by Jong hoon Kim


A machine copies the construction of all the atoms that compose my body, and transfers the data of yottabytes to another machine in Connecticut. After the successful relocation, an electronic rod dissipates the constituents of my original body. Without a single change of an element, I stand in Connecticut. I even contain the same memory. Suddenly, I take a taxi to a strangely delicate park where people are swimming in an enormous, exquisitely violet bathtub. The tub looks like a giant kangaroo who kneels down, scattering water from the mouth on the top of the long neck. Other people sip cups of coffee on the live horses of a merry-go-around. Then, a sound wave penetrates my body, leaving an extremely thin line of 1 nanometer in the body. Fortunately, I'm still alive, but soon divided into two pieces, one becoming a tadpole and the other Waldo in "Where's Waldo Now?" Afterward, the two pieces of my body undergo further meiosis, resulting in the materialization of my nicknames: tadpole, pineapple, paole, James Watson, Waldo, walson, KMLAdison, CIA agent, strangeye, early device adopter, art soccer(taekwon soccer), Hong Myungbo, buying agent, Chemla, kimpossible. Certainly, my friends have called me more by nicknames than by real names, and I have the most numerous appelations in school. I become amorphous, and all my identities except for myself appeared. The tadpole plunges into the half-cut pineapple while the CIA agent lights a cigarette made of vitamin D and kimpossible is trying to locate Waldo. And KMLAdison, Edison in KMLA, begins to converse with Leonardo da Vinci, discussing their blueprints for numerous inventions. Appalled at the totally illogical events, I escape from the scenario; yes, I was daydreaming.

I find myself sitting on a toilet bowl, with my hands on my PDA keyboard. In the real world, such a weird conjunction of thoughts exists nowhere, but now here in my fantasy which I know how to manipulate. I see the intricate patterns of the toilet's wall from which I escaped. In the meaningless patterns, I detect vague shapes of animals, people, movie scenes, and cartoon characters. Unconsciously -- or, without time to be conscious --, I lapse into the dreaming again. This time, I am KMLAdison who arrives at the invention laboratory. Surrounded by PDAs and speakers I so cherishedly want to purchase in the real world, I nibble a pudding filled with oxygen and vitamins. Then, I compose a vitamin-enriched tobacco. I work on drawing a blueprint for another invention. I manufacture a rolling backpack to which a folding chair-cum-rolling board is attached. I test this device by folding the board, but it fails to operate well; the chair dangles once I sit because there is no connecting support between the board and the backpack. Hence, I add a ratchet to connect them, and the invention works well afterward. In this imaginary and imaginative lab, I make any complicated inventions. I try this invented bag on the Great Wall of China; I unfold the rolling board from the bag, and ride on it to slide down the floor.

Ddock, Ddock! my roommate knocks the door. Suddenly, all these images are distorted into clear fonts on the LCD. And I still sit in the toilet bowl, looking vacantly at the wall. Yes, I have been daydreaming again; if I can take a picture of my dreaming, I will certainly become a surrealistic artist. Whenever I have a moment of inactivity, I fall into the abyss of dreaming, which I dissipate startled by the irrational connection of events or by the sudden intervention of reality. In the fanciful fantasy, things which I cognizantly "tamed" and connected by logical webs expand, severing and reorganizing the network system into an exuberant spectacle. Namely, in the entangled, seemingly irrelevant sequence of images, I connect several separate agents, a behavior which I call connecticut, meaning "connect it (which is) cut." And it is this fantasy that allows me to manufacture inventions, test them, travel to foreign countries, meet famous people, or play a role of a cartoon character. After briefly shaking my head to return my wandering mind to my body, I continue writing the application essay. Certainly, as a sophomore, I suffer more from lapsing into day-dreaming.

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