Obama and the Unexpected

This year, my best birthday wish came from my friend Kevin, who wrote to me, "May God bless you this year in so many ways that you don't expect."

The words speak directly to the law of diminishing returns between expectations and age. As each year goes by, and certain hopes are continually deferred, I need to be reminded that God can surprise me with just what I need when I least expect it. And that sometimes it only takes a moment for things to change entirely, one way or another -- for better or for worse.

A few months ago, when it became clear that Barack Obama would be the next Democratic candidate for President, I had an odd reaction. I had voted for him in the primaries, and been a strong supporter, but realized in that moment that I had a very low expectation that he would actually get the nomination in the end. Obama was the least likely to succeed, even against a woman (though I can't not mention the political power and race card for Hilary). I found that I had hoped for and supported something I deep down thought was surely a lost cause.

But tomorrow night, Obama will officially accept the nomination of the Democratic party. And at this point, it's very possible he'll be elected the first Black president of this country, and the first candidate I've felt excited about maybe in my lifetime. To me, the hard part was beating Hilary. And when that happened, I felt strangely challenged to believe that anything could happen -- whether in the face of my utter lack of faith in the American people or my subtler lack of faith in areas of my own life that I want to hope for, but deep down find myself thinking are lost causes.

Though I have experienced unexpected things on the painful or disappointing end this year, I am fighting hard to get to a place where the deeper places of my heart that have given up will be revived and catch up with the hopes I still haven't lost in my head.

The Narrow Road

It is a terrible feeling when you realize you have given someone too much credit. It means that a person you trusted and respected on some level has disappointed you, and lost that relationship to you. Though it doesn't necessarily mean the end of a friendship, it does inevitably mean an adjustment to who they really are. I think in general I want to believe in the best in people, and sometimes this gets me into trouble. 

But if there's one thing I've learned about people -- both men and women, it's that as much as we want to believe that age and time bring about the same results for all, that is not the case. Growth is a choice, not a given.  It's a choice we make or don't make everyday.  And as time goes on and days add up of choosing or not choosing to deal with yourself, you reach your 30s and suddenly the difference between two people's cumulative choices becomes startling. Dynamics and issues you gladly left behind years ago are ever-present for someone else.

I'm glad for the choices I've made that have made me the person I am today, different from who I was 10 years ago.  But I don't forget that much of that growth has come the hard way. And so as I pick myself up and dust myself off, I'm determined to choose to grow from my circumstances rather than let myself shrivel into a bitter, jaded woman of 32.  Bitterness and jadedness were so last decade...for me.

That Olympic Moment

I have always been a sucker for medals ceremonies. Nothing gets me choked up like watching someone get something they have worked so hard for.  Whether the obvious glory of Michael Phelps, once an awkward student picked on in school now being called the greatest athlete in the world, or the quieter story of 33-year old gymnast Oksana Chusovitina, who has continued competing over the years just to financially support her son's leukemia treatments and just won a bronze for Germany, there are amazing stories of beating the odds for a full two weeks. 

But part of the excitement of the Olympics is never knowing what will happen. The very same athletes who are favorites to win gold could lose in just a moment.  The most talented, disciplined and amazingly strong people of the world are at their super-human best and very human worst.

As I watched my favorite gymnast, Shawn Johnson, win at her last chance at gold for the women's individual medal for balance beam, I found myself longing for the day when I can look back and see the fruit of hard decisions or circumstances in my life. When asked what standing on that medal podium with a gold was like, commentator and former Olympian Tim Daggot said all you think about are the failures, the struggles that brought you there and the many times you could have quit, and how all of it is worth that one moment where you've reached that goal.  I guess only the suffering makes the glory real and fully understood.

I hope that someday I can stand before God and many witnesses to how I well lived my life, rather than look back with a regretful list of getting caught up with things that didn't really matter, or only served myself in the end. A medal for hoping against all odds, or helping people know they are fully enjoyed and loved, or perseverance in trusting God even when it felt terribly lonely -- those are medals that would make me cry on the podium.  

No Words Required

I love my family very much, but they have never been ones to deal well with any sort of pain. But I've said it before, and I'll say it again: I'm one blessed girl when it comes to my friends. If ever I find myself feeling kicked to the curb, I know exactly who to go to. Sometimes all you need is to sit with someone that you know is feeling you, no words required. With a knowledge and love for me that comes from much conversation, prayer, laughter and tears over the years, I can share a brief summary of either disappointment or celebration, and they know just what it means to me. And at times when I have only questions and few words about a circumstance, it sure is nice to be understood.

Listen to Your Soundtrack

Sometimes the songs you are drawn to during a particular period reveal what is going on for you at a deeper level.  Maybe if I had paid better attention to my soundtrack, I would have guarded my heart a little better.  Right now, these are the songs I keep repeating on my iPod:

"Between the Lines" - Sarah Bareilles

"Hold Me Now" - Kirk Franklin

"32 Flavors" - Ani DiFranco

"I Turn to You" - Christina Aguilera

"No One is To Blame" - Howard Jones

"Cigarettes and Chocolate Milk" - Rufus Wainwright

"Just the Way You Are" - Billy Joel

In the midst of disappointmen, there's also a little hope thrown in some of those song lyrics.  I think that's a good thing.

The Worst Part

I have never been one of those people who could pretend nothing was the matter. I might be able to fool people for a few minutes who don't know me very well. But as I walked around today with what felt like a lead weight in my chest, I tried to avoid most conversation and eye contact -- for anyone who really knows me, this isn't very me behavior.

But the worst part is not even that, in 6th grade terms, the boy I like likes someone else. Or that this girl epitomizes everything I strive not to be. The worst part is that I was so wrong in my judge of character yet again, and find myself in an all too familiar place I swore I'd never be again. In the movie "Singles," Campbell Scott's character experiences rejection and processes aloud, "I trusted my instincts and I was wrong... Wrong, the opposite of right." 

And although I can learn more lessons from this round, down for the count once again, and continue to comb through where my judgment derailed, at a certain point I also know that sometimes hurt just happens.  It is the inevitable risk you run when you put your heart out there.  

I'm confident that my past experiences and lessons will help me get through this round faster, though there's a lot to work through. Someday, even this shall pass. But for today, the many questions felt like one big rock in my heart.

Denial, the Long Running River

It's never easy to be shaken out of something you had hoped for, no matter how much you have tried to stay level-headed about it.

I had my hopes dashed today about someone I had ventured to open my heart just a little bit to. And though I had been asking for a sign about it from God, I was in no way prepared for the answer, as much as I had convinced myself that I was. Sometimes it's only when you get a negative answer that you are forced to admit how invested you got in an unsure thing.

Still, I have to admit that my own attraction to the guy you can't read is somewhat responsible. Though I wanted to believe I had been cured, here I am again on the other side wondering how I missed the signs -- everything always clearer in hindsight.

One thing is clear: When a guy chooses someone so completely the opposite of you, you have to breathe somewhat of a sigh of relief. If that's what he wanted all along, he never would have loved and appreciated the things you have grown to love and appreciate about yourself. And that is not someone you could ever be happy with.

But the rubble of disappointment remains. I have to believe that God will be with me once again to pick up the pieces, and heal me again.

32: The No Mores

Over the weekend, I DJ-ed what I decided will be my last wedding for a while. When I realized I couldn't remember the last time I've been to a wedding as a normal guest, I knew it was time. No more going to weddings I wouldn't otherwise attend. No more skipping the ceremony because I'd rather not feel like I've worked the entire day. No more dealing with feedback from people who aren't used to talking on a mike. No more taking requests for swing music I don't have (do people still do that?). And no more lugging my heavy Technics to and from my little Corolla.

Coincidentally, I also turn 32 today. And I have a growing list of other "no mores" as I get older. No more taking drama from highly insecure people. No more trying to control things that I can't. No more feeling bad about not being the typical Asian woman, or trying to be someone I'm not. No more fooling myself into seeing people for who they are not. No more second-guessing my ability to make good decisions for myself, with a little help from my friends. And no more fear of suffering. It will come just as surely as the good times will.

Although we never think of the word "no" as a word that frees us, I have found that these No Mores have made me breathe a little more freely. The boundaries have fallen in pleasant places.

Single Person Pet Peeve

Over the past few years, I have found myself the victim of email forwards of a certain kind that tops my pet peeve list: dating advice. Friends, family, journalists, Oprah -- everyone seems to feel the need to give their advice about settling or never settling, having standards or letting them go, having more self-respect or being more accomodating, and on and on and on. Really, there are a few basic principles on repeat over and over again -- all things I've learned myself from firsthand experience, and things that anyone struggling with can only learn the hard way. I have one response: Delete.

No disrespect to the writers and people out there who want to pass on the gospel message of freedom from codependence or independence or whatnot, and you might argue I'm doing the same thing with my blog. The problem is, singleness is a similar-but-different experience for everyone, and the person who is a right match for any one person will fit different criteria for each. That's the blankin' dilemma of it all -- there's no knowing for sure if something will work out until it works out. If only it was as easy as following the Greg Behrendt or Oprah set path where we could at least know for sure which direction we were headed. And while I appreciate the good intentions of all those giving advice, and I'm a strong believer in seeking input from those you trust and respect, I also believe that there is an equally large degree we just need to work it for ourselves. And if or when the time comes for me, I'll be calling those trusted friends, not Mr. Behrendt.

The Problem with Beyonce

Just as people claim "you are what you eat," one might also argue "you are who you like." Meaning, I think the people we are attracted to say a lot about who we are underneath it all. For example, my past preoccupation with emotionally unavailable men who couldn't commit said that I was actually too afraid of a real relationship to find someone who was actually capable of one, and that I was more concerned with getting some sense of validation from getting Mr. Hard-to-Get.

The other day, a friend of mine shared that she had been realizing a subtle form of discrimination that she has encountered since choosing to be a part of communities and ministries that consist mostly of people not her ethnic group. Though there is much talk about racial reconciliation, her observation was that there are few who have considered her or other Black women as romantic options, revealing a level of racism still there. And understandably: well-known Black celebrity beauties like Beyonce or Tyra Banks look very little like the average Black woman, and have more European features they purposefully accentuate.

As we chatted, I realized that the "personal preference" card only can be played to a certain level in the game of dating. What lies underneath that is our issues and what we really value. My heart broke for my friend's experience of being unseen by the majority of men in her life. It also made me realize again how much our culture -- specifically here in L.A. -- worships the idols of beauty on the big screen. No average woman -- Black, white, Asian or otherwise -- will ever measure up. Sure, we all escape to the movies sometimes and admire the Brad Pitts and Angelina Jolies from afar for their very un-average looks and overall charm or image. But how many of us remember who they really are when we leave the theater: a man who justified breaking his marriage vows in infidelity and a woman with some serious Dad issues? In our world, a pretty face and a nice body cover a multitude of sins.

It can be disheartening to see the men around us who claim to love things that are real and lasting, but are actually fixed on fantasy crushes or ideals that have little to do with the real life mess we actually all are. And women do it too. It sucks either way. But despite that totally accepted idolatry that exists around us, I believe that God can do anything, and is the champion of those that the world overlooks. What man intends for evil, God intends for good. Someone -- not Brad Pitt or Christian Bale -- may still come along someday and see me for who I really am. And really like it.


(I looked through scores of photos online and could not find a one of Beyonce with her natural hair.)