Yejin (Emily) Jung

It is only natural that I chose English as my major in college. Ever since I was but a baby, my parents would open up picture books for my eyes to gaze at, and by the time I was old enough to listen, but too young to actually read myself, my parents would read to me from storybooks. Thus, they fostered a love of the written word inside me, and I devoured all sort of books I could get my hands on. There was something magical about words--those simple, neatly-spaced black letters arranged in an organized rectangular format on the sheet of white--that could lift me out of my room, the library, or wherever I was reading, and allow me to venture different lands, real and fictional. The very thought was exhilarating; I could travel, explore, and discover new places and meet new people without having to budge from my own bed or chair. The protagonists' happiness was my happiness and their sorrow was also my own. Words were capable of stirring both my heart and mind. This, then, inspired me to write. My childlike works varied in genres from short-stories to poems; writing itself was more exciting than reading, actually, because I had the chance to express my thoughts and feelings, my version of the story. As I grew older and came into contact with required written works like essays and analyses, I was, unlike any of my classmates, thrilled. It was a great opportunity to take a stance and convey my opinion with a logical, persuasive argument. Even to this day, I love writing papers and English is, obviously, my favorite subject. Words were, and continue to be, the best, most appropriate medium for me to show who I am. Words are mine, and I am the words.