Monday 23 December 2013

A letter from Holden's aunt....



<The Catcher in the Rye>
11v4 121036 Hyunyeon Belle Kim
I hypothesized the situation of Holden having an aunt (sister of his mother) who can understand his feelings. I imagined what letter she would write to him, after knowing Holden’s situation.
To: Holden
             My dear Holden,
Recently I heard from your mother that you were kicked out from your school. Your parents were seriously worried about your so-called misbehavior. Well- my boy, are you disappointed because I seem to be on your parents’ sides? No. I am not chiding for “being expelled”. I will not criticize any of your thoughts. For me, you are the most awaken one in your family. I myself also find this world ugly and corrupted. People are all hypocrites, aren’t they, Holden?
Yet I will chide for your behaviors, Holden. I heard from Phoebe that you were going to run away. Why were you trying to run away? Did you truly believe that it was the solution for your inner anguish? Ask yourself. You would find the answer “NO”. We all know that running away would be the ultimate solution. It is rather a coward escape. I will chide you for the attempt of running away.
Just the fact that we are old enough to abandon everything does not mean that we can actually run away. Holden, let us not blind ourselves from the ugly truth. Even though we close our eyes, the truth never disappears; what you were trying to do was blindfolding yourself.
Now I want to question one thing. Did you find your world solely disgusting? Did you only despise humans, who are all hypocrites? Now and then I look around and wonder; how come this world, so ugly that I can almost vomit, is beautiful? I even find myself loving humans, who I despise for their conspiracy.
You might not understand me now; you’re full of rebellious thoughts and are frustrated because your deeds cannot match with your thoughts. However, I think you might understand my ironic love toward this world and humans as you grow up. Let us love their imperfections, their dirty ness, and hypocrisy.
Well- it seems like I made a sermon again. Hmm. I guess I can’t help it. Well, your mother seems to find another school for you. I hope you have a good time there. Try not to mess up, Holden, for your and my sake. I do not want to see my brother-in-law beat you up to death. I give you my full love.
From: your aunt, secret comrade

Monday 9 December 2013

Adaptation of Catcher in the Rye - Seokwoo Jang

Adaptation of Catcher in the Rye (portion of Chapter 25)
Seokwoo Jang

When I got outside, the sun was just about to set into the mountains, filling the sky with a splash of orange and yellow. It was early December, and even though it was warmer than typical KMLA’s winter, the night air that brushed against my skin was cold.
I didn’t know where the hell to go. I was freaken tired of the 11th floor, a place where silence and tenseness was at its fullest. So finally all I did was I walked towards the other end of our school, the gymnasium. I figured I would just sleep .on the seats on the second floor, sticking my feet up. Yet I only managed to sleep for about half an hour thanks to the Crossover kids who made the gym echo with the sound of basketballs bouncing. It only worsened my headache.
I started to think about my KMLA life. Before I came in, I dreamt freedom. I would finally be freed from the hakwons and parents who talked about universities. But here, in KMLA, things were no different than outside. EOP? No one cared about such thing. Student counsel? No they were puppets, telling what the teachers did. But on top of that, the regulations the laws, no orders that dictated our actions. I didn’t know why on earth I had to follow these regulations. 10 points for ordering chicken? Is this even logical? Anyways, just because I went to special training for 60 points a week ago, my advisor had called my parents. They, in turn, scolded me over the phone for about an hour. Damn.
There happened to be a Minjok Herald magazine that somebody’d left on the bench next to me, so I started reading it, thinking it'd make me stop thinking about my life and a million other things for at least a little while. But this damned article I started reading only made my feelings worse. It was about not getting penalty points. It was about an interview with those lousy students who still had probation. Those cowards who wouldn’t, no couldn’t do anything except what the teachers told them.
‘Robots.’
I tore the magazine in half, throwing the shreds down to the first floor. I got up and went down the stairs to the entrance. I figured I'd be expelled in a couple of months –just like Do Gyun did –just because I reached 80 penalty points. I really did. I was even positive I would be. It certainly didn't make me feel too gorgeous, though.
For one thing I figured I had to walk. I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do at this point, but I couldn’t bear the fact that I wasn’t doing anything. At first, I walked slowly. Then my steps got faster, and faster until I went running. I ran past the archery field. I ran past the two statues at the gates. I ran past the milk factory. I ran out to the road that stretched out in both directions. Then, I turned right; not because some regulation or teacher told me, but just because I wanted to, I chose to do so. I ran into the darkness, leaving KMLA behind me.
What's on your damn mind?

By Yoon Seung Jung - Saturday Sucks



There is this thing I have about Saturdays and it’s that no goddamn thing stands between me and sleep in that day. So if I were to have any bloke who barged into the room blowing on his frigging Korean traditional instrument or something during my bliss hours I would literally throw my pillow at him and pour Powerade over his laptop, and stop right there, because I’m a pacifist. My crazy roommate next door furnishes an axe the size of my printer, and my printer’s helluva lot big, so if I wanted to make my point by wrecking his bed into half, I could easily do so. But as I said, I’m like the patron saint of peace around here, and I’ve seen my axe roommate get into one of his fits before, with all those cussing and loud noises and crap, and when he’s finished, he would have lost us one of our shower doors forever, and, somehow, people don’t like that.  
So as I was saying, I wouldn’t make a whole scene out of all this Korean instrument crap, but that’s not the point. The point is that, in a sense, I’m like the reincarnation of Mahatma Gandhi. In fact, I think I’m better than him, because if Gandhi was born in KMLA in the 21st century, he would just waste his time doing Facebook all day, posting all this crap about why the school is unjust and why the body of students and faculty alike are just a bunch of assholes. Anybody who spends time whining about how messed up their lives are are a just a bunch of phonies, and it downright depresses me to see that they should make such a fuss about things everybody confronts. So if I were to see somebody moaning about how retarded his schedules were, and to see him going on Facebook right at the next moment to moan about his busy life, I would not hesitate but one moment. I would take my crazy roommate’s axe, wreck his computer in half, and tell him to dedicate half the effort and time he pours on Facebook posts to writing his essay, because I truly love him.
After waking up at eight and wondering how I could escape being caught as a late student, it suddenly occurred to me that it was one of my sacred Saturdays and that I should waste no more time in going back to sleep. Time is gold, you see. But just about an hour later I learn a lesson about the miracles of life when my worst case scenario actually springs into action. My roommate Jim, along with some of his friends, barges into the room blowing on his taepyunso as if it’s morning assembly session, and I swear I acted like Jesus Christ in refraining from even pouring water over him. I seem to have underestimated my roommate, and I was proud of this new level of craziness he could attain.
When I actually woke up again after that, it was way past lunchtime, and I thought I would eat one of those delicacies my mother had sent me, when I found out that it was missing. If there’s one thing I can’t stand, it’s food thieves, not necessarily because I’m fond of food, but because I couldn’t stand the sight of him munching away in a silent corner of his room, giggling about his dashing deeds, especially when another sight of my mother comes into my head at the same time, with her shopping into the mart and going through all of the wrapping trouble to send food to his beloved son, just to watch it get eaten by some gluttonous pig.
Anyways, when I climbed out of bed and started searching for food, I realized how much of a mess my room was in, and I started to tidy up. Now I say I tidied up, but in a sense it was just chucking every random thing or so into my closet or drawer, and so I started questioning the integrity of this whole process, when at that particular point I stumbled across a pair of goddamn scissors. I never saw this thing before, and I cussed at whoever was dumb enough to misplace it on my desk, and mused myself over chucking it out of the window, when I saw that it was David’s, at which point I started to cry. David left school a long time ago, but in my opinion, he was one of the grandest fellows there ever was. I was his roommate the particular semester he left, and although I loved him dearly, I could not summon up the courage to contact him afterwards, because I blamed myself for his leaving the school.
David left the school voluntarily, but in a sense it was an induced expulsion, because he had reached way over 80 penalty points the week before he left. David was intelligent, funny, kind, and sports-able and all but if there was one thing he couldn’t do, it was managing his life pattern. I still think to myself what life would have been like if David was still here, if I took the extra step and managed to reduce his penalty points, but this sensation creeps over me that even if he did not reach 80, he wouldn’t have wanted to stay at school, and that he would have left anyway. The more and more I think about it, the more it makes sense, and the more I start to understand his feelings. What kind of school kicks out a guy like David when all those phonies on Facebook, gymnasium podiums and all those piggy thieves are still intact here, receiving good grades and even getting esteemed? Why didn’t things stay the way they are, the way they should be? I wanted to see David, talk to him, and play a round of basketball with him at the gym. And so I walked out of school, wondering about where in Seoul I should go to meet him.