Auroris was cute during Anna's freshman year because she was a little girl and it was a dance recital. The subsequent years, however, saw the dances get more Wedee and me feel more skeevy. This fourth and final presentation was a bit of a return to the beginning.

Like birds taking flight


In motion


Myung and John with the dancer after the show


Ladies and gentlemen, Auroris...

Political turmoil and violence in Kenya means that I'm disappointed for the second time this week. Over 600 dead and hundreds of thousands displaced, and my biggest concern is what this means for me. A lot less now, I guess.

It's supposed to be 80 degrees in Nairobi next week. I would have packed polo shirts and mosquito repellent. It's colder here. It's easier to be cold here.

Now this is interesting.

Just when I thought I'd moved past it - in all my enlightened weltanschauung - it comes back and says hello. And as much as I fight it, I must confess, there is something altogether effortless about going back. Stumbling, bumbling, fumbling into it.

I thought it was a diamond. Really, what else would be there? Except that it wasn't accompanied by a pronouncement and congratulations. And that felt funny, and a little numb.

Then it was gone. And that felt like maybe.

It could be back tomorrow. Who knows?

*****

I was at Rich's house on Saturday night watching the football games and his sister was there doing something on the computer, Facebook, maybe, and I thought about my sister and wondered what she was doing on that Saturday night and hoping that she wasn't home and hoping that she was out having fun and I thought

*****

When I was just a little girl
I asked my mother, "What will I be?
Will I be pretty? Will I be rich?"
Here's what she said to me:

*****

As I've gotten older, I find myself less interesting and less interested. Sometimes when I'm talking to people, I feel a little guilty about that, but not enough to try to be more and more.

But there's no need to fake interest. If it's there, it's undeniable. I won't need to worry if it will be back tomorrow and I won't need to ask what lies ahead.

Coming home from my last out-of-town interview at one o'clock in the morning, I walked over to the small corner of the El stop that was heated by lamps. I was thinking about all the interviews, about wanting to be happy, about the cold, and about the future.

And there, with their heads tucked into their necks, were five pigeons gathered under the warmth.

They scooted over to make room for me, just another soul seeking refuge from the elements.

I never wanted a simple story. It seemed so boring, so trite, so ordinary. I wanted adventure, I wanted excitement, and at the end of the day, to kiss the earth and say that I've had a full life indeed.

Almost all the interviews will include, "Tell me about yourself," or "Why surgery?" or some variation along those lines. They're like children at bedtime, wanting to hear a good story.

"Every one of you has a story," they taught us, "And you need to tell that story to your interviewer."

I've been talking about myself a lot for the past few months. And if you know me at all - and I don't mean my blog - you know that it's not exactly something that I'm naturally inclined to do. So while I've been talking, I haven't really been listening to myself. During my last interview, I listened.

And it was actually kind of interesting. A life lived off the beaten path, though it wasn't always easy, was definitely a life less ordinary. And I think I will keep telling my story deep into the night.

Some pictures from New Year's Day:

Three generations of Koo women. As is Korean tradition, everyone is dressed in hanbok and preparing to bow and offer wishes of blessings in the new year.


The matriarch. My grandmother gets more frail every time I see her. I have to sit next to her and remind her who I am. She tells me to study hard.