Amir, the main protagonist of my book, The Kite Runner, seemed like a very immature little kid to me. He was friends with his Hazara servant, Hassan, yet he refused to even be seen with him when his father's friends were over. Amir also deeply resents Hassan because Amir's father treated Hassan like another son; Amir wanted his father's love all for himself. I don't think Amir truly considered Hassan a friend, since he would only spend time with Hassan when nobody else was around. Amir also tormented Hassan at times, taking advantage of Hassan's illiteracy by teaching him the false meaning of words. And as well, Amir was extremely proud of his father's achievements; he spoke of them often, and usually in a slightly awed tone of voice, with just a slight hint of arrogance which, to me, seems like gloating. In my opinion, Amir seems quite selfish and perhaps just a little bit shallow. I think that Amir is definitely a relatable character; there are probably a lot more people in this world who are just like him, selfish and just slightly shallow. Amir's character seems real enough too; he behaves like most twelve year olds do. They care only about what they themselves get and forget everyone around them unless it happens to impact them directly. Twelve year olds also tend to be immature, a little bit shallow, and love to gloat, exaggerate, and lie. There is one thing I find quite interesting though, and that is the fact that Amir, unlike a lot of twelve year olds, loves to read, particularly poetry; most children of his age just want to run around and play. I don't think Amir is very sympathetic, perhaps to those who are around him everyday, but definitely not to those who he either does not know, or does not know well. And I definitely feel no sympathy for him. A lot of his actions tend to be selfish, and the consequences he later suffers are, quite honestly, much deserved. With that said, Amir, for me, is definitely a likeable character, mainly because he reminded me of myself when I was his age. Although I dare say that I wasn't as shallow as he is, I was definitely quite selfish, and needless to say, I was incredibly immature. Nevertheless, Amir is a very interesting character to read about, especially as he starts to uncover the truth about his and his Baba's lives and escapes the Russian invasion of Afghanistan
Thursday, September 30, 2010
Friday, September 17, 2010
The Not-So-Uncertain Future
When most people think of a typical teenager, they picture a burly sixteen-year old boy to whom the purpose of life is to chase after girls, and to whom planning ahead means wondering that the next show is going to be. This is not true, or at least not for me. I guess you can call me eccentric, or perhaps many teenagers do this, but I do actually take my future into consideration, at least when it comes to school. Deciding what you want to be when you graduate, however, can be tough. So many things must be taken into consideration, the salary, your interests, job availability, and the stability of the job. These problems are often further complicated by parents, who usually wish for their child to select a high paying career. But these things can easily be overcome; the toughest part comes when you are torn between two completely different career paths. Not so long ago, I was faced with this challenge.
I had just turned sixteen, and was half-way through completing my grade ten year at Steveston-London Secondary School. It was lunch and I was playing cards with my friends when, out of nowhere, one of them brought up the subject of our future; what we wanted and dreamed to be.
I don't remember what they said anymore, but I do remember fading out of the conversation; the voices dimmed, the images blurred, and my mind stepped though a portal. It felt like a dream. I was suddenly looking at a forty year old version of myself; I had on a pale white lab coat, and all around me were rows upon rows of fish tanks. In them dwelled a large assortment of sea creatures: fiery red clownfishes, majestic purple corals, golden yellow sea horses, ghostly white jellies, and much, much more.
Suddenly, the noise returned, the images focused, and I was snapped back to reality. My friends had become impatient because it was my turn to play a card, but I didn't care; the game of Big Two was the last thing on my mind. I smiled to myself. I don't know why, but from the moment I was born, I was in love with the sea, this world of violent serenity, a place where almost every creature meets a violent death, yet at the same time, a place that is so beautiful, so peaceful, so calming.
Unfortunately, this is where the dream ends, and the nightmare begins. I have two fish tanks of my own at home; they bring me joy when I'm sad, and calm me down when I'm angry. I told my parents of my dream, that I wanted to be a marine biologist. In fact, I reminded them of this constantly. But my parents were very traditional, and very conservative. They were born and raised in China. To them, success meant getting straight A's in school, graduating from university, and finding a high paying job.
My dad, before we came to Canada, was a well respected lawyer. He was familiar with the legal system, and knew the benefits and prestige that came with being a good lawyer. Needless to say, he wanted me to become a lawyer as well, but I said no. After months of trying to convince them that marine biology is better for me, and several arguments, often with both parents yelling at me, I finally put my foot down. I told them that I wanted to be a marine biologist, and that if they were not okay with that, then they can find themselves another son.
I thought, at the time, that the matter was settled and that I had won, but I was wrong. The problem arose one day, several months later, when I was at home alone and bored out of my mind. I decided to search up a few random topics on my laptop. I was not pleased with what I found; as it turns out, a marine biologist makes very little money; most marine biologists make about fifty thousand dollars a year. This price also fluctuates greatly, as most of the money comes from government funding, and during times when funds are low, the science department is one of the first to receive budget cuts. A lawyer, on the other hand, makes hundred of thousands of dollars a year, and never has to worry about budget cuts. There was also the difference in the work load. Marine biologists often spend months in the middle of nowhere, isolated and alone, and for hours on end, often carrying on well into the night. While most lawyers work from the comfort of their home or office, and usually for a few hours a day.
At that point, I realized something; marine biology may be my passion, but it is probably not the best career path for me to take. The worst part of this was, perhaps, the realization that my parents were right; I hated being wrong, worst of all, I hated being certain about something, and then be proven otherwise. On that day, something changed. I no longer felt the same about marine biology; I still loved it, but that burning bonfire had died down to a small ember, its once sky high flames now nothing but pieces of smouldering wood.
I was torn; it was like someone had sliced me in half with a machete, the sharp blade tearing through my flesh, the cold blade cleanly slicing muscle, severing nerves, crushing bones. I felt like I didn't know anything anymore. And at night, I would often lie in bed, wide awake, gazing emptily at the ceiling, wondering just how my future would turn out.
This continued for weeks. At night, I would often have the same dream; I dreamed that I was forty again, but instead being a well respected scientist, I was a filthy beggar living in a homeless shelter. I had nothing, no money no fortune, no fame, and worst of all, no knowledge, and no passion. I'd often wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. The lack of sleep made me cranky, and a lot more impatient.
And then, one day, as I was heading to class, I passed by the counselling office. I decided to drop in and have a quick chat with my counsellor. We talked for a bit; I told him about my little dilemma, and he told me that, in order to get into law school, I must first spend four years as an undergrad. These words were like a cool gust of wind, blowing though the embers and bringing much needed oxygen to the dying fire. Almost at once, the tiny pile of smouldering ashes was once again a towering inferno.
I thanked my counsellor and went to class, but math was the last thing on my mind. My mind was made up; I'd spend a few years studying marine biology as an undergrad, and later an intern, seeing how I like being a marine biologist. As I have four years to choose, I can always switch to law if I do not like having marine biology as my profession.
That night, as I lay in bed, I thought to myself. I felt strange; this was one of the toughest decisions I've had to make so far, one of the toughest obstacles for me so far in my life, and it was against myself. This time, unlike all the rest, there wasn't a real opponent, at least not physically. There was no person to defeat, no mountain to conquer, and no elusive item to hunt for. This time, there was really only myself; I guess, sometimes, I really am my own worst enemy.
I had just turned sixteen, and was half-way through completing my grade ten year at Steveston-London Secondary School. It was lunch and I was playing cards with my friends when, out of nowhere, one of them brought up the subject of our future; what we wanted and dreamed to be.
I don't remember what they said anymore, but I do remember fading out of the conversation; the voices dimmed, the images blurred, and my mind stepped though a portal. It felt like a dream. I was suddenly looking at a forty year old version of myself; I had on a pale white lab coat, and all around me were rows upon rows of fish tanks. In them dwelled a large assortment of sea creatures: fiery red clownfishes, majestic purple corals, golden yellow sea horses, ghostly white jellies, and much, much more.
Suddenly, the noise returned, the images focused, and I was snapped back to reality. My friends had become impatient because it was my turn to play a card, but I didn't care; the game of Big Two was the last thing on my mind. I smiled to myself. I don't know why, but from the moment I was born, I was in love with the sea, this world of violent serenity, a place where almost every creature meets a violent death, yet at the same time, a place that is so beautiful, so peaceful, so calming.
Unfortunately, this is where the dream ends, and the nightmare begins. I have two fish tanks of my own at home; they bring me joy when I'm sad, and calm me down when I'm angry. I told my parents of my dream, that I wanted to be a marine biologist. In fact, I reminded them of this constantly. But my parents were very traditional, and very conservative. They were born and raised in China. To them, success meant getting straight A's in school, graduating from university, and finding a high paying job.
My dad, before we came to Canada, was a well respected lawyer. He was familiar with the legal system, and knew the benefits and prestige that came with being a good lawyer. Needless to say, he wanted me to become a lawyer as well, but I said no. After months of trying to convince them that marine biology is better for me, and several arguments, often with both parents yelling at me, I finally put my foot down. I told them that I wanted to be a marine biologist, and that if they were not okay with that, then they can find themselves another son.
I thought, at the time, that the matter was settled and that I had won, but I was wrong. The problem arose one day, several months later, when I was at home alone and bored out of my mind. I decided to search up a few random topics on my laptop. I was not pleased with what I found; as it turns out, a marine biologist makes very little money; most marine biologists make about fifty thousand dollars a year. This price also fluctuates greatly, as most of the money comes from government funding, and during times when funds are low, the science department is one of the first to receive budget cuts. A lawyer, on the other hand, makes hundred of thousands of dollars a year, and never has to worry about budget cuts. There was also the difference in the work load. Marine biologists often spend months in the middle of nowhere, isolated and alone, and for hours on end, often carrying on well into the night. While most lawyers work from the comfort of their home or office, and usually for a few hours a day.
At that point, I realized something; marine biology may be my passion, but it is probably not the best career path for me to take. The worst part of this was, perhaps, the realization that my parents were right; I hated being wrong, worst of all, I hated being certain about something, and then be proven otherwise. On that day, something changed. I no longer felt the same about marine biology; I still loved it, but that burning bonfire had died down to a small ember, its once sky high flames now nothing but pieces of smouldering wood.
I was torn; it was like someone had sliced me in half with a machete, the sharp blade tearing through my flesh, the cold blade cleanly slicing muscle, severing nerves, crushing bones. I felt like I didn't know anything anymore. And at night, I would often lie in bed, wide awake, gazing emptily at the ceiling, wondering just how my future would turn out.
This continued for weeks. At night, I would often have the same dream; I dreamed that I was forty again, but instead being a well respected scientist, I was a filthy beggar living in a homeless shelter. I had nothing, no money no fortune, no fame, and worst of all, no knowledge, and no passion. I'd often wake up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night. The lack of sleep made me cranky, and a lot more impatient.
And then, one day, as I was heading to class, I passed by the counselling office. I decided to drop in and have a quick chat with my counsellor. We talked for a bit; I told him about my little dilemma, and he told me that, in order to get into law school, I must first spend four years as an undergrad. These words were like a cool gust of wind, blowing though the embers and bringing much needed oxygen to the dying fire. Almost at once, the tiny pile of smouldering ashes was once again a towering inferno.
I thanked my counsellor and went to class, but math was the last thing on my mind. My mind was made up; I'd spend a few years studying marine biology as an undergrad, and later an intern, seeing how I like being a marine biologist. As I have four years to choose, I can always switch to law if I do not like having marine biology as my profession.
That night, as I lay in bed, I thought to myself. I felt strange; this was one of the toughest decisions I've had to make so far, one of the toughest obstacles for me so far in my life, and it was against myself. This time, unlike all the rest, there wasn't a real opponent, at least not physically. There was no person to defeat, no mountain to conquer, and no elusive item to hunt for. This time, there was really only myself; I guess, sometimes, I really am my own worst enemy.
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