In Bacchus We Trust

Dr. Bacchus, splendid savior of students all over the world! On behalf of all students, I would like to thank you for all your efforts to wake us up when we need to be aroused. Whenever we are cramming for exams or oppressed by tons of assignments, we look for you. You always reply to our desperate calls with your tangy yet sweetish flavor. To us students, you are the holy light glimmering under the total darkness of our seemingly determined fate. At nights, we sense an overwhelming iron curtain of weariness casting over our hopeless future. You give us the power to find a loophole in the iron curtain with you magical prescription, Taurine.

Dr. Bacchus, the greatest benefactor of all! As you always told us, life is full of obstacles and stressful situations. God has deceived us in that he gave us only 2/3 of our lives. It has been ages since people hoped to get hold of the rest 1/3, and now look at what great privilege you have given us. You made it possible for us to get through with whatever obstacles we face and live our lives fully. You are the true guardian of mankind who bravely stood up to God’s dishonest decisions.

Dr. Bacchus, friendly yet tough companion of weary souls! You are well-liked among exhausted students, but you are not so popular among other doctors. Sorry to tell you this, but you are being bullied in the medical world. Other doctors do not really trust your methods of therapy, saying you are a mere charlatan. But no worries, for I have no faith in every single word they speak out. It is they who are real charlatans, belittling your talents in order to get rid of a skillful competitor. Dear doctor, I have great devotion for you and would like to get advice from you even in my dreams, but I just cannot, for you always keep me awake due to your immense presence.

Dr. Bacchus, helping anyone in need! Often times, I am worried about my absolute faith in you. You sometimes fail my honest request against sleep. Last time you gave your answer to my prayers with 3 bottles of your magical drink, but I was defeated by the evil forces of fatigue. Since the time I met you, you have made my sense of time-management as dull as it can be. It was all because of your madly effective treatments. So please do not ever leave me alone at times of hardship. O’ doctor, doctor! Master of eventide! Only you have the power to let me survive in the long nighttime and see the rising sun with warm hope for the imminent day. I will ask for you tonight as I always have done. Until then, farewell!

Tales of the Unexpected - Journal #1

     In Dahl’s Tales of the Unexpected, stories have routinely uncomplicated structures: playful-toned storytelling until almost the end and then a sudden twist-usually swiftly turning towards the extreme negative-at the end. Through such negative twists at the end of the stories, Dahl successfully conveys his themes on the ugliness of human nature pertaining to greed.

     In most of the stories, the setting and milieu of the scenes are luxurious. In stories such as Taste, My Lady Love, My Dove, Dip in the Pool, and Skin, characters who engage in a broad range of lavish activities appear: from gourmets and lovers of wine to a dilettante who acts as if he was a great patron of arts. The settings are also quite deluxe as well, ranging from a grand house of an aged but bored couple of wealth to a passenger ship with auctions going on. However, the characters are not really fit for such deluxe lifestyle. Often, Dahl’s clever twists at the end reveal this truth. Richard Pratt turned out to be a cheater after all, the young Snapes were actually not so affluent and were desperate for money, Mr. Botibol committed stupidity for money and lost his life, and Drioli certainly was not a man who could afford his expensive tastes for the arts. 

     Comprehension of the deep meanings underneath these few silly stories becomes possible with the recognition of the basic desire of mankind to lead luxurious lives far above those of others. Although people are born with such longing, people stop and resign with simply feigning their ideally desired selves in plebeian environments because the futile dreams they had held turned out to be much too unrealistic. In Tales of the Unexpected, Dahl explores the inane high-dimensional greed and the sad reality that prevents such yearning from coming true.

     Because of the initial calm tone and description with nothing noticeable going on, I first got the impression that the stories were too naïve and dull. However, after getting accessed to the sudden bend, I was able to grasp Dahl’s intentions. The initial plainness was intended to arouse a sense of normalness that anyone can find in commonsense situations. At normal settings like these, people wouldn’t do such foolish things just as the characters mentioned above have done. But when the silly desire for luxury comes in play, they are capable of committing silly and even wicked deeds to feign what they wish to be.

     Take Mr. Schofield in Taste for instance; a righteous person-just the person Mr. Schofield would have been if it wasn’t for the wine-would never bet on his daughter over something so trivial like guessing some facts about a specific brand of wine. However, when two fancy houses and his pride in wine, a symbol of luxury, come into play, Mr. Schofield stupidly bets on his daughter. His lavishing craving for aristocratic livelihood, although he was never fit for such a lifestyle, distorts his humane consciousness.

     Drioli, the poor protagonist of Skin, is another fascinating example. He was certainly not a man of the upper class. However, he acts as if he belongs to such aristocratic class, even when he is left old and impoverished. After he decides to “sell” Soutine’s painting on his back due to extreme hunger, he leans towards a luxurious lifestyle-which actually was not meant for him-that the hotelier proposes. Craving for an opulent life at the hotel, poor Drioli just follows a total stranger without considering the possibility of deceit. Miserable Drioli may have been too hungry to think over the stranger’s proposal, but there is no doubt his greed for sumptuous style of living cast a great deal of influence in his making a dangerous decision.

     Dahl rather explicitly reveals the dark side of human nature with a clear contrast between the plain, fun tone at beginning of each story and grave, gruesome twist at the end. I have not yet read more than half of the stories in this book, but it has become quite clear that he wanted reveal that greed comes in play even in most normal settings, and people carry out downright stupidity because they have a desire to belong to the upper cluster. 

A Paragraph-level 'Claim' about Oscar Wilde's "The Picture of Dorian Gray"

     At first glance, Oscar Wilde's "The Picture of Dorian Gray" might appear as an edifying novel preaching the importance of leading an aesthetic life. After all, Wilde truly fascinates his readers with Dorian’s attractiveness and Lord Henry’s brilliant sense of speech, in spite of their pursuit of hedonistic lifestyle filled with immorality in the name of aestheticism. On the other hand, Wilde portrays Basil as a coward with no real taste of the ‘meaningful’ things in life who eventually faces brutal death. Taking into consideration Basil’s job as an artist, he is the one who is the most justified to lead a life dominated by aestheticism. However, he nevertheless lives an upright life. The dramatic difference makes a clear distinction between the boundaries of moral and mad pursuit of aestheticism. Basil’s words, “I felt, Dorian, that I had told too much, that I had put too much of myself into it,” indicate that he believes in the different nature of artwork and real life. Dorian and Lord Henry, on the contrary, regard actual incidents in life as mere artwork, an experiment for pure joy and beauty, even. Such attitude is aptly explicated in Lord Henry’s own words about Dorian’s “experimental” love towards Sibyl Bane: “He would be a wonderful study” and “If you want to mar a nature, you have merely to reform it.” Therefore, it is perhaps more accurate to assume that this Gothic novel is an ironic work dealing with the need of realizing the discrepancy between artistic desire for beauty and real life. In this sense, the intimate yet somewhat ironic juxtaposition of two types of characters with very different values and attitudes achieves its clear moral of the novel regarding art and life.

 

Adaptation on (a part of) Chapter 16 - The Catcher in the Rye

I decided to write an adaption on the scene in chapter 16 where Holden walks to the Museum of Natural History in New York, wishing that things wouldn’t change and keep their original status-quo. As a student in KMLA, where a bunch of changes are always taking place, and no one really knows for sure what exactly is going on, I often am struck down by sudden changes in academics, relationships with friends and teachers, and dormitory life. I did not follow the exact structures and orders of incidents of the book. Instead, I focused on the essential idea that was being dealt with at the end of chapter 16. So I guess my ‘adaptation’ is more faithful and devoted to the quintessential idea and theme of the original novel than it is to the explicit outside formats and structures. Still, I tried to convey the particular tone of Holden’s use of language in the lines of Albert and use informal language just as Holden would have done.

I recently watched a film which deals with change in human emotions, and I really wanted to blend in some specific features of the film in my adaptation work. The idea of looking at expiration date of pineapple cans is actually from the movie, but I thought it would play a pivotal role in delivering the emotional state of ‘Albert’ in my writing, so I included it anyway.

“Class! We will have a quiz on the material we have just learnt about. I know I told you guys we will have one next week, but I guess we now have a change in schedule. Alright, you have until the end of class.”

Shit.

Another ‘impromptu’ quiz. I hate taking quizzes. I guess I have a thing about them. I mean, who are the teachers to measure our ability based on a piece of paper with nothing more than some ink stains on it? The whole idea of such dictatorial standards just disgusts me, y’ know. What’s more is that they keep deceiving poor students by frequently changing test dates. Those bastards called teachers……

I basically flunked the quiz. But hey, there’s nothing to worry about, y’ know. Today afternoon I have two important plans. A soccer match with my friends in town and a date with my soon-to-be-girlfriend, Aika. These things in life are the real important stuff, and they are probably what people live up to, I guess. Compared to such grandeur values, a quiz? Phew, most likely no more important than just one strand of Aika’s long, dark-blonde hair. It’s funny how people make such a big deal out of such mediocre stuff. Excited and all, I strolled down the hallway toward the exit sign of the school building to go grab my soccer shoes. Then, my phone suddenly rang.

‘Beep, beep~beep, beep~’

“Wai?”

“Huh? Isn’t this Albert on the phone?”

“It is me, you stupid. ‘Wai’ means ‘hello’ in Cantonese.”

“Alright. See why you are so into Cantonese these days. You failed your English Composition class, and now you have a thing for cool foreign languages. Isn’t it, Albert?”

“Stop BSing. Why you called?”

“Oh, our soccer match today, y’ know, it’s been canceled. Change of practice schedules. Sorry.”

“Yeah? Well, here is what I wanted to say, ‘Screw all of you!’ I have schedules too y’ know! Who are you to change my plans for soccer?”

Then he hung up.

Screw them.

I hate people who make changes in anything. Now I have one more reason to be pissed off today. All I had left of today is the sweet date with Aika, I guess.

Shoot.

Aika is a pretty girl from Hong Kong. She has really long, blond hair with the beautiful wave and all. I met her in psychology class. From the moment I saw her, I swear I had a tickling sensation from deep inside of my body. She looked as if Olivia Hussey from the film Romeo and Juliet had come back to her youth right in front of me. I do hate films, but not necessarily the actors and actresses in them-especially the actresses, I think. I knew our date would be no sooner than dinnertime, but I called her anyway simply because I wanted to hear her voice. To make it a surprise for her, I decided to call her not with my phone, but at the public telephone booth.

“Hey, Aika! Guess who it is.”

“Umm. Albert, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, yeah. Listen, about our date this evening”

“Oh, right! Albert, before you say anything else, I think I’ll have to make an apology first. I originally planned to go out with you, but my parents insisted that I spend time with my relatives who came to visit. I’m really sorry for the sudden change, I really am.”

“Aika, I don’t understand. Why do I always have to be your second choice? If I’m not your first priority, then fine.”

“Albie, you know I don’t mean that. Don’t speak like a jerk.”

“You know what? I don’t even want to talk to you anymore.”

I don’t know why I got so angry with her, but whatever the reasons were, I did. She’s the one who first pissed me off, right? Like I said, I hate changes, and I hate people who make changes even more. To be frank, I wish everything had been guaranteed to maintain its current status quo. Changes can hurt people, y’ know. Take me, for instance. I have three reasons to be mad, and all of those three reasons were due to change.

I just wish things would stay as they were, not frequently changing. I headed toward a convenience store about two blocks from where I was. For some reason, I suddenly felt like eating canned pineapple. I remembered that they sell Delmont Canned Pineapple and what not. I bought a whole bunch of pineapple cans, and stared at the colorful labels. The juicy pictures of golden pineapples have been exactly the same since I was a little boy, and they probably will stay that way for the next few decades at the very least. Lucky them, y’ know. Compared to these little canned pineapples, what are we? Always making freakin’ changes, with nothing guaranteed to last. Shit. Who says the mankind is the wisest specie in the world, when we are no better than mere pineapple cans? Liars. If there was an expiration date for human relationships, just like on pineapple cans, I would surely put a million years on the goddam label below the barcode. That way, I could be sure nothing would every change so suddenly, and I wouldn’t get so pissed off like I was today.

While all these thoughts filled my mind, I had already finished a dozen of these cans. I looked up at the sky, and saw a thick cloud floating around. Even the clouds were constantly moving, changing their positions.

“Can’t you guys stop moving, for Chrissake? Why can’t anyone just stay where they are? Ugh!”

I grabbed another canned pineapple to eat, hoping those pineapples would always taste the same with the rich sugary-flavored pulps and all.

Do You Have Your 'Healer' Standing Beside You, Ben X?

• Title: Ben X
• Based on a novel inspired by a true story, Nothing Was All He Said.
• Genre: Drama Film, Documentary, Psychological Thriller 
• Starring:

        Greg Timmermans as Ben

        Laura Verlinden as Scarlite

        Marijke Pinoy as Ben's mother

• Rating: 

<Owl City - Fireflies>

-Good to read with music if you wish to truly dig into the feelings of Ben, 

as a similar toned electric synthesizer melody is frequently used in the film-

Ben X covers a wide range of issues regarding contemporary society: bullying, cyberspace etiquettes, teenage suicide, etc. In this striking film, such societal problems are blended well together with the more fundamental topic of intolerance. The narration of Ben, malicious actions of his ‘friends’ at school, comfort from his imaginary friend and supporter lucidly portrays the significance and necessity of tolerance and empathy in today’s world.

In director Nic Balthazar’s bizzare Belgian-Dutch film Ben X, Ben(Greg Timmermans), a teenage-boy with Asperger Syndrome who acts a bit ‘differently’ from others, constantly gets bullied made fun of in school. His mother(Marijke Pinoy) tries her best to let her son get along well in school by providing him with loving care. However, Ben despises the world he lives in and always escapes to his imaginary world of the game of Archlord, where he becomes a great warrior who usually meets and saves another player by the name of Scarlite(Laura Verlinden). Not able to stand his friends’ bullying anymore, Ben conceives a plan for a suicidal ‘endgame’ to take revenge on his peers.

This is film has a peculiar structure in that there is a documentary film inside the film itself, and the documentary part is the story of Ben’s ‘endgame’. This way, viewers get the sense of involvement in the film because they are technically watching the documentary film that the characters inside the movie are watching as well. The double-structure helps viewers to feel an intimate relationship between Ben and them.

The brilliance of the film is that it not only puts viewers in a close distance with the main character, but also actually lets viewers actually be Ben. Throughout the film, scene after scene, the director continually shows a similar counterpart portrayal of an action as how it would be depicted in an imaginary game world. Also, visual and auditory techniques are used: close-up screenshots of people’s mouths or eyes are constantly showed, and disco and psychedelic style music, with background noise of cars passing by, people shouting, and objects moving, is played very loudly. These two disturbing yet meaningful devices allow viewers to become the eyes and ears of Ben, feeling how hypersensitive Ben would perceive the world.

With the aforementioned techniques and devices, Ben X gradually builds up to its theme of tolerance and empathy. Scarlite, though she is in many aspects an imaginary character, is a kind-spirited individual who cares for Ben from the heart and empathizes with him mainly because she shares with him a part of his independent life-in the world of Archlord. The last words of Ben’s mother at the ending marks the highlight of the thematic tolerance when she says, “He is living”, despite the fact that Ben had been talking to himself all along. Here, viewers are told the moral of appreciating others who are different even if the are hard to understand or fully empathize with. After all, “we can’t play endgames without our healers”, just as Scarlite mentioned.

JOURNAL #2

PROMPT: [The significance of the aging portrait of Dorian. How does it relate to the theme of aesthetics? Also, how does the portrait show Wilde's view on the relationship of art/artist and morality?]

    Eternal youth and innocence. These two fascinating words-in many ways portraying very similar symbols and nuance-have captivated people regardless of time and place. Many who were enthralled by the concept, including Emperor Shi Huangdi from Qin dynasty of the ancient China and Juan Ponce de Leon, set out ridiculously lengthy journeys to defy the natural flow of time. Similar line of captivation can be found not only in the lives of historical figures, but also in literature: Oscar Wilde’s masterpiece which was heavily influenced by the Aesthetics movement. In the novel, a beautiful young man named Dorian Gray succeeds in getting both, or at least superficially; he himself does not age or decay, but a fine-looking portrait of him gets old and deformed instead. Every time he does something morally unacceptable, his portrait self takes the blame instead. Such radical demolition of the boundary between real-life and artistry is of huge significance.

     Art is a mirror of one’s life for both Dorian and Lord Henry. They even happily take the extreme stance of considering their lives as pieces of art, which basically illustrates the Aesthetics attitude of life. Such attitude is well reflected in the magical switch of Dorian’s life and his image. The young one is so obsessed with total appreciation of the arts is that he even views his own life as an on-going work of art, and thus blurs the boundary between artist’s life and the artwork. Fascinating and sweet it may sound, but the having such extreme attitude is a violation of an important axiom in the preface: “It is the spectator, and not life, that art really mirrors.” Dorian violates this warning that artists should not reveal themselves in their artwork; he not only puts much of himself into his work, but also becomes a part of it by treating his life as a dramatic work of art. For that misdemeanor, Dorian later gets punished: He not able to atone for his sins and is finally left with no other choice than to kill his own soul-by stabbing the demoralized self in the portrait.

     From the crippled misbehaviors of Dorian, the author Oscar Wilde poses a debatable question: Can morality be violated for artistic causes? Generally, moral standards have to be kept no matter what because doing so is a respectable sign of being human. However, the field of arts, considered largely individual and distant from other values in life, may be the only exception in the aforementioned generalization. In other words, artists sometime brazenly defy moral standards of society. Dorian, too, considers his work of art-his Hyde self-first priority in front of all other societal virtues and morality. He sometimes even seems to be glad at his despicable deeds mainly because his artistic representation takes all the blame. Nevertheless, Wilde never gives up hope in regard to human conscience. All the time Dorian committed hideous actions and never seemed to feel guilty, his sense of guilt had been reflected in the painting-his hidden Jekyll inner side. At the denouement, Dorian tries to atone for his sins by stabbing the image in the portrait and eventually pays for them through his death.

     The magical yet cursed portrait is perhaps the most important ‘character’ in the novel, maybe even more significant than Dorian himself. The two personas of Dorian that appear in the story, as I have referenced earlier, are Dorian himself and the portrait. Surprisingly, there is quite amazing similarity between the relationship of the two personas of Dorian and that of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde: the real-life Dorian similar to Mr. Hyde, and Dorian’s portrait to Dr. Jekyll. The irony here is that the beautiful Dorian whose eternal youth is guaranteed is in fact the demonic self of a man, and the ugly and deformed portrait is actually the good-hearted self, for the image feels guilty and is aware of Dorian’s wrongdoings as is reflected in the deformation. All in all, the two seemingly incompatible concepts-eternal beauty and hideous deeds-aptly portray Wilde’s views on the relationship of art and morality based on the theme of Aestheticism through the discrepant yet reciprocal personas of real Dorian and the portrait. 

Nowhere Man

<please read with music, if you really want to go deep into Wang Jing's feelings>

  ‘Aika….she’s kind of pretty: Her long blonde hair, beautiful emerald eyes, and all that. Right! Her voice! So low, smooth, and soothing. It’d be awfully nice to marry her. She’ll softly whisper the word ‘love’ every morning in my ears with that marvelous voice of hers. Oh, isn’t that nice! But then again, she’s too plain in some ways. I mean, she’s just one of the many beautiful girls you can meet in the streets of here in Falls Church, Virginia. Nothing REALLY attractive about her, if you actually think about it…’

“Ghhh~~”

  With a loud burp, Wang Jing closed the Facebook screen. For the 19-year-old chemistry geek, Facebook stalking was the only hobby that fascinated him in times when he was alone and tired of taking wild guesses about how many molecules there would be in the entire universe. In such times, he usually visited his friends’ Facebook walls-mostly that of girls-and imagined strange things such as marriage, stage of ennui, and other numerous fantasized behaviors of ‘to-become-girlfriends’.

“It seems like old Wang Jing is facebooking again!”

“What is he up to anyways? Sometimes his abrupt weirdness frightens me like hell.”

“The excessive stalking is not the only problem. Have you guys heard him burp out really loud? I’d really love to find out what the hell goes on under that thick throat of his.”

“Guys, hush! He’s coming!”

“Wh, what are you ladies talking about?”, asked Wang Jing, as he approached the group of girls in his class.

“Nothing! Haha, it’s been some time we’ve had the opportunity to talk to you in person.”, Gloria, a close friend of Aika, answered with a stiff, feigned smile.

“Come one, girls. I heard at least something about me. I heard one of you say out my name during the conversation. By the looks of it, probably wasn’t such a nice thing about me, was it?”

“Hey, now Wang Jing…don’t be so defeatist, you know”

“Defeatist? A, are you guys kid, kidding me or what? I demand that I know the exact content of your conversation. I’m not asking you to explicate on the hexagonal structure of water-hydrogen bonding or something. It’s much simpler than explaining such phenomenon.”

“Here we go again. Another exciting daily chemistry lecture in every day conversation given by Professor Wang Jing. Everybody pay attention!”

“Don’t you dare mock me, you little..”

“Ghhhhhhh~”

  Wang Jing’s loud burp put an end to the hostile talk between him and Gloria. The girls went away with a contemptuous laughter at poor Wang Jing, and Wang Jing feebly walked back home, with the ridiculously thick chemistry textbook-Chemistry: Matter and Change-in his hands, as always.

  As he thought about the bonding angles of various substances, Wang Jing suddenly became overwhelmed by the feeling of dismay: ‘Why am I so terrible when it comes to talking with others? Especially girls, I think. Even today, that was Gloria, one of Aika’s close friends. Wang Jing spent the whole afternoon pondering upon his inability to converse with others in a friendly manner. He’d been in numerous quarrels before-he was somewhat of a hothead even though calm in most times-but to his surprise, the one he had that day made him feel depressed. All his confidence in his own brilliance, super-enthusiasm in chemistry, condescending manner were gone; instead, his mind was filled with worries for the future about his relationships with friends. He couldn’t concentrate on what he was studying. 

  Late at night, Wang Jing repeatedly wrote and erased chemical reaction equations in his notebook, kept his eyes on the brooding night sky, and murmured lonely lyrics of Deng Li Jun’s sad songs. Through the subtly cracked windows, he looked up at the brightly twinkling stars of the Virginia sky, ruminating on where he would fit in the diverse, multi-colored world. From the delineation of the stars, he could see Aika’s face: she was smiling at first with her beautiful emerald eyes gently twinkling at him. Then, in the blink of an eye, she stared at him patronizingly with her charming lips whispering esoteric chemistry-related terminologies. Bewitched by the two discrepant images of Aika up in the sky, Wang Jing drank in the night-scenery. Silently and smoothly, he sang a song of the Beatles with the mind of a drifter in this world.

“He’s a real nowhere man, sitting in a nowhere land, making all his nowhere plans for nobody…”

The Eyes I Can Never Forget...

This summer, I had a chance to go to Yanbian as an academic trip with three of my hubaes. We had decided to research the play culture in Yanbian; since it is a place to which many ancestors of today's Koreans moved either for better life or more active independence movement under the suppressing Japanese rule, we decided that it would be the perfect place to study the evolutionary stages of Korean culture focused on gaming. Because of such sad reminders of Korea's sorrowful days of suffer, Manchuria, a region in which Yanbian is included, has been the topic of numerous Korean literature pertaining to the mournful stories of deep resentment and longing for old homelands. In Yanbian, we saw many historical sites and meaningful places such as the Duman River, Changbai Mountain, etc. as expected. And we did feel some sudden burst in our emotions regarding historical consciousness as we visited many of places figuratively filled with “tears” of our ancestors. However, there was something else other than such historical sites in Yanbian that gave me a shocking emotional burst. It was meeting with a North Korean for the first time in my life.

On the second day of our travel, our guide suggested that we go to a North Korean restaurant where we probably would experience many surprising things. Although the dinner at the LyuGyung restaurant was not originally planned, we decided to go since we were all curious about North Korean style restaurant. We had already watched some North Korean TV shows and newscasts on the first night inside the hotel, but we never had any real-life encountering with an actual North Korean. Both thrilled and somewhat anxious, we entered the restaurant with shiny neon signs.

Inside, the lights were similar to those of bars or clubs; they were a bit gloomy, but not really gothic or frightening. The waitresses, who were really young-all of them probably in their 20s- and beautiful, said hello as we entered in a feigned cheerful tone. They were so defeatist and were making all kinds of feigned welcomes(although many working at restaurants usually do so) that I felt as if I was in a position where I sort of “bought” the waitress’s fake kindness. They served food with a timid North Korean accent. What I noticed to be strange was the atmosphere of rigidity. My companions and I had only spent a little more than half an hour, but we could all feel the awkward sense of stiffness in the waitress’s manners and speech.

Just as we were almost done with our dishes, the lights changed and the ‘Peabada’(‘Blood ocean’ in Korean) concerts started. Our guide told us that the frightening name ‘Peabada’ was the name of this musical group and that the waitresses-who were also performers-were mostly daughters of high-ranking officials in North Korea. We couldn’t figure out why the daughters of high-ranking officials would come to Yanbian instead of living in their homeland, but we could guess that whatever the actual reason was, it was not entirely from their free will. In the acoustic “concert”, members of the Peabada group sang songs and played the piano, guitar, and Gayagum. The lyrics of the songs were all propagandist-praising of the Kim dynasty through excessive flattery.

a group photo with the young waitress whose eyes exhibited
complex feelings of sorrow that more than moved our hearts. 

Other than the conformity issue, there was something else that truly caught our attention. It was their melancholy eyes which could never be belied even with their “smiley” faces. Even though they were grinning and delightful on the stage, their eyes were filled with sorrow. I was amazed at how profound I could feel by simply looking at someone’s eyes. When I looked into one of the waitress’s eyes, I swear I saw with my heart a silent yet loud SOS. From those eyes, I-for the first time in my life-deeply pondered about the whole division issue of our nation. Last semester, I spent a long time thinking about North Korean issues to write an essay about them, but I never felt empathic at all. North Korea was a place so distanced away that separated families and Gaeseong industrial complex were none of my problem. Now that I have actually met a North Korean in person, I am shameful of my past indifference. I don’t think I could ever forget the sorrow in those eyes. Because of those eyes, North Korea will be a place with much more spirit and value than the mere object of ideological disparity and emotional wound from the war long ago.