A Song

Some songs do more than get stuck in my head. They seep into my memory until they become a part of my mental picture. The lyrics taste like the memories- the fervor of the sports competition my class cheered for in middle school, the shriek of my best friend on her surprise birthday party, tears welling up in my eyes after failing an exam…

Like a kid lying on her back picking her favorite cloud in the sky, I scoop one song from my fishbowl of memories.

I hum along to the melody and then I stop with a jerk.

I remember that the singer, a member of a popular boy band anyone my age would sing along to, owned a club that drugged and assaulted women.

A Sound

It makes me feel even more self-conscious, as if I need more awkwardness in my life.

In English the onomatopoeia for the camera-sound is “click,” although I’m pretty sure the sound is far more obnoxious. It’s especially irritating when I come across something in a museum that I want to photograph and the camera on my phone makes the loudest sound possible, tearing up the peaceful ripple of voices talking courteously in a low voice.

My roommate says she’ll buy a new phone while she’s in the U.S.

It’s unfair that only Korea and Japan forces phones to make clicking sounds. I know, they’re there to prevent illegal photographing. But it’s not like I take them, right?

A Secret

I was obsessed with secrets as a twelve-year-old. Perhaps because puberty struck me pretty early and I did not know how to deal with stuff happening to my body. Partly because I was beginning to resent “adults” for the first time and wanted to feel like a deviant. Hence began my treasure box of secrets- diaries with tiny locks on them, pens that need a special flashlight to see the ink, texts with my best friend that I would never dare let my parents read… and even googling the word “secret.” This directed me to a flashy article- “My Deepest Secrets Revealed? Gasp!”

I clicked on this article about Miss B, who recently broke up with her boyfriend. When she asked why, he sent her a link. The link was connected to a porn site with Miss B’s video that barely blurred out her face. The article described the video as “embarrassing” and I was too little to know the euphemism. But I thought the article was pretty useless- what am I supposed to take away from this? Be scared that this could happen to me?

It was the first article I read about revenge porn. I did not tell my parents about it.

Working notes: Similar to “To Be in a Time of War,” I wanted to convey how social problems permeate into everyday life. I tried to start from specific, mundane details and connect them to the problem I wanted to address. I wonder if the three paragraphs were formed too similarly, but I think this best portrays how I am continuously reminded of digital sexual assault that is prevalent in our society, even when I am doing something completely irrelevant in my life.