Month: March 2021

The Musical Connection

Music is a force that connects us all and that is an essential part of our communication with other people and with our inner selves. People have made music for thousands of years, every culture making its own special kind. Even after the original foundation of music, it still grows and changes, along with humanity, bringing to life different styles and feelings. In just about every person, you will find that music has made connections and bonds, even if you don’t realize it at first. Music is an extraordinary thing that feeds our minds and memories and is a crucial part of both the personal and public worlds.

Music works as a stimulant for memory. You know that one jingle that you can never get out of your ear? That was done on purpose, just to make you remember that company or brand. Memories are stirred with music. Even if a song is playing faintly in the background of an event, hearing that same song later will cause you to remember that event. Certain songs make us nostalgic for the past, reminding us of days long gone, just as a photograph does. Songs are tied to places, people, and things with an invisible bond that can never be erased. A certain song that used to play on the radio might make you remember sitting with old friends listening to the songs one by one, dreading the imminent repetition of the playlist, or some other memory, both notable and forgettable. Songs make us remember certain feelings, especially the feelings we experienced in the event we associate with the song. For example, whenever something is taking a really long time or you are waiting for something or someone, the iconic Jeopardy theme song just comes into your head, just as it plays when the audience is waiting for the contestants to answer the final question. Songs associated with memories also can connect us to people with those same memories. Perhaps there was a song you always played with your family or a song from a television show you watched with your family. You would associate the people with the song and the song with the people, singing along together as a unit. Music and sound is an important part of our memories.

Our own emotions are connected to music. As well as being connected to memories, music connects with our deepest psyche, giving a feeling that is hard to describe. Some of us have an absolute favorite artist, or multiple favorite artists, and others have favorite songs scattered among the millions of artists that exist. Each person has their own taste in music, which is different from, even if similar to, everyone else’s taste, and with the myriad genres and artists to choose from, or even just to stumble upon, it’s only a matter of time until you find something you like. When you do find that special song or special artist, it is hard to stop listening to them, and your life becomes infatuated with music. Even as a singer and musician, I didn’t really have a favorite song or artist until a year or so ago, and when I did, it was like a whole new world had moved in next door and invited me in. 

I have found lots of songs that I really enjoy listening to, some of which really strike a chord that seems to be of the very essence that I am made of. Two of the songs are written by the same artist, Amber Liu, and they are “Love Run” from her first mini-album as a solo artist in SM Entertainment, an agency in South Korea, and “Need to Feel Needed,” a single. She has other songs that I really like, and her voice just really resonates with me, as well as the visuals in her music videos. I also found a group that I really love now, called 볼빨간 사춘기 (Bolbbalgan Sachungi), usually shortened to just Bol4. Bol4 is a South Korean band that makes Indie K-Pop and folk rock music. The group originally debuted with two members in 2016, Anh Jiyoung and Woo Jiyoon, but Jiyoon left the duo in the spring of 2020 due to concerns about her career, leaving Jiyoung as a soloist still under the name Bol4. I think that their songs are so cute and soft, and I feel as though I am surrounded by soft plush and all things nice when Jiyoung’s honey-voice melts all around me and Jiyoon’s soft guitar fills the space. They have a lot of songs that I really enjoy listening to, some of which being: “Galaxy” (Red Planet), “To My Youth” (Red Diary Page. 1), “Tell Me You Love Me” (Red Planet), and “Stars Over Me” (Puberty Book I), as well as a lot of others that I haven’t mentioned. Some miscellaneous songs that I really love and wanted to mention are: “Don’t Wanna Cry” by Seventeen, “Make It Right” by BTS, “Psycho” by Red Velvet, “Oxygen” by Twice, and “Hip” by Mamamoo, all with different vibes but nonetheless with a reserved spot in my heart. There are, of course, hundreds (and I mean hundreds) of other songs that I adore that sadly can’t be mentioned right now because it would take up pages, but there are many more songs that you can find just on YouTube, Spotify, Apple Music, and other streaming platforms to find what you like and how many songs you will find yourself falling in love with. These streaming services have really helped me find music to listen to, and they will suggest songs to you based on what you like and listen to. The internet has opened a world of music that just about anyone can have access to, giving people the opportunity to find and listen to music they love.

A big part of finding music you like and being comfortable with your music is the community you share it with. Whether it is just a few friends or your whole family or even just the people in the comments section of the YouTube video you’re watching, the community that comes with music is crucial. Feeling that sense of belonging and acceptance is part of listening to music, even if no one you actually know listens to the kind of music you do, and this is such a large part of how you feel about music and how you feel when you listen to music. The feeling of home your favorite song or artist gives you is unmistakably comforting, and it is a feeling we want in our lives all the time, which is why we listen to music. And the same can go for being with people you like when you listen to music. You can be listening to songs you really hate and still be having lots of fun if you are with people you like. Listening to music with friends, even if you don’t like the music, is something that is enjoyable. Music is something that can unite the world and bring those listening onto the same wavelength, even for just a moment.

Music is an invisible, but not inaudible, part of life that shapes our memories, emotions, and relationships with others. Finding your own preference of music can be difficult at times, but the options are endless and somehow in the midst of everything else in the media and on your phone, you can find something you like. You don’t need to go hunting for music or an artist in search of music to listen to. Be open-minded and ready to try listening to music you may not be familiar with as it might be something you really vibe with. Get suggestions from your friends, what is popular, or what is on your Recommended. Look up random artists you see online or expose yourself to many different artists and genres. Finding music you really love can take time, and there is no need to rush. Preferences can change, so playlists can change too. My friends are the ones who introduced me to much of the music I like, and some of my friends became my friends because I liked the same music as them. The music world is ever-changing, so go explore what is out there. It may just change your life.

The Terror

One day, a terror was arising in the city of Flow. The city was being attacked by bandits. The bandits took control of the food and the water supply and tripled the cost so people had to pay more for water and food than usual. 

Le said as he sat on his couch practicing his speech to the world in sign language, “Hi, my name is Le. I have been living in the city all my life. The city is my home. I am very disappointed whenever the city is in trouble like now. It is a troubling time, and they need a hero, and they have one — everyone, give it up for Super Le! 

“Okay, that’s not going to work, I need to be the best hero.

“Oh, by the way, I can see through walls and I have one of the best superpowers ever in my opinion — I have telekinesis, the power of fire and the best appearances on camera. I need to be the next superman — oh, I got it! I know my superhero name is Le Pow. So far, I have a butler and my dad’s rich because of me. I saved the mayor and everyone important in the city from dying from a bomb. I’ve known my job is to try and save the city from this terror. I’m going to try to fulfill my dream and be a hero to my city.” 

He walked outside. Le was a joke person and he liked to joke around and sometimes at the wrong time. While Le was outside, he saw his guy, Sammy. He called Sammy and came over and Sammy said, “I can’t talk now, my mom is expecting me home.”

“What, you’re never home early! When did that change? I feel like you’re lying.”

“I would never lie.”

“Let me see the text that says so.” 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

 Le had enough. He raised the phone up with his telekinesis and saw a message that said, “Meet you at Bob’s at 10:00 for the party.”

 “You’re going to a party! So you lied! Now I’ve had enough! Let’s fight!”

 Sam said, “Okay, let’s go.”

 Le said, “Just kidding. I wanna come.”

But by that time Sam was mad and he was running full speed at Le. Le went flying. See what I mean? Le is a jokester at the wrong time. He walked away bruised up, went upstairs, got cleaned up, and looked for crime to fight. 

Suddenly, he bumped into his brother — a bandit! He said, “Why did you turn on us? Why?” 

His brother just walked away, saying it was for the best no one liked Le. Le changed then his assistant drove him around the city when he saw bandits robbing a store and he got out and lifted them all up then threw them against the wall. He got the bags of jewelry and he hand-signed his assistant to say the thing and he said, “Looks like you had trouble shopping. Good thing I was here to help you.”

They went home but they got stopped by a press conference and his assistant said, “We’re only taking 5 questions.”

“What were you thinking going up against 5 bandits?” 

“We thought we were doing the city a favor and doing that is one step in the right direction.”

“When are you going to fix the city of the bandits?”

“We will do the best with maintaining the little stores, next we are going to try and take the water supplies back.”

So then he said that the bandits had control over the radios and that Le would not be doing that because he was a threat to the new community.

“I will have to take force.”

Two choppers pulled up and started shooting and almost hit Le when he used his telekinesis to bring the chopper down and he set it on fire. They hopped out. He lifted them up and went full rage mode and tried to speak but he could not. He then realized why he couldn’t speak —  he was afraid of things he might say wrong. He tried speaking again but it did not work so he too threw the bandits out of town but there were still hundreds of bandits to fight.

He went home and saw on the news it said, “We may have a cure for these sickening bandits then: TINY. Tiny is a small person, about 5”5, and has the power to make explosions with his mind. He is a heartless person that only likes to conquer cities. He is white and his henchmen carry him. He has about five cities under his control and is bald. Tiny took over the city.”

Tiny came on and said, “Le, if you’re out there, you don’t have a voice so just back down. You can’t speak so just save yourself from a lot of hospital bills and suffering and surrender this city by this time.”
He could hear everyone in the city going crazy, seeing if their savior was going to back down. He said, “No,” and his assistant said,

“Hello, is someone there? Le, get here now, we need to leave here.

Le said, “You leave, I’ll stay here and blow them up. I’m getting angry.”

His assistant said, “Did you just speak or did I imagine that or was that actually you, sir?”

“It’s me.”

“Le, you can speak now, but how?”

“Just get out of here. Meet you at the warehouse, send me the addi.”

The bandits came bursting through the doors as Tiny came with two henchmen and he made everything explode near him and Le was trapped. Le said, “Flamio, hot men!” then jumped out the window and used his fire to push him up and tear the place apart and kill 30 of Tiny’s henchmen. 

Tiny jumped off the window and rolled onto an airship and yelled, “I’ll get you one day.” 

Le was on his way home when he started to get dizzy and his head was hurting then he realized he had metal from the explosion in his body that was slowing him down. I think the whole purpose of the attack was to poison me but how did they poison me with metal? Yes, I guess every superhero has weaknesses so this is my weakness. With that, he passed out. A few hours later, he woke up to Bob, his assistant, bending down to see if he was still alive. 

Bob then gave Le water and Le took a bath and went to his map of the city. It was showing a bunch of criminal activity near the bay. He dressed up and his assistant drove him over and he got out and he made a big firebomb and blew up the bay and the bandits were not there, it was just a big explosive that went booooooom and obliterated the whole bay. He was kinda sad but he remembered that he blew up the bandits’ supply — their weapons and their food money. 

Le went home and saw there were more evil warehouses but these had people. He got excited because this was his first good jump, and if he got lucky, he could take down Tiny and he could take back the city so he would be the famous hero that took down Tiny the conqueror of cities. 

He jumped into his suit and told his butler aka assistant to drive him to Hartfield Park and bring the bombs. When they got there, they saw that there was no base there but they heard yelling and machines. He thought maybe they could be underground. I don’t see them here or above me, the only other choice is underground. So he tore the field open with his telekinesis and found an elevator and he hopped on top of the elevator so he would not be seen and let it go down and saw this was their headquarters. Tiny had to be here so Le mad a fireball and blew up the base, making it impossible to escape, and searched for Tiny. When he found Tiny, he was climbing up the elevator cord escaping and the elevator cord was about to snap.

Le yelled, “Tiny, come down, you’re going to fall and hurt yourself!”

But Tiny did not listen. Then the cord snapped and he fell 50 feet. He was about to hit the ground when Le had a moment and he caught Tiny, and in a swift moment, put him in a headlock and made him promise to never do any form of evil as long as he lived. Le put him in handcuffs then Le said, “Tell your men to stand down. You’ve lost.”

A few months later, Le had the whole city number so with one call, they got saved. Le was on a vacation with his new family, his wife, his kids, and they had a great time at Disney and a hotel off the beach. At Disney, they were going on rides and met the infamous Mickey Mouse. 

THE END

Uncovered

Chapter 7

School goes on like this for another month. A pair of monstrous Mr. Sulskys, a jolly-like Mr. Smith, and overboard excitement from Mrs. Watkins. The school days drag on, and I find myself behaving like a white person. Jeremy and Matthew are always with me on the bus ride to school and during lunch. So far, they are still my only friends. And I have learned the school better. Apparently, the boys on my basketball team from gym class are known as the bullies in the grade. Of course, they aren’t very bright. In fact, I wouldn’t be surprised if they were failing every subject in school. My mind is always wandering during class, thinking about what I’ve been through. I’m technically a normal kid, albeit a kid who is undercover in a white school under the penalty of severe prison time or even death. 

The Mr. Sulskys are very obnoxious. First of all, though they teach different subjects, they act like the same person. Boring, gray, and unenthusiastic. I’ve managed to withstand a solid B in English, yet a healthy A in history. (But then again, an A in history is probably the equivalent of a B in English.) Many of my fellow students have been unlucky. Jeremy makes no secret of his distaste for school, barely managing C’s in every subject. (Except gym, of course, where he has an amazing A+, due to his baseball skills.) I’m sitting at my wooden desk in English class, daydreaming, while Mr. Sulsky is giving a lecture about “the great and influential poets of the twentieth century” when he says something that catches my ears. 

“There will be a poetry contest for this month,” he is saying, and I hear the tiniest sliver of excitement in his voice. “It will last for two weeks, starting from today to October 17th,” he continues.

I look at the other kids. They seem to be extremely bored, while I seem to be the only one excited. 

“The poem may be about anything, except for violence, vulgar language, and inappropriate content.”

This provokes some vulgar language and inappropriate content.

“That is all. Now have a good day,” Mr. Sulsky says, and a second later, the bell rings. The students scatter out of the classroom, while I’m the only kid in the class who pauses to look at the competition details. As I head to History class, I wonder what I should write about for my poem.

I spend the next two weeks writing my poem. I try to think of something happy, as I’m a person who has infiltrated a school, posing as a person who I’m now and surrounded by people who would happily arrest me or worse if they found out who I really was.

In the end, I write the standard happy poem about spring.

I write about all the happy stuff (which wouldn’t be that interesting for my fellow students, but very interesting for the teachers). 

The day before the poem is due is October 16, the Friday before the weekend. In first period English, I hand in my paper to the basket marked “Poems” (which is empty besides my poem). A few students also hand in poems, but they’re all grumbling that their mothers forced them to. 

At the end of the day, when I return to Mr. Sulsky’s class, the basket is barely full, not even a quarter full. As I walk out of the classroom, I hope for good luck and that I win.

On Monday when we return to school, I decide to go to school a few minutes early to see if I won the competition. I enter English class to see a bored-looking Mr. Sulsky glancing at the poems and sipping coffee from a mug that says, “World’s best English teacher.” 

“Ah, Noah,” he says, looking up from his desk even though he couldn’t possibly see me since his back is turned to me. “I wanted to have a little chat with you. It concerns the poem that you wrote for the poem competition.”

“And?” I ask nervously.

“You won,” Mr. Sulsky finishes, with the tone of someone who just had a good breakfast. “Nicely done.” He turns to face me. There’s a trace of a smile on his face.

“I very much enjoyed your poem,” he continues. “In fact, it’s probably one of the best poems one of my students has ever written.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say happily.

“I think I should call your parents and let them know what a nice poem you’ve written.” The smile on his face grows bigger, and it’s the first trace of emotion I’ve seen from him in the last month. 

“Thank you, sir,” I repeat, though I don’t mean it. If Mr. Sulsky looks into the address book, he won’t find my address, as we aren’t in the white community. I force myself to paste on a happy smile, which more looks like a crooked line. Mr. Sulsky seems to not sense it.

“Ok, then,” he says. He lugs out a thick, white, ancient book from out of his desk. It’s coated with dust. Hasn’t been used in a while. He plops it on his desk, which results in a loud slam! He flips through a few pages until he reaches the BE section. Then the BEC. Finally, he narrows it down to the BECKET section. There are only two names. James and Martha Becket, a couple.

He takes out his phone and dials the number besides the names, then calls. I hear the ringing of the phone as he calls. Then I hear the obnoxious beep! as the call is received.

“Hello?” The person on the other end asks.

“Hello, sir.” Mr. Sulsky says. “Are you the Beckets?”

“Yes, we are,” the man replies. “May I ask who you are?”

“I am Fred Sulsky, the teacher at Winters Academy.”

“All right,” the man says. “May I also ask why you are calling?”

“Yes,” Mr. Sulsky states. “It concerns your son, Noah. He’s recently done quite an astounding — ” 

“What?” the man asks, confused. “We don’t have a son named Noah, and he doesn’t go to this school. Have you got the wrong number?”

“I don’t think so,” Mr. Sulsky says, looking a bit suspicious of me now. “Is this 662-693-0492? Becket residence?”

“Yes, it is,” Mr. Becket says. “But we don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“All right, then. I’m terribly sorry for interrupting your day. Please do forgive me.”

“Apology accepted,” Mr. Becket says. “Just be careful about who you call.”

I hear the faint click as the call ends.

Mr. Sulsky looks at me, trying to figure out what’s going on. He thinks for a few moments, and then the spark of realization hits him, dead-on. Even though I’m not a mind-reader, I know what he’s thinking.  He eyes my skin suspiciously, trying to make sense of it. His confused expression goes to a face full of understanding. And then he begins speaking.

Mr. Sulsky looks up from the address book, stunned. His eyes are as big as dinner plates. Then the stunned look on his face quickly turns into a crocodile grin. “Well, well, well,” he snarls devilishly, looking at me the way a lion looks at a baby antelope. Then he cocks back his head like a werewolf and yells, “Hey! This kid’s a — “

Only he doesn’t get to finish the sentence, because I stomp on Mr. Sulsky’s foot and bolt out of the room. 

As I emerge from the hallway, I see puzzled students and teachers approaching me. Though that quickly turns to excitement from the students and panic from the teachers as Mr. Sulsky shouts some words that kids shouldn’t hear. The students hurry to Mr. Sulsky’s room, wanting to see what caused such language. I take advantage of the opportunity and dash towards the stairs, where more students are coming. 

Mr. Sulsky seems to have recovered from the pain of my toe stomp, and he rushes out of the classroom, determined to pound me to pieces. He steps into the hallway, only to be flattened by a mob of students. He screams as a kid steps onto his toes again and then howls as a kid flattens him like a bulldozer on a human pancake. Mr. Sulsky screams again, but I don’t know if it’s out of rage or pain or fear of being run over again. Luck finally seems to be on my side, and I’m just about to emerge when the worst thing imaginable happens. The other Mr. Sulsky is there, hustling through the door with a mug of coffee, which says, “Best Science teacher ever.” He looks up, startled to see me, then his eyes go wide with fear as I bowl over him, scrambling to get to the front door. He screams as the hot black liquid splatters onto him like a caffeine shower. Mr. Sulsky bolts to the bathroom for paper towels (in his haste, he accidentally enters the wrong one, which results in a shriek by the girl inside the bathroom). 

Meanwhile, I’m out of the front door, and the fresh, cold, air hits me like a car. Some school buses are still departing the last students, while some are empty because the drivers needed to take a bathroom break. Without knowing what I’m thinking (or even thinking at all), I leap into an empty bus, commandeer it, step on the gas pedal, 

and drive out of school.

Up until then, I’ve never driven a bus before. Not even a car or any type of vehicle. (Unless you count the rusty, old tractor my grandfather used to own and I drove it for fun on his farm, but even then he didn’t let me drive for fear of headplanting into the barn.) But I figured I could make an exception this time.

I try to head toward home because it’s practically the only area in the city where I’ll be safe. Fortunately, the bus route is pretty simple. I just have to follow the road I’m on and stop left and right occasionally. In the distance, I can hear police sirens roaring at me. I look back to see that they are only a block away from me. I return my attention to the bus, only to find that while I was distracted, I must’ve hit a switch that turned off the steering wheel! Fear suddenly grips me like a terrible nightmare. I can now feel the police cars bumping into the bus. One exceptionally aggressive police officer tries to slam me into pieces. Startled by the hit, I accidentally bump another switch that breaks the steering wheel! Now, I can only go straight. Up ahead, I can see the dot of my house. I’m relieved to see home, but it instantly changes to terror as I realize the river that leads to a waterfall is right ahead as well. The policemen also share my thoughts. I can practically hear the cars screech in terror as they slam onto the brakes. At least they’re safe, but I’m not.

The river grows bigger and bigger as I get closer to my doom. My mind rallies through everything I know about escaping a car that’s about to plunge into a waterfall. Not surprisingly, I barely know anything about the subject. Most spies would’ve had this sort of situation everyday, suavely jumping out and landing into the water. But I wasn’t a spy. My entire espionage experience was watching James Bond movies at Matthew’s house and reenacting scenes on the playground during recess. (At which Jeremy commented that I looked like a frog skydiving.) So when the bus hits the water, I leap out of it like a skydiver. The bus plunges into the water and a gust of water explodes out of the wide river, like a death charge. I doggy paddle toward the shore, also known as my backyard, also known as a patch of weed-infested grass with cheap furniture scattered around like a tornado had organized it. 

With a grunt, I grab onto the yard, leap over the fence (so flimsy a cat could’ve knocked it over), and rush to the back door where my parents are looking at the chaos, aghast. The police cars screech to a halt, inches away from the raging river, where the remnants of the bus are flaming like it’s trying to set the river on fire.

Dead meat.