MGRP Project - Fictional Blog Post 5 - What It Means

그것은 내 마지막 게시물 이후 오랜 시간이되었습니다 - 그 이후 , 한나 는 ( 그녀의 한국어 중간 이름 은 ' 한강 나 ' 발음 ) 와 나는 함께 도시락을 먹기 시작했다. 우리가 우리의 상품 을 포장 한 후 문 에서 만나 함께 점심을 걷는 것은 거의의식 되고있다 . 그것은 한국어 와 채팅을 할 사람이 너무 멋진 되었습니다! 우리는 빅뱅 의 새로운 앨범 , 커피 프린스 에서 주인공 소년 척 하는 한 끔찍한 결정 , 한국 의 최신 패션 동향 에 대해 직행 이야기 .

내가 한나 를 만난 기쁩니다 . 우리의 우정 은 내가 미국 내 전체 교육 과정 했어요 교실 " 우정 "과 같은 아무것도 - 그녀는 같은 관심사를 가지고 있기 때문에 그녀는 실제로 저를 이해한다. 그것은 신선한 공기의 호흡 처럼 - 갑자기 처음 색상으로 보는 처럼 - 그것은 추위에 너무 오래 서 후 내 주위 뽑아따뜻한 담요 를 가지고 처럼!

조금 이상 하지만 갑자기 , 나는 학교에서 훨씬 더 안심 . 내가 한나 와 이야기 할 때 , 나는 항상 다른 사람이 저와 한국 내 버릇 에 대해 어떻게 생각하는지 에 대해 걱정하지 마십시오 . 우리가 친구가 될 것 때문에 , 그녀는 그녀의 다른 친구들 에게 소개 하고있다 ( 그들 중 누구도 한국 없음) 및 그들도 복도 에 나에게 ' 안녕 ' 말을 시작했다.

하지만 내가 가장 감사것은 그녀가 내 글 을 사랑하는 것입니다. 나는 그녀 에게 내가 과거에 가족 을 위해 작성된 이미 게시 여부 되었는지 여부를 부탁 했던 시 의 일부를 표시했습니다 . 나는 웃었다 물론 내가 아니라고 말했지만, 그녀는 내가 더 많은 사람들 에게 내 글 을 보여주는 시도해야 한다고 주장했다 . 그녀의 격려 어느 날 , 나는 내 영어 수업 은 시 단위 일 때 의 회전 내 시 의 몇 가지를 번역 하기로 결정 , 이유 있었다 .

일찍 와서 몇 분 수업 전에 내 자리 에 앉았다 때 다음 날 , 선생님이 나에게 접근 . 그녀는 손에 내 시를 가지고 있었는데 갑자기 빨간색 슬래시 기호 불편 파트너십을 구상 . 하지만 선생님 은 내 옆 자리에 앉아서 열심히 나를 바라 보았다.

" 유라 는 ,"그녀는 시작했다. "당신의 시는 매우 아름답습니다 ..."

나는 거의 그녀가 무슨 말을했다 의 나머지 부분을 듣지 않았다 - 그녀는 선명한 이미지와 은유 에 대해 뭔가를 언급 하지만, 나는 영어로 내 글 에 대한 선생님 칭찬 하는 것을 믿을 수 없었다 ! 그녀는 이시 를 영감 이 있었는지 나에게 물었다 그리고 내가 실제로 시 모든 시간 을 쓰고 그녀 에게 말했다 -하지만 한국어 . 때문에 나는 친구 , 나는 수업 을 위해 그 시 의 일부를 번역 하기로 결정 설명했다. 양 오코넬 은 더 많은 청각 에 관심을 보였지만 종 은 울렸다 . 즉, 2 주 전 이었고, 나는 우리가 많게 내가 좋아하는 것을 찾는거야 더 쌍 작가의 피드백 을 할 것으로 나타났습니다 .

나는 그녀가 학교 에 적응 하지 않았다 처럼 그녀가 느낀 이유 일일 한나 를 요청 했다. 나에게 , 그녀는 완벽하게 잘 피팅 처럼 보였다 모두가 그녀를 좋아 한다는 것을 그녀에게 말했다 .

. 그녀는 웃으며 그냥 내가 당신과 내가 친구 가 될 때까지 다른 사람에게 표현 하는 방법을 알고 하지 않았다 나에 대해 너무 많이 가 있다고 느낀 것 같아요 "라고 말했다 당신은 한국어 곤란 해하는 것 같다 되지 않습니다 - 내가 감사 한 가지 당신에 대해 다른 사람들이 그것을 이해하지 못하는 경우에도 , 당신의 유산 이 높은 잡고 있다. 당신은 내가 누군지 되고 더 편안하게 저를 도왔 입니다 . "

MGRP Project - Fictional Blog Post 4 - Reflection

믿을 수없는 일이 오늘 일어난 !

나는 뉴스, 드라마 , 음악, 한국의 친구 와 계속 daum.net 를 사용하고 정기적으로 내가 좋아하는 음악 그룹과 드라마 에 대한토론 에 참여한다. 지난 달 , 나는 다른 여자 와 나는 비슷한 정보 와 같은 스레드 의 많은 에 게시 것이라고 통지 하기 시작했다. 포럼 의 중간에 , 우리는 심지어 우리의 메시지를 서로 인정 했다.

음, 주말 , ang1004 - 즉 그녀의 스크린 이름 의 - 얼마나 그녀가 한국 을 놓친 그녀가 어떻게 미국 에 적응 하고 다음 날 학교에 지칠대로 지친 처럼 그녀는 생각하지 않았다 기록했다. 나는 그녀 가 내가 놀라지 않게 , 비슷한 상황 에 있었고, 같은 방법 을 느꼈다 알 수 있도록 직접 그녀의 메시징 고려했다. 드디어 일요일 저녁 에 ' 보내기 '를 히트 않은 경우, 나는 이 사람 과 함께 동정 좋을 것이라고 결정했다 잘하면 내가 불쾌 내 메시지에 보이지 않았다 .

길고도 짧은 이야기 를 만들기 위해 - 우리는 우리가 실제로 같은 학교에 다니는 것을 , 메시징 의 많은 과정을 통해 , 발견 ! 뿐만 아니라, 우리는 같은 오케스트라 클래스 에있다!

그녀의 진짜 이름은 한나 이고, I 는 1 바이올린 섹션의 첫 번째 의자 에 앉아 있는 동안 그녀는 첼로 섹션의 첫 번째 의자에 앉아있다. 나는 그녀 가 한 해 동안 첼로 의자 의 순위를 통해 이동 볼 수 없었다 , 하지만 난 정말 그녀에게 관심을 지불하지 않았다 - 그녀는 내가 다음 세대 포럼 에 와 채팅 것 하나라고 생각 커녕 .

... 사실, 나는 그녀가 전혀 와 많은 공통점 을 가진 소녀 라고 못했네 . 약간의 악센트 하지만 내가 전에 다른 첼리스트 와 함께 그녀의 농담 을 본 적이 - 그녀는 영어를 유창하게 말했다. 복도 에서 , 나는 내가 아는 한 , 그녀는 자신 에 앉아 방지하기 위해 라이브러리에있는 그녀의 점심 시간 을 낭비하지 않고, 여러 사람 에 의해 인사 그녀를 볼 수 있으며 했습니다 .

그녀는 받아 그녀 가 어디 편안하게 하는 사람처럼 보인다 - 모든 날 싫어 . 나는 그녀가 내가 클래스 에있는 것으로 나타 사람의 유형 에 반영 궁금 ... 궁금합니다. 그녀는 어쩌면 내가 학교에서 그녀가 보다 더 적게 속한다는 것을 생각하면 나는 궁금하다.

MGRP Project - Fictional Blog Post 3 - Lonely

정보 는 내가 어렸을 때 로 사용 하는 방법 이 아닙니다. 난 2 년 전 아주 행복한 아이 인 기억 . 우리 부모님은 아직도 내가 친척 모두에게 포옹과 키스를 주고 사랑하는 방법 에 대해 이야기 하고, 누군가의 생일 이 주변에 올 때마다 , 나는 그 사람 에게 시를 작성 하는 방법 .

" 당신은 단어와 같은 아름다운 일을 " 엄마가 말할 것입니다. 그런 다음 그녀는 보통 읽는 사람 , 내 아버지를 조금씩 이동 하고 , 물어 보곤 " 그 권리 , 꿀 이 아닌가요? "

작업 에 자신의 농도를 파괴 하는 습관 을 하지 않는 한 , 그는 중단 된 페이지의 장소로 자신의 손가락을 잡고 나에게 미소를 그의 머리를 들어 올리고 있다.

"우리 유라 는 매우 재능이있다 . "


오늘 다시 영어로 내 첫 번째 논문 을 가지고 모든 종이 위에 빨간 많이 가 있기 때문에 나는 지금 울고 싶은 기분 . 많은 원, 물음표 , 그리고 밑줄 친 문장 이있다 ...

심지어 영어 - 한국에서 선생님 과 친구들 은 모두 내가 좋은 작가 임을 말해 ! 그들은 모두 가 웃으며 말했다, " 유라 는 미국의 학교에서 문제가 되지 않습니다 - 그녀 가 태어난 것처럼 그녀는 소리! "

어쩌면 그들은 모두 잘못 생각 하기 시작 해요 . 어쩌면 내가 정말 영어 모른다. 영어를 모르는 경우에도 , 나는 아직도 한국어 좋은 작가 임을 알고있다.

난 그냥 학교에서 사람들이 이해할 수있는 희망 - 정말 작가 입니다 .

MGRP Project - Fictional Post 2 - Belonging

학교는 너무 혼란 스러울 수 있습니다 !

우리는 오늘 수업 시간에과학 실험실 쓰기까지 작업 에 할당했다 -작업은 특정 실험을 수행 하는 방법에 대한 자세한 지침 을 작성 했고 우리 는 파트너 로 작성 하기로했다 . 모든 사람이 이미 서로를 알고 있기 때문에 , 다른 학생들 은 매우 빠르게 제휴 . 파트너 가없는 유일한 사람은 케니 라는 이름의 학생 이었다.

내가 케니 작업을 앉아서 그 직전에 , 나에게 물었다 넓은 미소 로 나는 6 학년 의 플래시백 을 가졌다 " 우리는 내가 관심을 지불 하지 않은 ? 무슨 일을 하고, 그래서 . "

그는 전체 수업 시간 동안 채팅 유지 ! 케니 는 주기적으로 우리 가 완료 되었는지 확인 하려면 검사 할 과제 에 대해 아직 다른 학생들이 산만 한 후 나 한테 물어 이동 로 이동합니다. 그는 심지어 그들이 바로 교사 의 앞에 5 단계 다운 쓴 다른 학생 에게 물었다 !

내가 창피해 하지만 빨리 일반적인 질문으로 교사 를 분산 하기 위해 노력 했다. 평소 전혀 질문을 하지 않았기 때문에 씨 블레이즈 는 조금 놀란 듯했지만, 그것은 일 - 부정 행위를 했다 - 나는 , 내가 말을해야합니다 - 그는 우리가 여부를 의심하지 않았다.

내 디지털 번역기 몇 번 을 채찍질 했다 , 하지만 난 마침내 우리의 실험 지침 을 작성 완료 되면 , 내 세공품 을 관찰하기 위해 용지를 개최. 심지어 항의하기 위해 생각할 수있는 전에 케니 내 손 에서 용지 를 납치 교실 의 전면 까지 경계 씨 블레이즈 의 얼굴 앞에서 손을 흔들었다 .

" ? 씨 블레이즈 를 참조하십시오 우리는 먼저 완료 당신이 알고 있기 때문에 , 그것을 에도 많은 도움을주고 그녀는 영어 와 약간의 문제 가 있었다 - ! ? 만 보면 우리 는 좋은 일을 하지 않았다 "

나는 연기가 되었습니다! 나는 빨간색 이었고, 나는 확실히 모든 사람이 내 파트너 가 우리모두 밖으로 완전히 바보 를 만드는 것을방법을 나에게 능글 능글 가 없기 때문에 방을 둘러 보고 참을 수 없었 - 점차적으로 자신 에게 더 많은 크레딧을 주는 작업 완료 . 나는 할당 된 독서 가 없었다 하더라도 ,과학 교과서 에 자신을 묻었다.

그 같은 사람 은 고등학교에서 무엇을하고 있는지 이해하지 않습니다. 그는 너무 미숙 한 것 같다 수업 시간에 모든 관심을 지불하지 않습니다 . 지금까지 내가 본대로 , 그는 매일 퀴즈 그가 지금까지 찍은 것을 테스트에 실패 하고 그 그냥이 클래스 또는 올해 에없는 확신 해요 . 다른 사람들 은 조용히 자신의 일 을 하고 있었다 - 왜? 이유 는 바보 아이가 함께 붙어 것일까 ?

MGRP Project - Fictional Post 1 - Beginning Again

내일 학교 에 대한 불안 입니다 . 나는 미친 사람 처럼 행동 과 강박 간식 , 내 방에 임의의 물건을 따기 와 페이스 북 에 목적없이 조롱 하고 있습니다. 그래서 그들은 더 이상 내 안에 없을 때 , 두려움 이 사라지고 있다는 희망에서 두려움 을 작성하는 내 자신의 블로그를 시작 하기로 결정했다.

어머니는 강한 여성 이고 아버지는 똑똑한 사람이다. 그녀는 항상 말을 좋아한다 " 당신은 내 힘과 당신의 아버지의 머리가 . " 엄마가 그런 일을 말할 때 , 그것은 나 자신에 대해 더 기분이 - 세상 의 관심을 지불 하는 사람 입니다 같은 느낌. 그녀가 모르는 것은 세계에서 다른 사람이 생각 하지 않는다는 것이다 이 나에 대해 .

내가 6 학년 때 12 년 전 , 나는 이미 삼년 에 미국에서 살고 있었다 . 그러나, 내 첫 번째 언어 는 여전히 한국어 이고, I 는 올해 중반 동안 정상 , 영어를 사용하는 클래스에 전송 하고, 내가 아는 사람이 없었기 때문에 나는 더 부끄러워 느꼈다. 선생님이 좋은 여자 처럼 보였다 하지만 그녀는 내가 그녀가 말한 것을 이해할 수 있다고 생각 하는 것 같지 않았다. 나는 그녀가 한 말 을 이해 했다 , 그러나 나는 너무 수줍어 했기 때문에 나는 그 처음 몇 일 동안 말을 할 수 없었다. 그래서 어느 날 , 그녀는 나에게 유일한 한국어 학생 에 가져왔다. 그는 큰 소년 이었다 - 나는 교사가 가르치는 동안 그의 논문 , 또는 낮잠 에 강아지 사진을 다른 학생들과 노는 , 또는 그릴 것소년으로 즉시 그를 인정했다. 나는 선생님 이 그를 통해 가져 된 이유를 알고 느낌을 했지만, 잠시 동안 그를 위로 아래로 찍고 후 , 나는 그가 실제로 나를 도울 수있는 건 아무것도 없었다 결정했다.

나는 그들의 접근 방식을 통지 하지 않는 척 하면서 " 유라 는 " 선생님 은 내 관심을 얻기 위해 했다. 나는 선생님 올려다 보았다 . "이것은 앤디 리 입니다 - 그는 너무 한국인 !"

나는 미소를 지었다. 앤디는 그의 얼굴에 혼란 미소와 함께 서 있었다 .

"이제 , 앤디, " 선생님이 엄숙한 표정으로 말했다 - 그녀가 그에게 매우 중요한 무언가를 말하려고 것처럼 . " 유라 는 영어를 이해 하지 않고, 그녀는 당신 의 도움이 필요합니다. 당신이 수업 시간에 유라 에게 도움이 될 수 있을까요 ?"

앤디 의 중요성 과 함께 정리 하고 자신있게 미소를 지었다.

"예 , 부인 블랙 스 버그 !" 그는 열정적으로 외쳤다 .

" 원더풀 ! " 부인 블랙 스 버그 는 그녀의 손을 박수 . "지금 , 당신은 두 괜찮아 , 지금은 좋은 친구 ?"

한편 , 내가 다시 착색 에 갔다 - 그녀는 그에게 나를 향해 부드러운 밀어 주었다.

* 안녕하세요! * 그는 한국 에서 많이 미국화 발음으로 인사 . 나는 대답 하지 않았다.

* 무엇 ... um ... 당신 의 이름은 무엇입니까 ? * 그는 깨진 한국어로 물었다.

내가 색칠 정지 떨어져 이기는 하고 다시 작업을 진행하기 전에 , 잠시 그를 올려다 보았다 . 그는 결국 왼쪽과 재결합 그의 친구 를 하고 나와 함께 잘 했다 . 나는 그의 도움을 필요로 하지 않았다 - 나는 선생님이 어쨌든 내 자신의 한 말 을 충분히 이해했다.

하지만 뭔가 내가 기대하지 않았다 일어났다 . 선생님 , 부인 블랙 스 버그 는 , 나를 무시했다. 사실, 모든 사람들이 나를 무시했다. 모두가 영어를 이해할 수 없다고 가정 하고 내가 말을하지 않았다 불행 느꼈다. 내 모든 친구들 이 서로 채팅을 할 나의 선생님은 저 를 제외하고 답을 수업 시간에 모든 사람 에 호출합니다.

앤디는 저와 몇 번 이야기 했지만, 나는 무엇보다도 그 화가 였다. 아빠가 뭘 알 겠어? 그는 정말 한국어 아니었다 - 우리는 모두 아무것도 없었다.


그리고 지금, 나는 긴장 입니다 - 내일 있기 때문에,ESOL 클래스 에서 그리고 정규 수업 에 전송됩니다. 그것은 ESOL 에서 지루 쉽게 - 사탕 영어로 색상, 모양 , 공휴일 이름 -하지만 은 적어도 그들이 나를 간과하지 않았다. 나는 ESOL 에서 내 친구를 떠나 두려워 하고 나는 사람들이 생각하는 것 같군요 - 난 영어를 편안 아니라서 - 내가 말할 수있는 아무것도 없다 .

The History of a Total Nobody - Fiction, Chapter 1

There are thousands of books written on hundreds of important people in history. In those books, the personality quirks, manner of dress, journey, failures and successes of those historical persons of interest are recorded, sometimes very dryly, sometimes in the most vivid and intriguing detail, and sometimes with a sense of mistrust. Someone, such as George Washington for example, has their portrait drawn up in an almost Picasso-like display through pages and pages of pen strokes by one person seeking to capture the essence of another.

It's grand. It's a rich tapestry. It's an incredible display of the human curiosity and desire to understand.

It was all so beyond Jayna. At 23, she was unremarkably unemployed and still living with her parents. Every day she woke up with a slight buzzing noise in her head, wondering what in the world she was doing. Having graduated from university, she was slowly but surely sinking into the terrible business of apathy. Sometimes she would open the refrigerator, even when she was not hungry. She did it simply to look, and then close the door again. If she were out with friends, she did not always say very clever things. More often, Jayna would simply repeat things word-for-word that others just said in an effort to mask the fact that she had absolutely nothing to contribute to the conversation. Her head often felt hollow and yet heavy.

Her eating habits were sporadic. One day determined to be healthy, the next she could be found sitting cross-legged on her parent's living room floor, slurping up a bowl of instant ramen noodles. Jayna would try to help out around the house sometimes. She would pick up after her younger brother and wipe off the kitchen floor with the old Swiffer, and perhaps do the dishes once or twice. But it was just not significant enough and her small efforts were unnoticeable, and thus, went unnoticed.

Jayna was not a willful girl, but she was prone to being misguided and undercut by her self-doubts. Her parents never pushed her excessively, but it appeared that they did not expect much from her either. When she was younger, she could get away for months without showing her report card to her parents without much effort because they were often at work (and if not at work, then at church function, or bible study, or meeting). Though her grades were not impressive, they were not troubling either; she was an average student, flying just under the recognizable radar.

It's not that she did not dream though. Jayna would spend hours of her childhood reading books and dreaming of ways she could be fantastic and what a difference that her life would make in the world. She would read about people like Helen Keller and Harry Potter and wonder about what sort of shortcomings she would overcome, what adventures she'd have. However, nobody knew about the gorgeous dreams Jayna had. All anybody ever saw of those dreams was the blank expression of vacancy in her face when she flew high and fast through the skies of her imagination.

"Jayna, wake up!"

So begins the detailed history of a common-place, unremarkable, just so nobody.

Feature Article final: Coffee-The World's Real Best Friend

Feature Article

Brenda Kim

Did you know that with an annual consumption of over 400 billions cups, coffee is the World’s most popular beverage?

When I reach the third floor of the Johnson Center on George Mason campus and sit down to a table among my closest friends with a cup of coffee in hand, I'm usually asked at least once in an incredulous tone: What cup is that?

Sometimes people will shake their heads and smile as they say the words "Coffee addict" under their breath. I have no qualms with this nickname, though it is inaccurate. While I do enjoy the  soothing effects of the aromatic black bean juice immensely I'm not addicted to it, and were I addicted it would not be to the coffee itself but to the wondrous, life-enriching, energy-infusing drug contained and naturally produced within the coffee, that is, caffeine. For the reason that caffeine can be mildly addictive and be the cause for some increased heart rate, increased blood pressure and irregular heartbeat, I mostly understand the concern that my friends have for me when they sarcastically attack my coffee dependence. So my response to the playful concerns of my friends and family is usually something like: "I know, I know, I'm trying to quit."

But whenever I sit down with a flowery mug full of my favorite form of percolated water, as I am now, I can't help but wonder if it's really the villain that my well-intentioned girlfriends chalk it up to be?

I understand the association it has with other, clearly unhealthy habits like smoking and drinking (heck, there's even a movie called Coffee and Cigarettes...or is it Cigarettes and Coffee? It was a good movie anyway, I recommend it), but does it really have an equal share in the malignant effects that its companions inflict? Or could it just be severely misunderstood?

Did you know that coffee was adopted as the national drink in America at the famous Boston Tea Party in 1773?

“Coffee is bad. Don’t drink it!” My mom said this as she took a sip from her own steaming mug. “I only drink it because I need to for work. But don’t you start drinking it!”

Her foreboding warnings were completely lost on me. I was already predisposed to loving coffee from an early age. I wasn’t allowed to drink coffee, but a different hot beverage was available for me to drink at church, a hot barley tea called Bo Ree Cha; my favorite elementary age experiment was to mix sugar and non-dairy creamer into the tea, lovingly dubbed “Monster Drink”. I upgraded to the real stuff at the turn of middle school, starting off with the sweeter drinks (lattes and frappucinos); and I felt completely justified in drinking coffee since I’d done book reports on historical figures and famous writers, finding that they would not have been nearly so great were it not for the secret meetings held in local coffee shops over a fresh cup of the signature beverage…I wondered why it was that my parents felt so strongly against my drinking coffee, but it wasn’t until later that I discovered that it was because they were afraid that the caffeine would stunt my growth.

Meanwhile I was completely sold on the romantic draw of coffee and its history, though it wasn’t until the end of high school that it became a daily necessity.

Did you know that espresso was invented by a Frenchman in 1822?

Being the wizened, experienced coffee-drinker that I am today, I can graciously admit that coffee (as with most everything) should be enjoyed in moderation. When I first began working for Starbucks in fall of 2006, I seemingly had no inkling as to what the word meant. I had unlimited access to all the espresso and steamed milk that my already wildly beating heart could desire, so every hour or so that I was on the job I made myself a small latte (or “tall”, if you want to get technical). At the end of my shift, I was sure to make a venti, triple shot latte or two to take home; and I never forgot to mark out the bag of coffee beans that I was entitled to have once a week, free of charge. On my off days I made good use of the bags I took home; grinding the whole beans at home and brewing myself a fresh cup was a must, and I became spoiled by the quality Arabica beans I had daily access to through Starbucks.

I only worked at the Starbucks for about 3 months, and due to schedule clashes with school I had to withdraw from the job. I was already beginning to notice the affects of my heavy coffee binging.

The flavored lattes contained a number of sugary syrups pumped into them to give them their distinctive tastes; some places, I discovered recently, pump servings with two different syrups into their lattes to make more complex flavor combinations. However the syrups, along with all the milk and whipped cream and caramel or chocolate toppings a person could ask for, add up to a hefty sum of calories and fat, which in turn adds up to greater chances of heart disease.

I had started to understand the deadly assassin that sugar is early on with Starbucks and so began building a preference for just a simple espresso and milk latte, or milk coffee.

About at that same time, I quickly began to discover that millions of fearful Americans were pointing their fingers at the wrong culprit. Coffee has been wrongfully accused of being the cause for so many different health problems however the real trouble may actually be what people add to the coffee themselves.

The brew itself has been tested in thousands of trials and found to actually decrease the risk of type 2 diabetes (an epidemic that exploded in America not too long ago), colon cancer, liver cirrhosis, and gallstones.

“Overall the research shows that coffee is far more healthful than harmful…For most people, very little bad comes from drinking [coffee], but a lot of good” –Dr. Tomas DePaulis

Anti-oxidants are molecules that counteract and/or prevent the effects of a naturally occurring bodily process called oxidation. Oxidation results in the release of free radicals which damage cells and this is a danger particularly for the brain and for development of cancer. Fruits and vegetables are often labeled as a great source of anti-oxidants, but I bet you didn’t know that just one cup of coffee can contain more anti-oxidants than an entire bowl of fruit!

There are even healthful effects that coffee has for certain bad habits.

Cigarette-smokers and alcohol-consumers be aware: coffee has been found to greatly reduce heart disease and liver damage when large amounts of coffee are consumed on a daily basis.

But let’s put aside all this evidence, and the fact that coffee has been found to reduce headaches, speed up the affects of certain headache pills so you can feel better faster, and help fight off Parkinson’s.

Coffee as a simple, rich, and aromatic beverage should be enough reason in and of itself to take up a cup whenever one fancies.

It’s a drink that’s faced much discrimination, but in light of all the new information available about its many benefits and (found to be) far fewer drawbacks, I think I’ll celebrate with a trip downstairs to pour a mug-full of milk and my favorite brew.

Profile of a Bad Man final

Some of the earliest memories I have of growing up in the northern Virginia area include my many wanderings about old church grounds. The dusty, wooden playground with the two swings and monkey bars were a favorite haunt of mine; that, and the small storage space behind the sanctuary where all the choir uniforms hung loosely on wire hangers, and cardboard boxes were stacked high with costumes and crafts from Sunday school plays. I would wander about because my parents would leave for home without me, assuming that if no one else gave me a ride to my house, then I could just make the mile and half trek back home on foot.

I suppose my mom and dad just felt that secure about leaving me in the care of random Korean church folk, but I couldn't help thinking that they were too generous with their confidence every time I mounted the sidewalk home. The building itself was affectionately nicknamed "the warehouse" for its large, essentially box-like shape; it had a giant, gold-painted cross stuck on the side of it that kids would pass as they ran and screamed in a fury of energy and exhilaration. I remember the church in summer time, how pink and white flowers popped out of well-trimmed bushes and hedges, and grandmothers would sing Korean hymnals as they set the wooden picnic tables for lunch.

I made fast friends with a couple of the other children in Sunday school at church, and it must have been everyday for a year that I ran up to my parents during lunch time to ask if I could sleep over at Mina's house or Grace's place. My dad would shrug and tell me to ask my mom, and she in turn would sigh and tell me what a headache it will be to have to go home to get extra clothes and toiletries. Normally I was able to get my way during the summer time, since convincing her was only a matter of time and persistent whining (and I had no shortage of either); but if homework came up then I knew there was no chance. I had an unfortunate habit formed out of my early years of schooling of never getting my homework done before Sunday night, and my mom was done-do, not done-do nothing policy.

Sleepover or no, it was fun darting through the legs of adults in the cafeteria and having dangerous contests like, who could jump the furthest off of the swings; every once in a while I’d check on the flower petals I was pressing underneath the large church sports trophies. To mellow out in the afternoons, the girls hung out in the old bathroom with the huge mirror and slightly broken heater. By far, my favorite activity was to interrupt whatever the children’s pastor, Peter Suh, was working on and chatter away nonsensically until he couldn’t work anymore. It was towards the end of 6^th grade that I began to notice that the adults liked to play games of their own as well.

“No. You can’t sleep over at Mina’s house.”

“Aw but why? It’s summer!”

“It’s better if you come home tonight, I’m sure Mina’s parents would agree. Come on, get in the car. Let’s go home now.”

“Can’t I at least hang out for a little bit longer? I’ll get a ride with Joanne or Daniel.”

“Your sister and brother are at home already. We have to go, say goodbye.”

I was pouting but my mom wasn’t budging, so I turned to Mina, slapped hands with her and promised that I’d have our club pledge memorized by the next week. I got into the car but noticed as I shut the car door that the church was a lot quieter than usual.

I didn’t have the pledge memorized by the following week but it didn’t really matter because I didn’t see Mina the next week. Somewhat relieved, I breathed easy and determined that I would memorize it by the time I saw Mina again. I actually never memorized that pledge and things quickly went downhill from then on. It was as though a large, dark storm cloud settled itself over my church, and instead of bringing rain (which you could run around in and have fun making a mess of yourself) it brought misery. A permanent misery rain cloud. I was so annoyed.

Everyone got to be in such bad moods. I was walking to leave through the front doors of the church one day and one of the less friendly grandmas that I had seen around church was passing by. Well-trained by my mom to bow courteously anytime there were old people present, I bobbed my head and greeted her in formal Korean speech. She glared at me. I saw her squinty little eyes get still squintier and she stared at me with eyes that meant to offend. I was stopped; mentally scanning through the movements I’d made play-by-play, I concluded with thinking, ‘What- did- I- DO?’ So not right.

I had this knack for walking into situations at the wrong time. While stepping out to go to the bathroom during the Youth Group Sunday service, I came out to see a thin old man trying to take a swing at the senior pastor. My first thought was, ‘There’s no way he could take him. The pastor is at least 20 years younger than him.’ It was weirder to watch than watching Scott, a boy living up the street from me, cry and whine about his older brother Justin not letting him have the bamboo stick in his hand. Another example would be when I found all the doors in the church locked after service. I walked round to the front to find fully grown men and women with arms linked and blocking the only entrance that was open. I asked them to let me through so that I could get my bible and go home but they didn’t seem to hear me. ‘What is up with these adults?’

My mom later explained to me that no, the adults were not playing an intense game of Red Rover when they were standing at the entrance and that the old man trying to swing at the pastor was much more serious than a schoolyard fight.

“This is all because of that man,” she seethed.

“What man?”

She pointed at her arm which was in a sling at that time, attributing its needle for a cradle to a terrible, horrible, no-good monster. It was the monster that was wreaking havoc on church; tearing up relationships and scattering people from the church with every word that fell from his mouth. I pictured green scales, red eyes, curled lips and sharp teeth; there were laser beams flying out of eyes and a big mouth as a giant, spiked tail flew about and stubby, clawed arms swung at a short, box-like building; I imagined loud, piercing roars of triumph and exaggerated dread on the faces of black and white people who pointed and yelled as a giant shadow swept over them.

Yes. I pictured Godzilla.

Who else could cause this much destruction in so short a time?!

I could almost see it: Swipe! There goes a pastor’s credibility. Swipe! My mother needs a sling!

This imagination carried on far longer than it should have, but since I had no face or name to recognize him by, Godzilla’s stayed crystal in my mind. Even as I neared the end of high school, I found myself able to recognize symptoms of Godzilla’s touch in people my age; his radioactive footprint was stamped into people’s eyes. He wasn’t openly talked about and neither was church; he was like a whispered nightmare and continued to have his ghoulish form in my mind until I sat down to dinner with my dad one day.

“Dad, who was that man? What did he do? And why did he do it?”

My dad’s long salt- and pepper-colored eyebrows wriggled up and down a bit as he chewed thoughtfully, like an old wise-man, searching memory to find an appropriate beginning to a terrible tale. I was eagerly waiting, sitting up a bit straighter in anticipation of gory details and a shocking story. What came out instead was quite normal; almost boring by story-telling standards.

There was a man and he wanted money. He conspired to get that money by convincing church people to sell their land to a certain company that he’d discovered (and made a private deal with). People were opposed and he tried to discredit those people with rumors and bullying others into taking his side. The twist about his being involved in a popular cult in Korea sounded promising. He was just a young man, my dad said. The scales fell away and I pictured light skin, and a head of black hair.

“Did you know him when we first went to that church?”

My dad shook his head slowly. Apparently he was in China when we came to that particular church on a business trip. A blue suit replaced claws and a sharp jaw line took the place of a gaping mouth full of jagged teeth.

“Why did he do all those things?”

Dad scratched his head and selected some vegetable side dishes to place on his rice. He was asked to do this sort of thing by the cult leader in Korea. I guess he thought he was doing the right thing.

Later, I looked at a picture of a smiling, round-faced old man who had been the leader of a people group nicknamed The Moonies. He would have seemed a kindly sort of man to me if he hadn’t been the cause for an embarrassing, enraging, stupefying church split on this side of the world. He had a wife and children, a normal man by all accounts, except for the fact that he declared himself to be the Second incarnation of Christ and crowned himself savior of the entire world. I imagine Charles Kim, the man who’d been the catalyst for the chaos in church, to be a family man as well, maybe a bit more stooped and with some gray in his hair now. I wonder what his children must think of their father and whether his wife was proud of him.

One man thought he was Jesus, another man believed him; look what came of it. I had prayed a few times, wondering why it was that God could allow for such ridiculous men to be able to inflict so much pain on His people. I took comfort in a passage in the bible one day:

Jesus told them another parable: "The kingdom of heaven is like a man who sowed good seed in his field. But while everyone was sleeping, his enemy came and sowed weeds among the wheat, and went away. When the wheat sprouted and formed heads, then the weeds also appeared.

 "The owner's servants came to him and said, 'Sir, didn't you sow good seed in your field? Where then did the weeds come from?'

 " 'An enemy did this,' he replied.
      "The servants asked him, 'Do you want us to go and pull them up?'

 " 'No,' he answered, 'because while you are pulling the weeds, you may root up the wheat with them. Let both grow together until the harvest. At that time I will tell the harvesters: First collect the weeds and tie them in bundles to be burned; then gather the wheat and bring it into my barn.' "

            “Dad, what is Charles Kim doing now?”

            “I think he’s at another church.”

Feature Article: Coffee

When I reach the third floor of the Johnson Center on George Mason campus and sit down to a table among my closest friends with a hot cup of coffee in hand, I'm usually asked at least once in an incredulous tone: What cup is that? Sometimes people will shake their heads and smile as they say the words "Coffee addict" under their breath. I have no qualms with this nickname, though inaccurate. While I do enjoy the  soothing effects of the aromatic black bean juice immensely I'm not addicted to it, and were I addicted it would not be to the coffee itself but to the wondrous, life-enriching, energy-infusing drug contained and naturally produced within the coffee, that is, caffeine. For the reason that caffeine can be mildly addictive and be the cause for some increased heart rate, increased blood pressure and irregular heartbeat, I mostly understand the concern that my friends have for me when they sarcastically attack my coffee dependence. So my response to the playful concerns of my friends and family is usually something like: "I know, I know, I'm trying to quit."

But whenever I sit down with a flowery mug full of my favorite form of percolated water, as I am now, I can't help but wonder if it's really the villain that my well-intentioned girlfriends chalk it up to be?

I understand the association it has with other, clearly unhealthy habits like smoking and drinking (heck, there's even a movie called Coffee and Cigarettes...or is it Cigarettes and Coffee? It was a good movie anyway, I recommend it), but does it really have an equal share in the malignant effects that its companions inflict? Or could it just be severely misunderstood?

I embark to find out.

Liar

“We have to talk.”

“F*ck you.”

“What?”

“F*ck you.”

“Why are you saying that?”

“You do not come down and invade my space like that! That is not your space! You had no right—”

“What are you saying? I have every right, this is my house! What right do you have?”

“That is my space, MY space—!”

“No—“

“Isn’t that what I paid for? Isn’t that what I pay for—?!”

“No—!”

“You had no right!”

“YOU do not pay for anything! Your parents pay for you staying here. And no, that is not what they pay for-!”

“It’s still my money, it’s still for me, you had absolutely no right, NO right—“

“I live here, I’m a daughter in this household! What right do you have?! Who are you?!”

“…”

“Let’s go downstairs and talk.”

“No, let’s not go downstairs and talk.”

“Go downstairs and let’s talk.”

*Door shuts*

“No. Why do we need to go downstairs? Why don’t we just talk right here?”

“Because I don’t want to wake up my parents.”

“Why don’t we just talk calmly and rationally right here? Go ahead. Speak.”

“Open the door and let’s go downstairs.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to wake up my parents and have them join our little chat here! Do you not know what the situation is?! If they wake up and come down here it will be worse for you. Don’t you realize I can’t do anything if they wake up?!”

“…”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“Oh here we go.”

“Why did you lie to me?”

“It’s none of your f*cking business.”

“It is my business. I’m a daughter in this household, this is more my house than it will ever be yours, and this isn’t something I can hide from them, I have to tell my parents but I need the truth! This is the only way I can help! Don’t you understand?!”

“GO AHEAD! I KNEW you would judge her like that—”

“I’m not judging her—“

“I knew you would. Everything you say about accepting is shit—”

“Stop it—“

“I KNEW it—!”

“I’M NOT JUDGING HER I’M JUDGING YOU! I’ve sinned against YOU! If I’m wrong then just tell me! Tell me the truth!”

“…”

“Why did you have to lie about taking her home?”

“…”

“What happened downstairs?”

“It’s not your fuc-”

“It IS! It’s my business! Do you realize you will get kicked out if you don’t tell me the truth?! Don’t you know I don’t want that? I don’t want that! So just tell me the truth!”

“GO AHEAD! I’VE BEEN THROWN OUT BEFORE! GO AHEAD!”

“?!”

“My dad got fired from a job before, know why? BECAUSE HE-!”

“I didn’t ask about these things! Why are you saying this?!”

“Go ahead, f*ck you!”

“What happened downstairs?”

“I hate this f*cking place—”

“What happened downstairs?!”

“…”

“What happened downstairs? Just tell me!”

“F*ck this.”

“Stop, no! We- are- not- done—”

“Get the f*ck out of the way.”

“…”

“GET THE F*CK OUT OF MY WAY!”

Upstairs…

Jae-young: Are you okay? I heard everything.

Me: …

Jae-young: Brenda?

Me: He wasn’t always like this…

Jae-young: Ohh no, no, no of course. Don’t cry, it’ll be okay.

Me: I don’t understand.

Jae-young: It’s okay, don’t try to understand right now. You did the right thing. Don’t cry, it’ll be okay. You did the right thing.

The Profile of a Bad Man

The first time that my church split was the ugliest. I was an 11-year-old witness to the shameful, twisted monster that my church became and, like the city folk left alive after each attack in those Godzilla movies, I was left to pick up the pieces and deal with the aftermath.

Sure. It's just church, and one of many, many others. I've never had to suffer the loss of economic or familial security, the death of a close friend, or even the uncertainty of health. Sometimes, even now, when people explain to me their grievances I find myself only able to listen with a, somewhat, detached sympathy because the lack of shared experience. Since I have never known those kind of losses, I can only relate so deeply. Often times I wonder if my pains with the church are even comparable with some of the losses that friends and family have confided in me; I wonder if maybe I haven't blown the situation with my church back then up and out of proportion. Sometimes I say to myself, 'Maybe it really wasn't that bad...'

Then I'll meet with old friends from that church and I see the monster's footprint in their eyes. It was in the way they're eyes would go to the ground as we danced around the subject of church.

Godzilla had been there, there was no denying that.

I never knew the name or face of the man who'd started everything. I don't know if he was the one who'd started the rumors about the senior pastor stealing money from the treasury but I've been chalking it up to his doing for the past 10 years. I don't know exactly why the police showed up at our church one Sunday afternoon; people were outside, linking arms and forming a barricade with their bodies and I always imagine that it's against that man. That man.

Maybe he wore a gray suit. In my mind I always imagined him to be a man in his 40's with slightly graying hair because my parents were about that age. I recalled the cold, disgusted look that one of the old grandmothers had given me when I bowed in greeting to her. As a child I was not keeping track of who was on what side (because there eventually were two sides to the church), but clearly she had. I took the hardened look on what should have been a kindly face and added it to the profile of an imaginary real man that I, in my childish mind, ascribed all the causes of the church's problems.

(to be continued)