Reflective essay: a lesson for perfectionists

     A slight ache is running through my head, probably because the bus is trembling so much. Between the curtains the vast greens come to my eyes. This bus is heading for Gwangju, South Korea, where I will participate in a debate competition. I don’t feel that anxious—I’d rather say that I am eager see how far I could go. During the last few months I went through many special experiences. With my friends I participated in soccer matches, debate competitions and even went to Guam for a mock trial tournament. I wouldn’t have had the chance if I didn’t come to KMLA, since in ordinary public schools I would devote my time solely for school exams. And looking back, I find that I also went through many hardships, and overcame, a story of a little perfectionist finding out his limits.

These days, I feel like I have somehow reached my limits. Too tired and too exhausted I can’t really “think.” It feels like I have been living unconsciously for the past few days. And today, the stress level had hit the apex because of today’s debate, where I was totally humiliated and self-esteem shattered.

     I really wanted to become a better debater and a fluent English speaker. Many times I feel like I can actually do that buy whenever I stand in front of the podium and face the judges, Wayne and the seniors, I start to stumble in my speech. I get repetitive and lose sharpness, which is crucial for debating. Today, it was even worse. I prepared for the motion and set up some points, but just before the debate our team’s senior came and told me that I should change them. The two arguments were too weak and irrelevant. Listening to her, I agreed so I tried to modify them. However, the debate started soon and I was the leader of opposition, my turn came fast. I had to think of rebuttals and the definitional challenge but the problem was that I couldn’t even organize my own points. The result was awful. I got stuck right in the middle of the speech, just by myself, and couldn’t fulfill any of the duties as a LO. The comments were harsh and I felt abject. I really wanted to give up. All of the comments looked as if they were criticizing me …

     This is a piece of writing that I scribbled in May. Even today, my lack of fluency in English is a taunting limit. Back then, it seemed impossible to overcome, for I was given too little time. I entered debate competitions starting from this year, which means I had no time to learn and get better. Such situations made me fall down, devastated. I started to give up. People say, “Desperate times call for desperate measures,” but I felt I didn’t have any measures at all.

     If I had given up at that moment, I won’t be here riding this bus. Facing my limits, I chose to loosen myself. This doesn’t mean that I strived so hard and did something special to dramatically overcome my hardships. To a certain extent, it can be said that I actually gave up. I gave up to force myself do become a perfectionist. I gave up to blame myself being so powerless, incomplete and even useless. And I chose to let myself to be “myself,” believing that I can start up from the bottom. Day by day, I improved, which was possible as I didn’t have the “perfection” paradigm stuck in my head. From this series of experiences, I learned a simple, yet important lesson that limits do not define me; I define my limits.

TED: Open-source for the better-solution

     I don't know exactly when, but I started to have an exceptional fervor towards the study of medicine and human biology. Especially when I was in middle school, I was somehow crazy about the idea of becoming a medical scientist, fighting against detrimental diseases and even working for the WHO, the World Health Organization. Now, I have become more dispssionate about it, after learning that if I take the M.D.-Ph.D. integrated program after four years of undergraduate, 38 will be my age when I could take my first step as a professional. Though, I am still interested in this field for it is directly connected to life and death. And though it might sound rather absurd, I stand for philantrophy and I want to be person society needs.
     In this TED video, Jay Bradner, a researcher at Harvard Medical School, explains a discovery that is so terrific in two ways. His team developed a highly complicated molecule named JQ1, which is a cure for a rare type of midline carcinoma. This cancer is caused by a virulent protein molecule named BRD4. Aside the complex chemical names, this discovery is worth being extoled since it directly helps millions of patients around the globe. Moreover, BRD4 was one of those that were previosly known to be "incurable" or "undrugable." For Dr. Bradner and his team, it is also very special since it gave hope to them that they can find novel cures from studying the basic chemical identities of illness.
     However, the development of JQ1 has another important meaning. Dr. Bradner, along with his scientific experiments on drugs, conducted a social experiment. He implemented a revolutionary and tentative policy, which is to disclose the precious chemical information of their cure. Other researchers, mostly from pharmaceutical companies, would have certainly thought that Dr. Bradner was mad.  Similar to the firms that are infamous to be reticent and to repudiate exchanging information, he could have just kept the information to himself, produce medicine or sell it at an astronomical price. In the pharmaceutical market, chemical information equals fortune. However, Dr. Bradner decided to sacrifice the outcome of his team's diligent work for the sake of the whole society.
     It would have been banal and both sad if the pharmaceutical companies simply benefited from the disclosure of JQ1. This social experiment, as Dr. Bradner says, has been "unfortunately successful," for it was provoactive enough to instigate the number of researchers to augment and more labs to engage in the study of this molecule, enhancing the quality and stability through additional experiments conducted by these newcomers. Bradner's policy expedited the discoveries of new medications and more possible uses of JQ1, as it was found to be effective for Leukemia, multiple myeloma and apidocyte, all thought to be incurable. He expects this cycle of discovery to be incessant. All he did was "opening" the source of his new yet austere form of  cure, and what he recieved was the great euphony of numerous researchers, united under the same perspective of developing new medication. Dr. Bradner's choice was truly laudable, and inspriational.
     I hope the acheivements of Dr.Bradner have successfully derided the selfish pharmaceutical companies. They probably thought he was squandering his oppurtunity, being foolish. Of course, according to their sens of "success," Dr. Bradner is a complete failure. But that "succuss" is too superficial to be recognized as meaningful. One reseracher and his team brought the new spirit into the field of medicine. And for once more, I hope that labs all around the world will come out from their moral depravity and show deference towards Dr. Bradner.

Review: He's the Dark Knight, not the Batman

He’s the Dark Knight, not the Batman

     Christopher Nolan’s “The Dark Knight” is one of the most spectacular movies that I’ve ever seen. As one of the Batman series, starting from The Batman Begins, I thought this moview would be just so similar to the typical 'super-hero-action' films. All of the comic-based hero movies I've seen were way to simple to be called as good films. First of all, most of them rely on special effects; explosions, lasers and so ever. Also, the hero is literally the "good" guy, one distinct villian the "bad" guy and the rest are ordinary, innocent citizens so naive and ought to be protected. Typical hero films completely fit to the "hero's journey," which makes the plot banal. However, The Dark Knight is different.

      I have five critieras to evaluate and discuss on this movie, which are how the movie is creative, dynamic, well-developed, funny/heart-warming and engaging.

Reading Journal #2 - The Body

    

        “This business of being ignored: I could never really pin it down until I did a book report in high school on this novel called The Invisible Man … [N]obody notices him at all … like a black ghost”

Gordon Lachance, the protagonist of Stephen King’s novella The Body, is a twelve-year-old boy, brought up in a rather average family. He has three friends named Chris, Vern and Teddy. The four play together in their own secret meeting room, the tree house. This novella is basically a story about their adventure to find a dead body. But before the actual journey begins, King introduces the characters by inviting the readers for a journey to the suburbs of Maine during the ‘60s.

First of all, Chris Chambers is from a poor family and his father has alcohol issues. His brothers, “Eyeball” Chambers and others, are recognized as problematic students in school and in the whole town. It says that Chirs’s dad was “always on a ‘mean streak,’ more or less.” And Chris also “hated him like poison,” since he was beaten by his drunken dad occasionally.   

     The other two friends also come from inferior family backgrounds. Teddy Duchamp has a father sent to the “section eight” in hospital because of his mental illness. When Teddy was eight years old, the father shoved Teddy’s head to the stove, burning up and leaving a irrevocable scar. Vern Tessio’s family isn’t that much explained but his brother Billy Tessio is a member of the town gang, led by Ace Merill. Also Vern’s still in fifth grade, despite the fact that he is twelve.

     Last but not least, Gordie also has some issues within his family. He is constantly neglected by his parents. They only seem to care about Gordie’s older brother Dennis, and as he died in a jeep accident, they lost interest at all. And when Gordie asks his father if he could play with his friends, his father responds, “A thief and two feebles. Fine company for my son.” Gordie is upset towards his father who doesn’t try to understand at all.

Mr.Moon -- Three words that explain myself

Three words describing myself

     When asked to describe myself, three words pop in my head – curious, patterns and freshness. Ever since I started reading books, I carried sack of questions. I wanted to know more about people, the world and myself. My mother often recalls me asking too many questions at a shopping mall that while answering them she forgot what she had to buy. When young I asked anything. But as growing up, I started pondering more deeply by myself before talking about my doubts and interests. I also love to follow, find and understand patterns. Sequence, order, cause and effect describes very much of my thoughts. Maybe this made me to have interest in topic of science. Last but not least, I pursue ‘freshness’. Besides the fact that I love fresh fruit or the aroma of fresh flowers, I always desire fresh ideas that lead to inspiration. The three words curious, patterns and freshness explains why I hope to become a inspirational researcher, endeavoring on the field I feel curious about.

Metafiction- really a fiction

     

      “Good afternoon, Mr. Harrison.”

Peter Simons, the forty-five-year-old, young, passionate attorney, greeted his client as he stepped out of the defense bench. Kyle Harrison, the alleged serial killer, sat on the witness seat as if he was stunned. The black wave, the immense flow of fear … Harrison was feeling the grotesque ambiance again. 

“Mr. Harrison, I will help you out of this misunderstanding that brought you to this court today. Would you mind if I asked a few questions about that particular night of November 5^th, 1991?”

The room became absolutely quite. Not a single sound was heard. Every single string of attention headed towards the convict.

“Mr. Harrison?”

"Err... yes, sir?"

"Would you please state what you can remember?"

“It was a stormy night. James William and I were drinking buckets of beer at Jimmie's house. I recognize that we had a tough chat about the rock concert that we attended yesterday. It was about five minutes before midnight. Yes, that's exactly when 'he' came and knocked the door. Shivering for somewhat reason, Jimmie went to the door and twisted his palm to open the door. Just when the door was opened about half, that's when we saw his silhouette, we all fell to the ground.       That's exactly what happened. Magically, we all fell to the ground. I think it's too much of a coincidence for all of us to just fall asleep because of drinking. It was some eerie force that knocked all three of us."

Judge Carrick suddenly frowned when Harrison mentioned the last few lines. The audience became noisy in astonishment. The District Attorney stared at the witness as if he cannot believe a single word. Simons quickly managed to continue the direct examination.

“Mr. Harrison, could you move on please?”

       "Consciousness came back with headache, but I thought I was still dreaming because I couldn't believe my sight. Willy was hanged above the desk and Jimmie was lying on the floor with blood all over his back.      Damn! The house was full of Jimmie's blood and the nasty smell of his corpse. I was definitely frightened for a moment. I looked around myself, finding for some weapons for protection. I found a Benelli M1 Super 90, the type of shot gun I used when hunting for animals. However, it was such a surprise because Jimmie has never kept those kinds of arms at home. With the shotgun, I decided to look for "him". Half angered, half curious, I really wanted to find who he was.      Then the door knocked again. So, I went to the door, and shot my shotgun toward door. After I used all bullets, I found that I killed Jimmie. Jimmie's blood was everywhere and I carried him inside the house. William was the only person who saw my crime.      I wasn't myself after I saw blood gushing out of Jimmie's wounds. The shotgun pellets ripped his limbs apart and left huge holes on his body. Not knowing what I was doing, I blankly aimed of William and pulled the trigger.”

     Scream was heard from back of the court. People were now literally shivering in fear. Little kids were crying, women terrified and the judge ruled order in court. Simons, feeling the need to finish the direct examination, asked judge the permission to enter an exhibit. It was the shotgun, Benelli M1 Super 90.

     “Mr. Harrison, do you recognize this gun?”

       “Sure. It seems like the one I used that night. Shotgun is a monstrous weapon. It never shoots; It busts. So that's what Benelli M1 Super 90 exactly did. It busted William. It tore him and pulled him all the way to the porch stairs. I maybe wanted to make things clearer. I took the shot gun, ran down the porch steps and stepped on William. William was breathing with a great difficulty. So I sent him close to God. Nice fella. He belongs there. That's where I'll never go in. I'll never reach heaven, but he won't as well if I don't finish him up. I shoved the muzzle in his mouth and pulled the trigger.
    And a sharp clicking sound was heard. Boom!”

     A hysterical laugh, a bit of coughing.

     And then, another “boom”

     It wasn’t Simons holding the exhibit any more. It was ‘him’ waiting to take Harrison to hell.