This is 40

Ten years ago, my good friends threw me a 30th birthday party where several of them had volunteered to prepare songs for me beforehand.  Most of them were parodies -- other renditions of everything from musicals to the Beastie Boys with lyrics in my honor.  Some who couldn't be there even contributed by video.  I had just gotten really into DJ-ing, and the party was themed as such.  My guest of honor accessory was a giant record and a silly paper crown.  It was perfect, and friends I hadn't seen in years participated.

I couldn't have known that in just two years, one of my guests would be killed in a car accident with her son on New Year's Day.  Or that a couple of years after that, another close friend would be taken by cancer.  If you had told me at that birthday party what was to come -- a decade containing the most difficult events and lessons of my life, I certainly wouldn't have wanted to keep going.  I'm not married, I have no children.  Some dreams are even still deferred.  And here I am, ten years later on my 40th birthday, working long hours, and with a boyfriend sick in bed with the one summer cold.

But this is 40.  In an odd way, there's something perfect about the imperfectness of today.  The reality of obligations and the unpredictable, non-me-ness of life are more real than ever at this age.  My birthday has always been a sensitive day for me, the one day I could just think about me and what I wanted to do, and feel okay about that.  But today's reality was setting in -- boyfriend illness, dinner plans cancelled, work escalating yet again -- the world doesn't stop for me, and it never really has.  But I knew one thing would still be true: The Lord rejoices over me.  He rejoices over this day he created me, knowing the years of joy and suffering that would finally lead me to that place of confidence in his unshakeable, unconditional love. That, too, came with the chrysalis of the last 10 years, and my 30-year-old self just wouldn't have gotten it.

So this birthday, toiling at meaningless work, is imperfect.  But I have a God with perfect love for me. That truth hit me with tears this morning, and I can truly say that's enough.

And the Award Goes To...

Last night, I saw the movie, "Zero Dark Thirty," the gripping 12-year story of the search and killing of Osama Bin Laden. The movie follows the young woman, Maya, committed to a point of obsession with finding him over years of dead trails, un-threadable bits of information and loss of friends in the same pursuit. At one moment in the movie, she reveals what is fueling her motivation. "I've lost a lot of friends trying to do this. I think maybe it's my role to finish the job."

The older I get, the more moved I am by stories of long fought battles, marathon races and hard-won victories. When she said this, I felt a tear come to my eye. It has been a long road with unexpected twists, dead trails and and lost friends, both physically and spiritually. But like Maya, I find that the more suffering I survive, the more determined I become to just finish the race. It's too late to give up, though the temptation to do so gets heavy at times. I need to see how my story ends and I need to see how God's plan for my life unfolds.

Tonight, Ben Affleck took home an Academy Award for "Argo," the winning film for Best Picture of the year. He spoke of taking home his first Oscar 15 years ago as a kid for writing, "Good Will Hunting," not knowing what he was doing and naive to the world he had just entered. He expected he'd never receive another award. After more than a decade that included public scrutiny, ridicule and needing to completely rebuild his reputation, he humbly received this award as a different man - one who understood every battle he needed to overcome in order to get there.  His closing words were, "What I learned was it doesn't matter if you get knocked down in life, what matters is that you've got to get back up."

Someday, all of glory of the Oscars will go away.  The accolades of this world will no longer mean anything. What is promised is a prize to those who have run the race in life so as to receive it - that there's something indeed at the end of it all worth all of the tears, incredible loss, unspeakable heartbreak.  If I were to imagine the award I might get at the end, it might be for Tenacity - something I have found within myself despite myself.  Or more likely, receiving the acceptance of God in his very presence of God alone will be the unfathomable honor.

I have to keep going.  I want to receive this prize.

The Bros in My Life

Every girl - single or otherwise - should be so lucky to have the totally amazing, unconditionally loving, completely platonic men in her life that I have.  I believe that if I ever leave the single sisterhood, I’ll still rely on these men for everything my guy can’t be.

The Big Bro
Kevin is my bro, and not just because he’s black. He’s a little older and wiser, and provides me the perspective I need on whatever current drama or lack thereof my love life is.  He looks out for me, and won’t have me settling for some passive, indecisive clown, but will also provide the male point of view on things like basic communication and giving guys a fair shot.  He also has this amazing way of pointing out where I’m wrong in the gentlest way possible.  He once observed that I wore my singleness with shame, and that instead I should be proud of the way I’ve used my time.  In that same breath, he reminded me there’s no limit to what God can do for me and on my behalf.  Translation: Stop feeling sorry for yourself and start trusting God.  But it sounded nothing like that.  Those are the kind, corrective words of a Big Bro.

The Dating Coach
Fabian is my dating coach.  He is the rare guy that will provide all of these things when I ask for his counsel: the norm for guys, what he would do and the range of guy responses.  Most of my guy friends will make broad, blanket statements about guys based entirely on themselves or they’ll be like girl friends who encourage you to hold onto a hopeless situation.  Fabian also repeatedly reminds me of my worth, that I shouldn’t settle for someone who doesn’t get that and has hope that I'll find it when I'm all out of hope.  That is also a rare dude quality: He believes in me and can say it, even when times are tough.  He’s the best.

The Devoted Buddy
Justin is my devoted buddy.  He may be outspoken and at times downright insensitive, but he isn’t afraid to express his genuine value for me as a person and for our friendship.  He also knows when to limit his words or not to talk. When Hideo passed away, he sat with me in the middle of a restaurant and listened and while I cried, and he just let me be sad in that moment - rare dude behavior.  His only response was one of empathy - reminded of a difficult loss in his own family. If I am ever really in need and Justin is able to do something about it, I know that he wouldn’t hesitate to do it.  He’s just that kind of a friend.

The Gay Buddy
Jose is my gay buddy.  I can talk to him about boys, and he both gets it as a guy and as someone who likes guys.  He can help me with all my handyman needs, and can be a big protector, but we can also laugh about being wusses compared to the likes of Starbuck on Battlestar Galactica.  Everyone needs a Jose.

The Younger Bro
Eric is my little bro.  He is actually only a couple of years younger than me in age, but if I ever had a biological younger brother, he would be it.  We are wired very similarly, so I understand how he thinks and what he’s going through. He can also argue and piss me off in a way only my flesh and blood sisters can.  He comes to me for advice about girls, he lets me freak out about guys I'm interested in, and we cheer each other on.  I hope some girl discovers what a caring, committed gem he is.  

Though I've been single for more years than I had hoped or thought I would be, I can't deny that I've always had men in my life to remind me that I'm cherished, enjoyed and valued for who I am. I can fully be myself around them, no holds barred, and know that I'll never be turned away. I am reminded of God's provision for me no matter how long I remain single, because of my beloved bros.

My Vows (to all Singles)

I've been to a lot of weddings lately, and my longest running relationships to date are with many of my close single friends out there.  To all of my fellow single sisters, if God should ever will that I leave this state of singlehood, I make these solemn vows to you for as long I shall live:

I promise to never suggest you date a guy purely for his singleness -- disregarding compatibility issues such as age, personality type and personal issues -- whether he be attractive or unattractive, while I myself am dating.  I promise not to make insensitive side comments about "what a catch" a single man is in your presence, creating an awkward situation by which you feel the need to respond about why you aren't into him.  I promise to only make suggestions and set-ups with your explicit permission and otherwise not make any kind of intrusive remarks about your singleness.

I promise to be sensitive and aware of any and public displays of affection, especially when you are the only single person present, thereby making you feel uncomfortable and hyper-aware of your singleness.

I promise to not disappear in my relationship and lose touch with you, my single friends, leaving you to conclude that couples and marrieds will only socialize with other couples and marrieds.

I promise to never downplay the hopelessness and frustration you feel or make you feel like there's something very wrong with you for still being single. Instead, I promise to listen to how hard this can be as it comes up and try to encourage you with the truths that have encouraged and kept me going in the past.

I promise not to excessively gloat or gush over my significant other around you.

I promise to value and weigh in your input on my relationship, and never make you feel like you have less to offer me.

I promise never to joke about or laugh at any and all jokes that fall in the "singles vs. marrieds" category at church.  I will also never joke the decay of fertility, or about the subject of age at all.

I promise to encourage you with reminders of the freedoms you have as a single person and help you fully embrace the amazing season that it is.  I promise to be transparent about my own life as I have been in the past, as it pertains to my relationship as well.

I promise to try as much as appropriate to encourage other perennially single but eligible men to realize their hurdles against finding one of dozens of perfectly attractive and awesome women out there, and try to empower them to do something about it.

I promise to suffer with you in sickness, celebrate with you in health, just as I did as a fellow single person.

These are my solemn vows to you.

The Interview Process

As it turns out, I have somehow found myself in a season of hunting. As per my last post, a new car has already been on the brain. Now added to the list through a combination of events and overall feeling: a job.

For myself and the millions of others job-hunting, we can all attest: the interview process is exhausting. Like being a student where the course material is never 100% mastered, the job applicant ensues on a lifestyle of constant scouring of online listings and networking events and a process of submit and wait, submit and wait.  You feel like you're going nowhere, and you're never done.

As I consider the next step in my career path, I find that this time of searching and wondering what's next is true across the areas of my life.  "No strings, no connections" could mean you're fancy free, or it could mean you're just plain lost.

In addition, the interview process is much like dating.  You see a job listing that sounds perfect for you. You send a signal -- your resume -- and hope for a response.  If you're lucky, you get a call back.  You go on that first interview, and can feel immediately that you just don't get each other or perhaps that you feel some sort of spark.  Could this company like you enough to call you a second time?  Are they as excited about you as you are about them?  What was with all the mixed messages about if or when you'd hear from them again?  And what do I want anyway - is this the perfect fit for me?  Is there such a thing?

The priority order right now: 1. Job  2. Car  3. Man?

The Greatest Car of All Time

11 years ago, I bought a new used silver 1999 Toyota Corolla CE.  I had my eye on models 1999 and newer, searching Penny Saver ads (do those even exist anymore?) to local and not-so-local dealers to test drive from Long Beach to the Valley.  Then, in January of 2001, I set my sights on this car at Longo Toyota of El Monte, smooth-talking, haggling man-friend in tow, and got myself a deal.  Though I've never thought of my car as a person, for the purposes of this story, I will heretofore refer to my car as Maxine, a name my friend Samantha helped come up with for it years ago.

About 5 years into owning Maxine, I started getting interested buyers.  I saw an ad from my Toyota dealer soliciting purchase of this car, stating that it was high in demand.  A random valet gave me his contact info in case I ever decided to sell it.  But I had made this no-frills, economical purchase in the first place knowing she had a long lifespan and would take me for years through the congested streets and backed-up freeways of LA.  I was committed for the long haul.

A few years ago, I started feeling antsy.  Though I could tell she wasn't about to quit anytime soon, Maxine was definitely getting along in her years.  Newer car models -- including the Corolla itself -- were being built differently and with sturdier constitutions.  If the wind blows a little too hard, I feel as though I might get blown away, Wizard of Oz-style.  I started getting annoyed with her 120 horsepower engine's slow pickup and broken CD player, and paying for upkeep and repairs started to feel a bit more painful with each passing year.

Now, 11 years and 136,000 miles later (she came with 32K miles on her), I'm finally starting to think about getting a new car.  Maxine still isn't on her death bed, but the time is starting to feel right.  My last oil change resulted in almost $400 worth of necessary replacements (a girl's gotta have brake pads on her car) and more repairs pending: leaky this and that, torn wiper blades, spark plugs, battery.  My repair guy simply stated, "The car's just old and has 160,000 miles on it."

Ironically, as I'm reaching the point of readiness to peacefully let go of Maxine, she's been getting another recent wave of admirers.  A guy at the counter commented, "I love your car," and I was certain he must have been looking at the wrong one.  But he proceeded to extole the virtues of that generation of Corollas.  Just last night I attended a work event at an upscale boutique hotel in Santa Monica and as I left, the valet asked me what year my car was.  Unprepared for this, I asked him to repeat his question.  I told him it was a 1999, and he replied, "It's good."  

Lately, as I've thought about it, I actually feel sad at the prospect of parting ways with Maxine.  The car's been with me through the most significant chapter of my life: young adulthood.  I will always remember the times she gave Hideo a ride, both in his days as active, fun-loving DJ and friend struggling with cancer.  I'll remember taking her to Scratch/REHAB for all of those semesters of classes, and cramming her with my turntables and gear for my most meaningful DJ gigs.  I'll remember the guys who rode in the car that I swore I'd end up with happily ever after.  She drove me to weddings and funerals of loved ones, and was there through the ups and downs of my mid-20s to 30s.  But as with everything, there is a season.  And this one is coming to an end.

Though homes and cars are in the end just empty spaces, we unknowingly, unintentionally fill them with memories everyday, some more meaningful than others.  At the beginning of my time with Maxine, I was a know-it-all twenty-something (as all twenty-somethings are) convinced I knew the map to my life ahead.  I was wrong.  My most recent years have been characterized by loss and an odd contrast of very little change externally but dramatic change around and within me, and an overall sense of disorientation I'm only lately emerging from.  And now, I feel a growing desire to move on.

Incidentally, I think what that means for Maxine is that this is shaping up to be our last year together.  Witnesses over the years affirm her value as a reliable vehicle, and I look back with fondness and a bit of wistfulness at our more than 10 years together echoing the words of my valet last night, "It's good."  Whatever my next ride will be, it's got some serious miles to fill.

(Max's flat tire episode circa 2008)

Top 10 Reasons I May Be a Cylon

10. I have always been partial to sleek, silver vehicles.
9.   I have a high value for communal mission.
8.   I'm a sensitive Korean who gets fiercely attached to people.
7.   I love Helo and would totally have his babies.
6.   I find myself struggling to do what I feel compelled (or programmed?) to vs. what I know is right.
5.   I sometimes feel there are only a few of my kind left in the world.
4.   I believe in the one true God, both sovereign and loving over all.
3.   Based on the previous point, I am very familiar with being the object of the crazy stare and negative assumptions.
2.   I, too, sometimes think it wouldn't be a bad idea to wipe out the human race for one big do-over.
1.   I would love to call Admiral Adama my boss. And fear it at the same time.