confessions of myself

Ever since I became aware of the world of college applications, I came to a state of mass confusion. Like the chaos theory I could feel the cells in my brains crisscross each other into incomprehensible tangles of thoughts with ends that surely lost themselves on their quest to tie together into a perfect ending. Random thoughts process through my head when my pupils roll over the directions that determine the composition of my essays that are meant to given the administrators a better understanding of myself. But the problem is: I have yet explored who I am myself.

I was fortunate enough not to have a required interview in which I would have to face my fears and answer every question that is hurled upon me and the significance of my existence. I see no reason to this question because I feel I am yet a developed person with substantial knowledge to describe the contributions I can make for a school. I hardly know myself, leaving transcripts to categorize me into slots of degrees of intellectual statuses which are used to choose students from across the globe into the “high-class education” that post-secondary schools so advertise to have. Though I have no clue as to what kind of person I am, one thing I know is that I am more than some sheets of paper with variations of letters and numbers.

The only college essays that lit up my face just at the sight of them are the essays that ask about the most common-life subjects. Like for instance: Please describe a daily routine or tradition of yours that may seem ordinary to others but holds special meaning for you. Why is this practice significant to you? How lovely is this question? No serious questioning or pressure to get to a conclusion to a question that may or not be answered even at the face if death.

Anyway, I just need a break from all these essays…

Just today, I watched Hillary Clinton’s speech of the Democratic National Convention. I actually liked her speech much better than the first presidential debate mostly because her primary concerns match that of my own. She announced herself as a firm supporter for women’s rights, which honestly I have a lack of knowledge to where the limits of the rights are until but how she built up her argument with the bits of history she managed to link coherently into the speech and the date of her speech (the day the 19th amendment was passed) made it all more interesting. She mentioned the Underground Railroad, an obvious connection with Harriet Tubman and the rights of both women and African Americans. She extended the use of that portion of history to say that Harriet Tubman had told the fleeing slaves “if you hear the dogs keep going, if you hear the torches in the woods keep going, if they are shouting after you keep going, don’t ever stop keep going, if you want a taste of freedom keep going”. This small anecdote of history that she used enlarged her point from the right of minorities to that “even in the darkest moments [...America will] keep going”. Her statement about the importance of the health system and education system really pricked up my ears for I know for a fact that America has one of the worst health care systems in the world and one of the most costly tuitions for college. If the Democratic party is so passionate about these factors who knows maybe they’ll earn some more votes.

But then, returning to the first presidential debate, proposals the two candidates had set out for the US financial crisis is almost the same. The only thing is that which one will the public chose and which one will prove to be more effective in a course of four years? Obama’s plan of lowering taxes of the middle class is nice in that the relieving the burden of tax from the middle class would increase consumption and eventually promote the upper class on the long run, increasing employment as well. McCain’s plan of helping the big businesses also makes sense in that big businesses support the rest of the economy and most importantly government support. His plan would promote more employment, more quickly which would lead to more consumption. The two plans are both right economically, and practically the same but in reverse-response order. It’s just like asking someone do you want the good news first or the bad news? In the end you get them both. This debate only led me to wonder which candidate would make their plans actually work in four years. Four years sound like a short period of time for their grandiose ideas…

http://abcnews.go.com/Politics/Conventions/popup?id=5653712

Blank

          Blank. My head is blank. I cannot write at all. “Writer’s block” people call it. It’s like the “wall” people say there is during a marathon. Those who fail to break through the wall feel their muscles give in as the ground comes closer to them. They fall to their knees, unable to complete the race and watching their dreams slip away like the many runners passes them. I stare at the blank piece of paper while my pencil continues to draw meaningless geometric shapes of frustration across the green lines. Then suddenly it comes to me, an idea. I scribble down the bits of pieces of ideas on the doodled lined paper in fear they would leave me in face the “block” once more. Then again, I stare at the phrases I wrote. They are lost pieces to a puzzle yet to be finished. Frustration. I close my eyes and yet my mind wanders off.

          Suddenly I see myself, seven years old staring at a piece of paper once more. This time it isn’t lined paper. It’s bigger. There are sets of crayons, colored pencils, paint tubes, paint brushes, markers, lined up by tone as if to create an artificial rainbow. There is a lady across the room pointing at a clock ticking away. I cannot see her face but something from the dusty cabinets of the back of my brain tells me she is my teacher. Although I cannot see it, I feel her persistent stare pierce through my own. Her invisible mouth moves too. She must be telling me that I have to do something. I look down at my blank piece of paper. It’s so big. I think I can make a tent with it. Around me kids of my age move about their arms like a constructor directing his orchestra through Beethoven’s “Virus”. I feel seven-year-old body starting to get up from my chair walking from my seat towards the back of the classroom. Then a light bulb slowly starts to flicker in my head. I pick up a pair of scissors and some 3M tape.

          Back at my desk I start to cut out a circle. My pair of scissors slides through from the edge of the circle to the center. Then I take some tape to complete my cone-shaped hat. The corners of my mouth roll up in satisfaction. I start painting my creation using no water of course, for I hated using water that had been already dyed with another color. My teacher comes up to me in horror. She must be asking me why I didn’t draw on the piece of paper in the way everyone else in doing (two-dimensional). I shrug and say that I couldn’t think of anything else. The teacher seems to disappear diminishing into a mere silhouette and then to some familiar piece of lined paper.

          I am back. Back looking down at that piece of lined paper. A strange but familiar aura sweeps over me as I pick up my pencil. I smile at the bursting energy growing inside myself waiting to be exposed into the blank piece of paper. I know what I am going to write about. And now, I’m done.

After giving up a precious Sunday afternoon, I headed to Dae-hak-ro to watch the play, Out of Order by Ray Cooney. I sort of slumped into my seat, which was a great seat fourth from the stage, center, thanks to Shawn who had bought the tickets. I never had really enjoyed any musical or play except school plays, which I think is hilarious. This play really changed my perspective of plays in general. It helped me to get out of that box, stereotype I had about plays, and actually feel time flash past like any good movie.

The play is basically about this high government official having an affair with one of his opponent party’s secretaries. He wishes to have a romantic evening, but soon sees his dream shattered to pieces as a hotel manager, room service waiter, his wife, the secretary’s husband, nurse, dead body, and his personal secretary crashes in the hotel room (the only set during the whole play). The evening turns out to be a living nightmare of lies, pursuit, and confession.

The first thing that came to my mind as I entered the theater was the setting of the play. The walls and interior of the room looked a bit fancy and colorful to be an ordinary house and since the Korean title of the play was Room Number 13, I quickly guessed the setting must be a hotel room. (I thought the number thirteen had some significance before I saw the play but it did not turn out to mean anything but bad luck.) In the middle of the room a little to the left, there was a green, roman-style couch, and a mini table with a fancy phone on top of it, which stood against the wall of the left side of the room. The phone only plays a small part of the plot: making more people get involved with the plot. However, the doors and the window of the room play a huge role of really getting the play rolling with action and laughter as we see the actors chase each other and manage to slip away from danger.

The actors were terrific; I really think there wouldn’t have been a bunch of better people to act the play with such energy and devotion. My personal favorites were the waiter and George, the main character’s personal secretary. The waiter is a character who really shows that he loves money. He eagerly comes in the room whenever he is called for or whenever he feels he needs to take a peek in the room, signs that he needs a tip and makes a mischievous smile before he politely closes the door behind him. He figures what is going on and really enjoys the sticky situation the government official, Richard has put himself in. On the other hand, George is reluctant to enter the room, due to his over-the-top worries of his sick mother and his nurse who keeps dialing the hotel room number. George ends up kissing Richard’s wife and his nurse to keep them from seeing the dead body, Richard, and Jane (the secretary Richard is having an affair with). He also ends up faking to be Richard in front of Jane’s furious husband, which turns out a bit messy.

One theme Cooney must have tried to show was the corruption within federal governments. Richard uses the hotel which is given to him as a place to rest after a long day of congress work is used as a place to have an affair with the secretary of his opponent party. He also shows off his money by giving excessive money to the waiter and ordering oysters with wine. He also pressures George to do immoral doings in order to cover up his own reputation. His wife’s questioning of whether there was a nice fight during the congress meeting also shows the “ugly-side” of politics.

Satire takes a large role in this play as one can easily see the satire of the upper class. Richard’s lavish use of money, improvising of false identities to his advantage, and method of cover up surely shows the tax of the public may be used on sources we would rather not know.

“Richard Cory” came to my mind the second I heard the name Richard during the play. The link is made naturally if one considers the name (obviously) and the fact that money and power gave the poor man nothing but doom. Sure, the poem “Richard Cory” doesn’t give us a real reason to why Richard died, but we still can make an assertion if we wish to. The play also does not give us a clear ending of whether or not Richard gets caught, but we till can infer that his life will not be the same as before.

This play is great for anyone over the age of fifteen, boy or girl, student or teacher who understands Korean. It definitely gives the audience a big laugh and makes everyone lean over the chair, unaware that someone else is sitting next to themselves doing the same. The cost of the ticket? Don’t ask, it’s worth it.

Seasons change.

As the pages of our calenders filp away, we see the greenness of summer fade away into crisp shades of red, orange, yellow, and brown. Just as naturally our shorts are rolled down into long jeans and our flip-flops are tossed into the far corners of the closet. We find autumn sweep over the restless city and ccover the last patches of summer.

Metamorphosis of the seasons are simple; they simply change their coats. What about us seniors, just face to face with the end of the sidewalk of secondary education? Easier said than done.

Sure, we are about to be chased around the hallways of our schools by counselors who seem at times more nervous than ourselves. Then we are loaded with assignments that overflow the capacity that our agendas can handle in their small, blue, daily boxes. During after-school activities we are greeted by naive underclassmen who machine-gun us with questions of which colleges we are applying to. Without hesitation, we always answer, “I’m not sure yet.” Like really. Except of course those more fortunate ones who are applying to one of those “prestigious colleges” that always plaster the top of US News‘s lists of colleges, that our parents get bubbly over, yet sigh and click the red ‘X’ of the internet browser when we ask what they are looking at. On the busride home, we close our eyes wishing the second semester would start when we lazily open our eyes to get up as the bus halts, five blocks away from home.

Home, sweet home. Not really so much of an asylum for a senior in high school. The irresistable smell of dinner takes the “studying appetite” away. Bon appetit brings dessert afterwards: a large scoop of ice cream and a dish of freshly sliced fruits. Drowsiness follows the first few steps of digestion as the body momentarily forgets the level of concern the whole world claims to have for the seniors (even though in reality it would spin about just fine as it successfully had for the dinosaurs). Mom comes to the doorway of the “drowning” senior’s room to whack the unconsciousness out of her. The senior wildly flutters her eyes open, pretending to be fascinated by the definition of “limits”, which of all things is the last thing she is concerned about. Mom catchs the sleepy eye of the carefree (just not to mention careless) senior and says in the most cloying voice, ” Why don’t you just try a few SAT problems if you can’t concentrate on calculus?”, taking out that despisable, thick, blue book from the bottom of the stack of work-to-do-later pile.

There, the perfectly miserable life of a senior.

I guess this is the bad thing about being on the top of ladder at school: the only thing you have left to do is topple down. Don’t worry about us though. We still do get a full page cover on the year book (it doesn’t matter which end our GPAs land on an educational spectrum, we still get that privilege). And college isn’t everything, that is until we get there. Life goes on.

Spring time is rolling in which means some places are going to have more customers, especially in countries that have all four seasons like Korea. What kind of place am I talking about? Amusement parks! And what are the main attractions there? Roller coasters!

“Kingda Ka”

The first Russian Mountains which are known as the earliest form of a roller coaster began to appear in Russia in the 1400s. Then France and Britain contributed to the roller coaster industry by adding wheels and loops. From then on especially during the 1800s and up to now, roller coaster have been ‘upgraded’ to give the riders a thrilling tingle as the ride goes through its ups and downs along with a few unexpected sharp turns.

Currently, the one of the most renown roller coasters in the world is “Kingda Ka” which is in “Six Flags Great Adventure” in Jackson Township, New Jersey, USA. This monster coaster was open to the world on May 21th, 2005, showing off its height of 139.5 m and speed of 206 km/h along with its drop of 127 m. All three points has made it the world’s tallest, fastest, and largest (in drop) roller coaster. Pretty impressive isn’t it?

Such a ride would probably give even the people with iron-strong hearts to feel a thud of fear. Then why do people like to feel scared?

The “feeling of fear” is actually an adrenaline rush, which results in increased strength and heightened senses. Fear is a factor that is hard-wired to our brain because we as humans take overcoming fear as an essential part of life. It’s just a matter of how we choose to overcome it that divides us into different individuals, for some people take other challenges as their goal to overcome while some others ride roller coasters.

Some people can really pose for their pictures during a fall in a roller coaster! =)

Like any other teenager of my age, I practically live with my Ipod.

If I were to give up something between my hot pink ‘Razor’ from Motorolla and my lime green Ipod, I would have to say goodbye to my cellular phone.

That’s how much I love music, considering how much one cannot live without a cellular phone these days and that love for music also extends to movie choices.

Last year, right after I was free the horrid finals, I grabbed Melanie’s hand, got a taxi and set off campus to go to watch a movie and feel the pressure of school melt away. We arrived at the movie theatre without thinking of what to watch but just by following my instinct that there would be this perfect movie to watch. Melanie chose the movie and that movie turned out to be “August Rush”.

To be completely honest when the movie started (it started quite suddenly cutting out all the extra credits that all other movies spend ‘forever’ on to make the audience feel impatient), I was thinking, ‘Oh no…not another loony movie.’ But thank god! The movie totally caught my attention and continuously made me lean over my chair and glare at anyone who tried to distract me.

The movie’s plot is actually pretty cheesy. It starts in an orphanage with this little boy named Evan Taylor who loves music and believes that his parents can hear him if he could just learn to play music. So he runs away and finds himself in New York City. He follows wherever music takes him and ends up following another boy named Arthur, who teaches him of the music a guitar can produce after wandering through the wonders of the amazing many sounds that a city produces for an ‘orphan’ who has lived in an orphanage for over twelve years. He enters into another world that he had not known of as he takes the hand of Arthur and steps into the rundown theater which is the home of many other orphans who all live with ‘Wizard’.

Wizard is the landlord type of characters who ‘cares’ for all the orphans who have a special talent in music by giving them a place to stay and food to eat (though I doubt is much at all) with the money that the orphans earn from the street performances they do at certain parts of the city. Evan catches Wizard’s eye when he proves that he has a natural talent in music although he does not have any experience with instruments. Wizard then greets Evan into the world of adult greed by taking Arthur’s guitar, Roxanne, and handing it to Evan to play for the money that Wizard wants. Evan’s name is also changed to August Rush, which Wizard believes is a much more fashionable name for a performer like Evan.

The movie as flashes back and forth between Evan’s point of view and the whereabouts of his parents who are apparently alive. The parents, grown up from to different worlds only to be bonded by their love of music and love for each other are separated by Lyra’s father who wants his daughter to be able to live a life of fame which would be ruined if she were to marry an Irish band vocalist, Louis. Feeling death approaching Lyra’s father reveals his secret he kept from Lyra that Evan is alive and not dead like he had lied to her while she was unconscious from her car accident. (Which I thought was very corny as it contains all the family secret thing going on, but it is a movie so…)

Meanwhile Evan, with his new name runs away from Wizard and the cops who Wizard says will take him back to the orphanage to a church where the Reverend and his daughter discovers his talent once again and helps him to go to get a better education in music at Juilliard School of Music. There he as acknowledged for his talent and eventually gets the opportunity to play his rhapsody in the annual concert the school held at Central Park. Wizard manages to find Evan and forces him back under his greed. Evan and Louis meet each other at Evan’s performing spot, without knowing that they are family. Evan introduces himself as August Rush and the two share their music by playing a tune together. Evan mentions that he was going to have his own rhapsody played at a concert, but he would not be able to. Louis does not believe Evan’s claims of conducting a Juilliard orhcestra with his own rhapsody, but tells Evan that if he was Evan he would not miss such an opportunity.

Evan decides to run away from Wizard and go to the concert. Wizard tries to grasp Evan, but Arthur surprisingly helps Evan escape. Evan turns up at the concert and has his rhapsody played. The movie ends with a family reunion although it is still a question whether Evan recognizes his parents whom he has never seen before.

What I loved about the movie is the music. The music is beautiful and seems to tell the story of the movie better than the movie does itself. The music had already started when Evan picked up ‘Roxanne’ but to me that was one of the most memorable moments other than the last few minutes of the movie where Evan entertains a huge crowd at Central Park along with the audience at theater all over the world with his rhapsody.

The rhapsody pretty much summed up the whole movie. It starts with the whistling sound that echoes during the opening of the movie then reminds us of Evan’s first impression of New York City. Then his story continues with the music as he expresses his first time he played on ‘Roxanne’. His time with Wizard and his time at Juilliard. This was one of those rare moments when I really felt that I could hear the music whispering its story to me although there is no lyrics.

I recommend this movie for anyone who loves music and a bit of drama!

[kml_flashembed movie="http://uk.youtube.com/v/X2juwBGJZW0" width="425" height="350" wmode="transparent" /]

Last year I had the opportunity to take part in Habitats for Humanity, an international organization contributed to building homes for those in need all over the world. Each Habitats for Humanity trip goes somewhere different and our school decided to go to Bangladesh.

Bangladesh is a relatively large country with a large, dense population which consists of many homeless people. Because if this when I first heard about our destination of the trip I had to give out a little sigh although I knew that the purpose of our trip was to go through all the conditions and help people which ever place we were going to.

However, the surprises didn’t stop there. Over 80% of Bangladesh’s population is consisted of Muslims, with a following 18% of Hindus. This I had expected after learning of where we were going to go. But, I did not realize that we had to wear long pants when the weather there is just like Hawaii: sunny, sunny, and sunny. Everyone who signed up for the trip had their mouths opened. Inside my head I was thinking, ‘Geez, is this really worth going?’ After I heard the next line of our instructor’s announcement I wished I was a boy, “Boys are allowed to wear shorts if they wish so.” ‘Okay, this has got to be the fairest country in the world.’

My dismay was quickly changed with a sense of anxiety and fear as the day of departure closed in.

When we arrived at Singapore to transfer our flight to Dhaka, we got a preview of the type of people we would be meeting from the flock of people lining up with us to board on the plane. Of all the people on the plane I believe that other than the airborne crew, we were the only only who were not Bengali. Being used to being called part of the majority, being surrounded by these new people in cultural clothes and darker skin color was a bit uncomfortable. I felt like the fish in the wrong tank surrounded by barracudas or something. But as I lack a bit of sensitiveness, I fell asleep after panicking for about twenty minutes, waking up to find a sticker on the backside of the seat in front of me telling me that I had missed my meal and little did I know that was I going to miss ‘that’ type of food.

After we got of the plane we were greeted by some more Bengali. No matter which direction I turned we obviously were the ‘foreigners’ here and were attracting so much attention that Hollywood stars could not have been more envious of us.

Cultural shock was something I really felt at Bangladesh. The first one happened right at the airport when some of us went to the restroom. The restroom was different from what most of the people I know of are used to. One has squat down and do their business and instead of toilet paper there is a little faucet and a bucket. It wasn’t much of a shock for me because there are some places like that in Korea and I had seen those in Thailand. However it really hit me that we were in a foreign place where things were going to be different whether I like it or not.

The bus ride to Durgapur, the village we stayed at for a lengthy time of our trip was bumpy, long, and drowsy, but one of the most memorable parts of my stay at Bangladesh. Going further and further alway from Dhaka, the capital of Bangladesh, we found ourselves staring at the beautiful landscape of the countryside. Among the trees and fields of rice, we got to see hundreds of people staring at our white vans which caught plenty of attention once again in an area where we barely got to see any other cars. I tried waving my hand at a little girl and found myself waving at various people of all age groups who all waved back at me. This continued for three hours until sunset. Although my arm did feel a bit sore afterwards, I felt really good because that is something you never do in Korea. Sure, you can try it but you would find several sets of eyes staring at you as if you were crazy. And I think it was from that point on that I discovered that I would have regretted if I had not come along in this trip.

The king and the duke of “The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn” were not so smart nor fortunate compared to Frank Abagnale Jr.. Frank Abagnale Jr. is known for the movie, “Catch Me If You Can”, which was based on his life as a successful con-artist.

His life story is elaborate and adventurous to every detail. So much that I would bet that even Tom Saywer with his runwawy imagination would stop in wonder and envy at this man’s presence. He lived his life as a bank fraud, Pan Am pilot, teacher, physician, attorney, and FBI agent with several different identities for five years before his capture in France (although he succeeded in running away two times afterward only to be captured again by a couple of NYDP officers). After serving less than five years of prison for about $2.6 million dollars worth of money, he was offered to help the US federal authorities against fraud artists with the condition of not being paid. Today he works to help inform the business world of fraud with his company, Abagnale & Associates and the FBI.

Although the nicknames, “Big Nale”, “Skyway Man”, and “The James Bond of the Sky” sticked to him and lead to connections with the two conmen of Twain’s book, Abagnale has been able to change the way he was looked upon as by paying back the fraud money that he owed 26 different countries across the world with the help of his company. So now, can’t he be compared to Huck who reformed his older, immature self to a better person who thinks of others?

[kml_flashembed movie="http://youtube.com/v/hFj3OXVL_wQ" width="425" height="350" wmode="transparent" /]

the preview of the movie “Catch Me If You Can”

[kml_flashembed movie="http://youtube.com/v/C_umVSfPkOQ" width="425" height="350" wmode="transparent" /]

Frank Abagnale Jr.’s version of his story

The end of the second clip was moving. It once again reminded me that you may be able to buy fame for money but not time or love for money.

*Go to http://www.spike.com/video/2458566 if you want to see another clip on Abagnale

Charlie and the Chocolate Factory has got to be one of my favorite books of all time along with some of the other works of Ronald Dahl.

The book is about a childhood fantasy in the outside but actually talks of family and society issues. This book has such vivid descriptions of all sorts of candy that you almost want to EAT the book! Anyone who hasn’t read the book should definitely read it. Here are some of my favorite clips that I have scooped from http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0067992/quotes. These will give you a “taste” of this sweet little, but big in imagination book!

“Everything in this room is eatable. In fact even I am eatable, but that is called canabalism my dear children and is frowned upon in most civilizations.” – Willy Wonka

This quote gives a glimpse of humor and the wonders of Willy’s factory which performs magic that even today stays a part of imagination, not reality.

“We are the music makers, and we are the dreamers of dreams.” – Willy Wonka

“Invention, my dear friends, is 93% perspiration, 6% electricity, 4% evaporation, and 2% butterscotch ripple” – Willy Wonka

This also shows humor because if you add up all the percentages it is 105%!

Mike Teevee: Wait ’til I get a real one. Colt 45. Pop won’t let me have one yet, will ya, pop?
Mr. Teevee: Not ’til you’re 12, son.

You really can see the family issues here. Mr. Teevee has the magic of spoiling his child…

Violet Beauregarde: Well, normally, I’m a gum chewer. But when I heard about these ticket things of Wonka’s, I laid off the gum and switched to candy bars, instead. Now, of course, I’m right back on gum. I chew it all day, except at mealtimes when I stick it behind my ear.
Mrs. Beauregarde: Now, Violet…
Violet Beauregarde: Cool it, Mother. Now, this little piece of gum I’ve been chewing on for three months solid. That’s a world record. It’s beaten the record held by my best friend, Miss Cornelia Prince Medal. And, WAS she mad. Hi, Cornelia. How are ya, Sweetie!

Talk about being spoiled and crazy!

Charlie Bucket: It’s perfect.
Mrs. Teevee: It’s unbelievable.
Grandpa Joe: It’s a miracle.
Mike Teevee: It’s a TV dinner.
Willy Wonka: It’s Wonkavision.
Grandpa Joe: It could change the world.

Wonka Magic! If there was a Willy Wonka today I really think I would eat a thousand chocolate bars in search of a golden ticket!

Mrs. Gloop: You boiled him up, I know it.
Willy Wonka: Nil desperandum, my dear lady. Across the desert lies the promised land.
[Mrs. Gloop is led away to the fudge room]
Willy Wonka: Goodbye, Mrs. Gloop. Adieu. Aufwiedersehen. Gesundheit. Farewell.

I love the way Wonka teaches the people the real way to live the world even though he does it the hard way.

Willy Wonka: This is the great glass Wonkavator.
Grandpa Joe: It’s an elevator.
Willy Wonka: It’s a Wonkavator. An elevator can only go up and down, but the Wonkavator can go sideways and slantways and longways and backways…
Charlie Bucket: And frontways?
Willy Wonka: …and squareways and front ways and any other ways that you can think of. It can take you to any room in the whole factory just by pressing one of these buttons. Any of these buttons. Just press a button and *zing*! You’re off. And up until now, I’ve pressed them all… except one. This one. Go ahead, Charlie.
Charlie Bucket: Me?
[Willy Wonka nods]

Wonka expresses his trust in Charlie, the only true child, pure of adult greed and filth in the whole book.

Charlie Bucket: [about the Wonkamobile] Is this going to go fast Grandpa?
Grandpa Joe: It should, Charlie, it’s got more gas in it than a politician.

I just thought this was funny~

Mrs. Teevee: [while waiting for Mike to appear on the screen] Why is it taking so long?
Charlie Bucket: A million pieces take a long time to put together.

Grownups…they should go to school instead of us.

Mr. Hoffstetter: I’m still having these dreams, Doctor, and I can’t stop myself from believing them.
Psychiatrist: I’ve told you before, Mr. Hoffstetter: to believe in one’s dreams is a sign of insanity, and the sooner you accept this, the sooner you’ll get well.
Mr. Hoffstetter: But I dreamed the Archangel appeared and whispered into my ear, and told me where to find a Golden Wonka Ticket.
Psychiatrist: [looks up from his notes, interested] And what exactly did he say?
Mr. Hoffstetter: Well what difference does that make? This was a dream, a fantasy, a figment of…
Psychiatrist: Shut up and tell me where the ticket is!

Geez…so he is supposed to be the doctor?

[noticing signs on vats]
Mr. Salt: Wonka. Butterscotch? Buttergin? That’s what’s going on inside of it?
Willy Wonka: Candy is dandy, but liquor is quicker.Mrs. Gloop: He’s gone! He’ll be made into marshmallows in five seconds.
Willy Wonka: Impossible, my dear lady. That’s absurd. Unthinkable.
Mrs. Gloop: Why?
Willy Wonka: Because that pipe doesn’t go to the marshmallow room. It goes to the fudge room.
Mrs. Gloop: You terrible man!

Wonka and his lovable patience.

Mike Teevee: But Easter’s over!
Willy Wonka: Shhh! They don’t know that. I’m trying to get ahead for next year.

It is the marketing process you know.

Mr. Salt: Where is she going?
Willy Wonka: Where all the other bad eggs go. Down the garbage chute.
Mr. Salt: [laughs] Oh, the garbage chute. Where does it lead to?
Willy Wonka: To the furnace.
Mr. Salt: [laughs] The furnace! She’ll be sizzled like a sausage.
Willy Wonka: Oh, not necessarily. She could be stuck just inside the tube.
Mr. Salt: Inside the…
[he starts suddenly in shock and runs]
Mr. Salt: Hold on! Veruca! Sweetheart! Daddy’s coming!
[jumps down the chute]
Willy Wonka: There’s going to be a lot of garbage today.

Why worry about her now? Why not before?

Charlie Bucket: Mr. Wonka, what’s gonna happen to the other kids? Augustus, Veruca?
Willy Wonka: My dear boy, I promise you they’ll be quite all right. When they leave here, they’ll be completely restored to their normal, terrible old selves. But maybe they’ll be a little bit wiser for the wear. Anyway, don’t worry about them.

Willy Wonka: How did you like the chocolate factory, Charlie?
Charlie Bucket: I think it’s the most wonderful place in the whole world!
Willy Wonka: I’m very pleased to hear you say that, because I’m giving it to you.

Willy Wonka: So who can I trust to run the factory when I leave and take care of the Oompa Loopa’s for me, not a grown up. A grown up would want to everything his own way, not mine. That’s why I decided a long time ago that I had to find a child, a very honest, loving child, to whom I could tell all my most precious candy making secrets.
Charlie Bucket: And that’s why you sent out the golden tickets.
Willy Wonka: That’s right. So the factory is all yours, Charlie. You can move in immediately…
Charlie Bucket: But what about the rest…
Willy Wonka: The whole family… I want you to bring them all.

The story ends giving us one simple conclusion…kids rule!