New Year.

It's December 31st, 2011. The clock hits 12:00 a.m.  All of a sudden it's 2011 again, and you have the chance to redo everything.

Would you?

Gifts, Holidays, and such.

For those of you who celebrate Christmas, I hope you had a wonderful one. For those who are into holidays, Happy Holidays - I hope you are enjoying the time off. For those who don't celebrate anything at this time of the year, too bad. I hope you are having good days.

Every year, I can't fully fathom all this craziness surrounding the holidays. It's amazing to me how crazy we all can get with the shopping, and the time off, and the snow, and the Christmas trees - for months in advance. When Christmas finally comes, it says a quick hi and before we can fully grasp it, it's gone till next year. That's it? The gifts just become things, the trees are thrown out, the lights taken down and before we know it we are all back to our crummy jobs and making new years resolutions that we all know we won't keep. What is the point of it all, I wonder. What's the craze. It seems like Christmas has long moved on from a religious holiday and become a hallmark holiday designed to make people spend as much as they can for no good reason. I have rolled my eyes at that in the past.

But then something happened on Christmas morning, after the proposal on Christmas Eve, when I woke up sensing this air of excitement all around me. I could hear whispers, and chants and giggles. I came out of my room and found the entire family siting around the Christmas tree, still in their pajamas, opening presents all googly-eyed, and hugging each other, with an occasional scream of joy or laughter of happiness while the smell of hot chocolate and cinnamon filled the house. I watched and observed and smiled, and truly realized then that I had it all wrong. It wasn't about the shopping; it was about the bonding. It wasn't about the gifts around the Christmas tree but the family wrapped up in those gifts. It wasn't about the ring; it was about the love and the commitment. It wasn't about the tons of photographs; it was about the memories.

After all, even for me, it wasn't really about the expensive diamond in this little box. Instead, the hours it took to stand in line to get that little gift wrapped touched my heart the most. I suppose when everything is done and gone and the gifts are broken and lost, that's what you really remember and cherish - the thought, and the effort, and the fact that they know what you like... and most importantly, the love.

I Romanticize

The Right Thing.

For what it's worth, I didn't really mean to do it, but somehow I ended up standing outside of the Nordstorm where I had been browsing for gifts earlier. And, I wasn't empty handed. Somehow, I had managed to get out of the store with $600 worth of stuff (okay, there were only three items but that's how much they would have cost me) without paying for them. Not only did I get here with these things in my hands but most importantly I came out of the store without any alarms going off even though I had just passed through those doors with scanners on both sides. While trying to solve that puzzle, I realized that this was something to actually be excited about. I had successfully managed to get some really good quality $600 worth of stuff.... for free! I have shoplifted without even trying and all I need to do is walk away slowly, pretend nothing is out of the ordinary and this would be a great day.

As I became giddy at the sheer thought of getting free gifts in my hands, and began to thank my lucky stars, the good old conscience woke up just to ruin my moment of excitement, and triggered the back-and-forth pros and cons battle in my head which went something like this: This is stealing. No, it's not - it's called luck. You are not entitled to these goods without payment. I am not buying them for myself - these are gifts. What if you get caught, you will go to jail! No I won't. Relax, it's not that big of a deal. God is watching. Karma is a bitch. Don't do it.

It turned out that 'God' was trigger for me, otherwise I was determined to win this battle with my conscience. God was close to me and disappointing God was not exacttly the kind of thing I had in mind especially not during this time of the year. I sighed,  I looked up and addressed God: I am going to turn around and pay for these items because I know it is the right thing to do and stealing is against my faith, but damn it, I better be rewarded for this!

So with a heavy heart I turned around knowing that I would regret it at some point later, I did it anyway because it was the right thing to do and if I did the right thing I would be rewarded, and that reward could potentially be much more than $600.

But the truth is, we don't do anything because it is the right thing to do. We do it out of fear or for a reward. We believe that we will get something out of it. For the people of faith, it's about fearing or pleasing God. For some it's about getting praise, for others it's about karma, yet for some others it's about impressing someone in particular, and there are a few who just do the right things to boost their ego -  to make themselves feel better. But all of us are in some way doing the right thing, not because it is the right thing to do but because we are hoping for something better in return. I wonder if we can ever truly do something in this world without looking for something in return. We help a friend so that they will help us at some other point in our lives. We create networks to get ahead. We work hard to make more money. We love only to be loved.  I wonder if "values" really is anything to us. Or perhaps it's just a word we use to mask our selfishness and sheer lack of any morality. We are almost always driven by ulterior motives. It's all about the profit and the gain - for us only.

As for me, I am still waiting for my reward of doing the "right thing."  

Lovestruck Teenager.

I feel as if I am a lovestruck teenage girl sitting in class writing for her most recent infatuation. If only  that were true. A part of me misses the teenage crushes, when things were simpler and the attractions were shallow. You wanted to be with them because they looked cute or because they were popular. They wanted to be with you because you were pretty. The more unattainable they were, the more you wanted them. But somehow it was easier to get over them. A few months, another boy, find a new one for the prom, find another one for homecoming dance. It was easier to go from one to the other. You cried your eyes out, thought the world was coming to an end, ate a whole bucket of ice-cream and before you know it, another one came along, and the dreaming started all over.

But before you know it, it all becomes all too real - the emotions, the attractions, it all becomes too serious - and the real world welcomes you. Here the emotions are stronger, the pain deeper - it's real business. The gains and the losses are real and so is the heartache.

Across the Intersection.

It is mid-afternoon. I come out of my apartment for a photo-walk. I want to take a photograph for you.  As I come out, I notice that it is cloudy. I put my hands in my pockets and start walking. I walk two blocks, and realize that the air smells a little different now. The smell of apple cider, and cinnamon has been replaced with the smell of peppermint and freshly baked cookies. I stop for a moment in my steps to take it all in. It's not really cold. It feels like autumn but it smells like winter. I approach the intersection and there is a scene I see - a scene that could be captured so beautifully in a photograph.

I take my camera out to take a shot at it but decide against it when I hear the bell chimes of the Salvation Army lady standing in the corner asking for donations. I lean against a pole and stay there for a while. I see an elderly man sweeping the outside of his bakery with an old broom. He looks up to me and smiles. I smile back.  A lady in high heels and a woolen dress hurriedly walks past me. She is continuously staring at her blackberry while walking and I hope to God she doesn't fall on her face with those heels. A giant commuter bus stops across the street from me to let an elderly lady come off. She is a stereotypical image of an old woman: wearing what looks like an Amish cap on her head and a long sleeved dress and flats on her feet. She limping but moving forward with the help of a cane.  A huge bag in hanging from one of her shoulders - groceries, perhaps. She disappears from my sight as she turns around the corner on my right. I turn towards my left and a young couple turns around the corner on the street I am standing. They are walking with the woman holding the man's hand in both her hands. They look like they could be walking out of a Banana Republic photo shoot. As they approach closer, I hear them making dinner plans. How cute.

Two kids (not older than six or seven years) walk in my direction from across the street dragging a toy cart. It is full of leaves and stones, and some interesting looking twigs. Considering my love for leaves, I am almost tempted to stop them and ask to pick a few out. The mothers have dressed these kids in the cutest winter outfits even though the winter is not really here yet but the flu season is so I can imagine.  I don't know where these kids are coming from and where they are going but their faces are gleaming as if they have found a treasure. Their shoes, however, tell the real story: they are muddy and wet. They have to be coming from the woods edge where I am pretty sure they are not allowed to be on their own. I hate to break it to them but these leaves in their cart are not going to be allowed indoors, especially when all the mothers are getting the houses ready for holidays. But they look so accomplished and prideful.  I let them be, and just smile.

And here's what gives this scene a final touch: A few feet from me is a bearded old man in an old black suit and a hat. He puts his giant briefcase on the ground, brings his saxophone out and takes a long drawl at it, filling the otherwise quiet street with a haunting echo from that saxophone - warm and powerful. He makes me close my eyes, smell the air again and fill my senses with the jazz that is spreading ever so beautifully all around me.

You see, there are stories at every corner of the street. Stories we like to tell through photos and colors and words. I decided to paint this scene - with my words, this time. I figured that anyone can take a snapshot. Not everyone can tickle your imagination.

Yet Again.

And there you go again. You are smiling a little more. You’re sad a little less. You are looking forward to another tomorrow. You are dressing up slightly more – nothing special, just a little more color than usual. Your thoughts not cloudy - the fog seems to be fading away. You are distracted but not really distracted. And your heart – it is slightly more energetic. It isn’t as if life is running through you, but it doesn't feel like it's being ripped apart either.

And there you go again. The sad songs don’t seem all that sad anymore. And the words flow slightly more easily than they did before. And you want to send some flowers somewhere. And you want someone to smile – nothing too special, just a little smile. And you know there is no always. But you know that it is still something.

So, there you go again.