that was possible at all, the "someone" turned around.

     "Never expected that someone would come this far from the village, especially you Cleve", he said.
     "......", I didn't reply. I hated the way he called me as if he was my friend.
     "Just love this place, especially because its somewhere I can enjoy a time alone, but I wouldn't really mind it if you want to share this place. The sun set is just magnificent from this side of the island. It's quite different from watching the sun rise...its somewhat...hmm...", the guy rambled on.

Character design

Original version

Mixed version

Growing Up-The Body reading Journal

     Growing up is something that we all have to face, sooner or later. In the process, we go through many special experiences or perhaps tests that changes our view point of the world. It could be facing up to your parents, teachers or maybe facing up to yourself and in “The Body” written by Stephen King, we can find all of these in the adventure that the protagonists take. 

     Gordie is the narrator who tells the story of himself and three other children--Chris, Vern, and Teddy. For Gordie, the whole story is, quite literally, writing about writing as a writer. Like he says in the beginning however, “The most important things are the hardest things to say,” and “The Body,” deals with some of the most sensitive moments in Gordie’s childhood. Gordie, who was the second child in the family was treated like a child that never existed. Even while his big brother lived, he was never the center of attention from his parents. Then, when his big brother died from an accident, his parents fell and became, “too fucked up” to take care of Gordie. 

     From Gordie’s view, the death of his brother was more of a dream. In his stories, and dreams, his brother often came out to Gordie as if he were still alive. Gordie was afraid that maybe it should have been himself who died instead of his brother. In his imagination his brother still talked and walked around. This was why seeing the body and facing death in reality meant much more to Gordie. He later realizes that when you die, you can’t and shouldn’t do anything and finally comes to really accept the death of his brother. In a way, Gordie becomes more matured than his parents who never learns this lesson, that one “can’t, don’t won’t never, shouldn’t, wouldn’t, couldn’t,” do anything anymore. 

     Chris Chambers is also another twelve year old child. Unlike Gordie, who is from a middle class family in Castle Rock, he comes from a family of very low reputation. Because of this, he is also expected to live up to his reputation as a Chamber. However, he struggles to get out the the town and the reputation of his family. In the end, he really does escape the town with the help of Gordie. The rest of the little gang, Teddy and Vern are rather neglected in the story. For them, the adventure was their first “big” thing. But from my view, it seems that that was just about it for them. Teddy and Vern, unlike Gordie and Chris, didn’t change much even after the adventure and maybe thats why they became one of those friends that you just pass by in the hallway. 

     The writer who is writing about a writer writing about writing--that would be me--also experienced growing up. It was more of a series of changes that accumulated to my maturing in my case, and I’m still in the process. Like in the reflection essay that I wrote on my blog, I was faced up against myself. The task was speaking out. Well, I’m not really sure how its turning out, will I succeed in my metamorphosis like Chris and Gordie? Or will I stay the same like Teddy and Vern? Time will tell, but in the mean time I would like to recommend “The Body,” for the ones who are facing their own tasks in growing up. 

(Reflective Essay) Speaking Out

     Ten years ago, around this time of the year, I had my very first flight--on an airplane of course.

Even at that age, I sort of understood the concept of having a jet lag after a long travel like the one I took which was from Korea to the States. The jet lag, however, itself didn’t seem to affect me much at that time. It may have been because I was young, or maybe because of the extensive sleep that I took on the plane. Anyways, I was all hyper and energetic when I got off the plane at Washington D.C. But now that I think of it, I think I experienced the jet lag more than anyone else, not physically, but in my confidence. 

     The language barrier was much higher than I thought. For the first two months or so I barely spoke a word in English. In the month after that, I was barely able to construct a complete sentence. The rest of the two years that I lived in the States, I was a quite boy. I became quite fluent in the end actually, but still I wasn’t the type that really fit the word “loquacious”. 

     When I came back to Korea, I had to face the language barrier again--ironic isn’t it? I could speak in Korean(people tend to remember their mother tongue for quite a long time). I couldn’t write though. I could write just a little bit more than the foreign teachers who’ve been living in Korea for some years. A bigger problem, however, was the words and language that the other children were using. It was really hard for me to understand the games they were playing or the catchy phrases that were uncatchable for me. Every now and then when I look at the photos I took as a second grader, which was when I just came back from the States, I feel once again that I’ve changed, a lot. 

     My middle school years were an extension of the elementary school years. I kept on reading fantasy novels and so on. Around that time I think I really enjoyed reading the “House of Scorpions”. I fooled around and made jokes with my close friends, but for the majority, I was still the quite kid. One interesting change that happened to me around my second year in middle school was in my writing style. I’m not sure if it’s a good example, but here is one of the things I wrote as a middle schooler--quite “organic”, really. 

     “Being free of harmful substances is also a reason why organic foods are becoming the new trend. There is a huge issue going on with the melanin inside foods. As it is known it is known to cause diseases. These harmful matters came from non-organic foods products and are being found in others too. This helped people to recognize organic foods and increase the thought that organic foods are healthier since it wouldn’t contain such ingredients. If the product is truly organic it wouldn’t contain any artificial chemical or substances that are harmful to the human body and this became the main reason for the huge growth. Since health is one of the areas that many people are interested those who can afford would prefer organic foods.”

     Compared to my current style, the things I wrote a couple years ago seem very taciturn and dull. The source for the sudden change in my style was the book called “I’m a stranger here myself”, written by, my favorite author, Bill Bryson. Here’s an excerpt from the book.

     “I decided to clean out the refrigerator the other day. We don't usually clean out our fridge-we just box it up every four or five years and send it off to the Centers for Disease Control in Atlanta with a note to help themselves to anything that looks scientifically promising-but we hadn't seen one of the cats for a few days and I had a vague recollection of having glimpsed something furry on the bottom shelf, toward the back. (Turned out to be a large piece of gorgonzola.)

So there I was down on my knees unwrapping pieces of foil and peering cautiously into Tupperware containers when I came across an interesting product called a breakfast pizza. I examined it with a kind of rueful fondness, as you might regard an old photograph of yourself dressed in clothes that you cannot believe you ever thought were stylish. The breakfast pizza, you see, represented the last surviving relic of a bout of very serious retail foolishness on my part.”(Bill Bryson, Junk Food Heaven)

     You laughed as you read it right? That’s what I really liked about his style. No matter how serious or heavy the topic was, he was always able to mix some humor into it. Bill Bryson never failed to get me laughing and like one of my teachers said, “that never hurts”. Now I’ve got much more talkative in my writing, it was the perfect timing for me to get talkative and thats what I did. 

     From the quite little boy, I slowly became a talkative little boy. Then during the last summer of his middle school year, the talkative little boy came to KMLA for the first time to participate in a debating competition. At that time, I didn’t even know the format or what I had to do as a debater. I just came here as if I was a tourist not a competitor. As I prepared and did the debate, I began to love it. Don’t take me wrong, but I really came to love the tension that came right before I gave my speech and the ecstasy that came from finding flaws and ways to reconstruct our stances. But over everything else, the fact itself that you had to “Speak Out” on your opinion was what drove me the most.

     With that experience, I applied to the debating club when I came to high school. I heard from a lot of the juniors that the club was really time consuming, but that didn’t matter much for me. “The grade point average, you see, represented the last surviving relic of a bout of very serious academic foolishness on my part”. With only passion in my heart, really no skills at all, I began debating. It was really hard in the beginning, and it still is. The seniors in the adjudication seats was what scared me the most. You never get used to it, not even if you do it over and over for a year.

      Thats what I did. During my freshman year, I’ve learned a lot of things from various classes. I really do feel that I’ve taken something away from the effort that I put in for a year but apart from the class assignments and so on, what I consider most worthwhile is the skills that I’ve acquired as I practiced debating. Debates aren’t just about refutation. That’s a major part that is seen on the outside, but from what I’ve felt, what we really earn is the practice of organizing and spelling our thoughts out to the others. No matter how much pressure we are in, we had to squeeze out every last word inside our brains. At first, it was to fill the time limit. Later, it became a problem of organizing the most into the limited time. The various background knowledge that accumulated from the research that we do for preparation was a bonus that came along. 

     Just two days ago(Dec. 3rd), I was on the bus going down to Gwangju for the last debating competition of the year. We broke the preliminary rounds as the second seed and lost the next round. We ended up as a quater finalist. Not bad, really good actually, but I did feel a bit dejected by the results. The air inside the convening room that we had our debate in seemed suddenly a bit darker as if to reflect my mood. As the breakers for the next round was announced, my teammates and I walked out to get something to eat. The fog inside my mind condensed as we walked down the stairs of the convention center, until I looked back that is. When I looked back at the building, I really began to realize how huge it was. 
     

     With the sun on its back, the building hung on the horizon. And I realized that I had the chance, that I might never have had imagined as the quite little kid. I was all suited up and standing in front of a huge building that I’ve just debated in. And even the room that we debated in were normally for all those important looking old men in black suites. I stood in front of the judges in one of those rooms. I debated in one of those rooms. I had argued my thoughts in one of those rooms. And I spoke out--perhaps for the first time in my life.