Mine was simple and satisfaying- I can proudly say that not a single piece of turkey entered my mouth last Thursday. Further, our family didn't even bask in the warmth of a house.
Instead, we got to eat at a picnic table at a park in Bishop, California.
(Side digression begins)
Bishop is a town up in the middle of nowhere- it's about 4 hours north of LA. The reason Bishop exists is for two reasons.
1. Erick Schat's Bakery- if I ever owned an European bakery up in the hills of the Swiss Alps, it would look like that. Guessing at the kind of business that the bakery generates on a daily basis, I would probably also need a Swiss Bank Account, and a Swiss watch to keep track of all the time I'd be forgetting about because I'd be enjoying my job so much.
2. It's 40 miles from Mammoth, so people who need to fill their cars us with gas and stock up on cheap ski stuff before getting there can take care of that here.
Those two reasons are what brought my family up there.
(End of digression)
The picnic table in the park was placed perfectly. It was surrounded by a scattered mess of crunchy red leaves, the kind that you rake into a pile in the fall and jump into when you're a little kid (or a little kid at heart). A small stream was flowing nearby, towards a duck pond. The duck pond itself had a gazebo on it, so that you could walk across the pond, stand under the gazebo, and laugh at the ducks while saying, 'Hey, look at me, ducks, I am above the water so I am above you too, mwahaha." Of course, they can fly too, quacking back at you in mockery, but since you got the gazebo, they can't retaliate by dropping their poop on you because the gazebo's got a roof on it. Stupid ducks.
Mom made some jangjorim (boiled beef), and we ate that along with kimchi and ramen that we boiled on top of a 4 dollar butane stove. The sun was already setting, so we huddled together as we ate our hot noodles and warm beef and cold kimchi in the 40 degree weather.
The simplicity of the meal is typical of our family during Thanksgiving. I've certainly had larger meals with my family (especially when we eat with relatives), but in the end, I don't mind. Every meal is an opportunity to give thanks, and every meal is an opportunity to thank each other for the company that you're with at that time. To me, you understand that more when you don't eat a whole lot of food.
It surprises me that I am writing here, at this time.
I thought I'd be long done with Xanga, having documented various events in my life as I tried to reason out my undergraduate years @ Indiana and the first couple years in San Diego. But I've always felt that sense of urgency to write, to properly convey my thoughts, my emotions, a "complicated essence" of me. I am the prototypical product of my generation: an attention whore who would like nothing more than to be recognized because I am entitled to it by the freedom given to me by the Internet.
Perhaps that what attracts me by writing, that inexplicable jolt of energy that comes when you have an idea that you're wanting to convey and record for yourself just so that you don't forget it, so that the people who read it may find a sense of commonality because they've felt, they've thought the same thing.
Ever since I turned 25, I've begun to experience the first signs of "aging," so to speak. My hearing has always been fairly poor, to the point where I have to bow my head towards people as I ask them to repeat what they just said. Now, my still-powerful but not short-circuiting memory is beginning to play tricks with me. Names are getting harder for me to remember, and I search for new ways to hide my shortcomings by acting more mature and self-assured.
The skills that I am wishing to learn and achieve become harder by the day. It behooves me to tell those younger than me to seize your youth and manifest the potential that is in each of themselves. Do not let yourself be deceived by doubt, handcuffed by hostility, infested by instant gratification. The cliche is true: excellence is a habit.
And so here I am, unlearning a lot of what got me to where I'm at, struggling to set aside the weaknesses of my habits. It is so hard to change the flesh, because it seems so good to us on a superficial level. Perhaps my perception of life needs to be changed and refined further. It'll be good, I'm sure.
When you've forced yourself into the library during the first week of classes at UCSD, you ought to get some kind of work done, right? Reading, writing, talking. Ok, maybe not talking.
I guess to be somewhat thankful, nobody I know is in the library, so that takes out talking (which is already made difficult by the fact that talking in the library takes away from the point of the library itself...a fact that I regularly fail to comprehend).
As for reading...well, the Dodgers won today. IU basketball has a new head coach. The Final Four's this weekend, but I'm going to the Dodgers-Padres game instead. (GO UNC or Kansas!) I look forward to wearing my Dodgers jersey and causing grief to Padre fans with my dancing and witty putdowns (Ok, maybe just dancing).
So here comes writing. The trip to LA was awesome, a well needed break. First, a trip to my old bible study leader's house in Irvine, where I got to watch the movie Beaches (because chick flicks are totally the thing to do in a house where men outnumber women 4 to 3), eat a home-cooked Korean meal, play handball with 5 year olds and 9 year olds (and let them beat me), and see 2-year-old Priscilla speak her first words to me:
Priscilla: "Hi, Sung"
Me: "Hi, Priscilla" Priscilla: "What's this?" (points to the scab on my knee that I got diving for a basketball) Me: "That's an ow-ie" Priscilla: "No, that's poo-poo" (giggles) Me: (groans)
She the proceeded to call me "Uncle Sonny," and with the encouragement of two of her older siblings, then calls me "Uncle Sorry." Over the next few days, the following happens:
- I go to Alhambra to drink boba...just like in high school, only we'd do it in Torrance instead of driving for 30 minutes east.
Friday - I go watch a Dodgers game @ Dodger Stadium, where the highlights of my night include hitting beach balls in the left field bleachers and getting my picture taken with two Red Sox fans (who wouldn't stop saying how great Boston was in everything).
Saturday: - I lose a bet involving Guitar Hero and pay for a 2 am run to Jack in the box for 3 people. (which subsequently they all "paid for" in the morning) - I go workout at 24 Hr Fitness as a guest of two of my friends. I have yet to fully recover from the burn of that workout.
With Charlie and Christine: -We eat dinner at a Korean Crab House in Redondo Beach. And the meal was paid for by somebody else. Yay! -We go Karaoking. If we were popstars, the fans would have been asking for their money back...that is, if we had any fans. Oh well. -We went dancing. Sung plus dancing minus alcohol = Really Good Time.
Sunday:
-Breakfast @ Hong Kong Plaza in Rowland Heights with inappropriately named Candy. -Followed by a frantic drive to make it to church on time in Long Beach. -Having seen baptisms the week before, sharing in communion brought me to tears. -Reuniting with two of my old youth pastors, one of whom was kind enough to open her apartment for hospitality and her wonderful Cajun noodles. Well, I'll stop here before my nose does more running than I did today. Can't wait for Wednesday!
