I wrote this story for my work's community newsletter, thought I'd share it to the Xanga community....Merry Christmas!

“The Gift of the Magi” was always one of my favorite stories growing up.  She gives up her hair, he gives up his watch, it’s a very lovely story.  Even as a kid, I always liked the notion of giving, the notion of being selfless.  All of the heroes in the children books celebrated "doing good unto others."  And every Christmas, the same moral of the story is cited over and over: Christmas is for giving, Christmas is for thinking on those less fortunate.  But like most children, I was in on it for the presents.  Each year was a contest on how big I could score from the family. 

Growing up in a Korean household, where the heater never went above 65 in the winter and never below 80 on a hot summer day, I was always a little miserly.  Or as us penny pinchers like to say, "frugal."  I am constantly comparison shopping, analyzing, and complaining about taxes.   Not being a poor college student anymore has helped, a little.  But I still strive to be ”smart” with my money.

During college, I was really big into “homemade” gifts.  You know the kind, the homemade card, the knitted scarf, the slightly hard chocolate chip cookies.  Now that I’m working, the knitted scarf has been replaced by a seventy dollar sweater, the slightly hard cookies by a gift certificate to the local electronics store.  Are the gifts better now?  Undoubtedly yes (especially if you’ve seen one of my knitted scarves).  Is there less thought to the gift?  Perhaps…

Now I’m not arguing for all of us to give up on gift shopping and take up knitting.  But this does raise the point of the “spirit” of giving.  I, like most of us, find myself caught up with work and travel and I’m definitely guilty of passing around the gift certificates for the sake of convenience.  My family has even resorted to giving each other lists of our top five items as a sure fire bet of getting at least one thing we’ll like for Christmas. 

But then, is that what Christmas is all about?  Making sure we get that gift we’ve been eyeing or cashing in on that overtime?  As I reflect on O’Henry’s tale of giving, I realize that the beauty of the story is not in the gift, but in the sacrifice of the gift.  The story would have been much different if, rather than Della selling her long, beloved hair, she worked extra shifts to get Jim’s present.  And what a different twist it would’ve been if rather than selling his own highly prized watch, Jim sold his slightly less prized hat instead.  Della and Jim both sacrificed their most prized possessions for each other.  And that is what makes this story so beautiful.

This holiday season, my hope is that as we shop for our friends and loved ones, we truly give with the sacrifice of giving.  No expectations.  No calculation.  A gift of our thought, time, and love.  Happy holidays.

When someone is happy, as I am now, I believe that deep down there is this creeping fear that sooner or later all of this has to come crashing down.  No one can be happy forever, it doesn't work that way.  It comes in waves.  And yet, I've been riding in this wave for a really long time, I think I can say I'm truly happy.  I have...joy. 

I think finding joy is an active pursuit.  Whether in God, family, friends, sports, work (hmm), children, art, music, whatever it may be, this joy must be proactive.  Lately I've become content in my station of life, and I'm not sure how I feel about that.  Is it too small of a picture to continue like this, happy and satisfied in the little things, not moving beyond or pushing as some strive to do? 

Growing up, my dad used to always tell me to have a "big goal."  Never settle.  Think "high."  As a kid, the biggest goal I could think of was going the highest possible: the sky.  Naturally I wanted to be an astronaut.And now I find myself working a job that I have no passion for, falling asleep to TV at night and sleeping in on the weekends and I’m still content with where I am. But am I only tasting what could be possibly more? Is there a measure of happiness that is infinitely larger than mine and the only reason I’m content is because I’ve never been there? I don’t know.And…I don’t know if I need to know. But that slight creeping feeling…its there.

I know I have changed. I know that I’m not the same person I was a year ago (to some extent), a better person I hope. There is a pull the other direction, however, a standing still of sorts.

Another year is gone,

And I still wear

Star hat and straw sandal

--Basho

I can empathize all too well with Basho. I think a lot of people feel this way, “what am I doing with my life?”  If someone is not changing, then are they bettering themselves, others, the world?  Is it possible to have these questions and still be happy? Truly happy? Listen to me, I’ve become a philosophical thinker. A philosophical consultant.  Impossible.

I need to write more, go back to what I like.  How many people out there do what they love and do it well? I  love dancing, I’ve determined.  But I’m not very good. I love watching movies, I’m pretty good at that.I love to sing and mess up the lyrics.  But I’m horrible at that.  Maybe its not a matter of being good, maybe it’s a matter of passion.

I want passion.

I am now "in it." The whole dressing up, taking the train, waking up at 6 in the morning (begin R. Kelly).  Yeah, its tough.  I'm tired.  I now need caffeine. 

Help...

In other news, its Eric's birthday!!!  HAPPY BIRTHDAY!  Wow, you're now 23...23.  Oh man, you're so...olllllllllllllllllllld. :)  But I love you, and I think you're fantastic.  Yay for 1981!

Which reminds me, I still don't know how old I am sometimes.  I remember being 19 and going to the movies to watch "Requiem for a Dream."  It was rated NC-17 and as I was walking in, the usher asked me (very skeptically, I might add) "how old are you?"  I got so nervous, I blurted out "17!!"  Thought about it for a sec and say "wait, no, I'm 19!"  Its the same even today, it doesn't help that I look young or that my voice is incredibly high ("like a 5-year old's, as Roshan likes to always point out), but now as I go to work in my dressy clothes, I feel like I'm playing grown up.  I'm too young!!  What am I doing wearing close-toed heels??  Plus, they're incredibly painful. 

I digress...

Anyway, I feel the same when people check my ID for any reason.  I suddenly get nervous, as if they'll find out that actually, I'm only 17 with a fake ID that only says I'm 22.  I'll never get over it.  Maybe when I'm 40, I'll look 20 (yesssssssssss) and still have the perky breasts of a 17-year old.  Muahahahaha. 

High for the day: not missing the train

Low for the day: not missing the train

Currently reading: "The Case for Christ."  I recommend it to everyone, only read the first chapter but I'm already hooked.

Special dinner tonight: circus theme?  Gah!  I'm thinking of dressing up as an elephant.  I can be the ears and trunk and Eric can be the butt and tail.  Heh.  I'm just glad I get to take a breather (after I write this stupid paper!!) 

I've been so stressed this week, with 25 hours at Dreamworks and PWR, plus classes ("dead week" my butt!) 3 presentations, 3 papers, 1 portfolio, a take home final, studying for finals week, and meetings all I can say is...

THANK GOD FOR MAUI!!

8 days and counting...

Prey

by Me

He told her to stay.  “It’s more natural

For the woman to be home, just look at

the nature shows.”  I remember this

because that very night, I stayed up late

(without permission) and saw a show about

praying mantises.  But it was all wrong. 

The female was in charge.  Her green spindly

Legs were beautiful.  Sharp razors, like the

Serrated edges of plastic camping

knives, but deadlier—menacing, so grace-

ful in the motion of holding: power

in subduing the struggle and the final

sweep to the neck of her prey.  Her eyes

said it best: there was to be no questioning.

And I knew, if he had told her to stay,

She would have eaten him. 

Who was I to compare the bold stature

Of the female praying mantis, the monster

Of my dreams, savior of my childhood—

To this woman.  A woman of forty-five,

Figure bent, her teeth soft: gums, mush. 

She was beautiful once, you could tell by

Her thin fingers that she still held to her

Face as gesture, either from vanity or shame. 

But then he told her to stay—when he didn’t.

And she did.

I've been so emotional lately.  On the way to work yesterday and today, I drove, crying.  Why?  I don't know.  My sister says its the stress but I don't think so.  Maybe I got bitten by the same thing that got to Christina.  Its a good cry though, my body needs it.  The rain has been so miserable and yet so cleansing, just today, stuck in traffic, the sun reflected so brightly against the muddy water next to my car and it mirrored bright green and pink on my windows.  Then, I would drive really fast and it made me dizzy just looking at it (you ask, why Bea were you not looking at the road?  Well, that will just have to go unanswered, although, I AM an excellent driver, ask anyone.  Don't fall into that trap of categorizing me as an Asian woman driver...pfft). 

I had an awful night last night, my room is the devil: so hot, stuffy, nothing can cool me.  I woke up with my hand to my neck, squirming and hitting at an invisible sea monkey.  I had such a strange dream.  Eric just got a whole bunch of sea monkeys, ugly little things they are, and I keep imagining them infiltrating the air and attacking my body when I'm around.  Anyway, I had this dream that this classroom I was in had a huge fish tank in the middle of the room filled with sea monkeys that were growing bigger and bigger.  But only, they weren't, they were big black fish and suddenly, the room was filled with water and the sea monkeys got loose and they were crowding me, nipping at my neck and my fingers, trying to get them off, could feel their slimy tongues.  Needless to say, I woke up so disturbed, my jaws clenched and my body very hot and stressed.

On a better note, learned Lindy Hop last night.  Going to Viennese Ball!  Woohoo!  Since yesterday was the first time either I or Eric ever danced swing, we still...suck.  But its obvious that out of the two, I'm the more talented one. :)  Well, it should be a fun affair either way.  Dinner with Christina Ha and Steven before hand....good steak! I'll dance for a good piece of steak any day. 

High: Beautiful weather (alright, so the storm is freakishly scary but the glaring sun makes it all worthwhile)

Another high: Suites semi-formal tonight

Low:  Mmm...oh yeah, the stress, and the sea monkeys...