No Sex in the City

The Real (Happy?) Ending

2011-09-29T19:12:00.000-07:00

Mindy Kaling recently wrote a hilarious article for The New Yorker about her secret love for romantic comedy films, likening the genre to sci-fi in their farfetched, unrealistic depictions of falling in love. She proceeded to form a glossary of the different female archetypes found in the very limited canon of story types the genre espouses.

To piggyback on this idea, I think there are common plotlines found in the movies that are rarely to be found in real life. Here are a few that I have come to accept will never happen:

Watts vs. Amanda Jones

One of my favorite rom-coms growing up was the John Hughes classic, "Some Kind of Wonderful." I so identified with tomboy best friend, Watts, played by Mary Stuart Masterson. The movie's lesson is that despite the fact that Watts commonly gets mistaken for a boy, prides herself in not wearing a bra and starts treating her best friend Keith like dirt as a reaction against her own feelings for him, she somehow gets the boy in the end. Even after Keith has a tender moment of connecting with his longtime crush, beautiful Amanda Jones played by Leah Thompson. Not gonna happen.

The Opposite Theory

Let's go back to John Hughes, definer of my generation's teen romance flicks. The original story of "Pretty in Pink" (yes, I read the paperback novel in my obsession with this movie) has a surprisingly realistic conclusion where main character Andy Walsh, from the wrong side of town, does NOT end up with rich boy love interest Blane McDonough. He ditches her at prom for a girl more like himself with money and from the right side of the train tracks. When Andy arrives at prom, she finds her doting friend Duckie there to rescue her from humiliation and they have a blast in the face of all the rich kids judging them. However, the film version changes the very key end of the movie to bring Andy and Blane together in true Hollywood fairytale fashion. They just couldn't stomach putting the sad truth on screen, that like sticks to like and the girl with a disadvantage usually doesn't get the guy.

One Wrong Makes a Right

The plotline is simple: Unlucky-in-love girl with a heart of gold has become closed off to relationships from being hurt one too many times. And by one too many times, it usually means once in a bad way. But the truth is, a girl can go through an almost identical scenario multiple times over the course of a decade. It looks a little more like this: Closed-Off, Self-Protective Girl meets boy, girl and boy connect and become good friends, girl gets excited about finally opening her heart to someone, girl finds out boy is dating another girl.

Hollywood is bad for the heart. It creates its own laws of nature that can mislead poor suckers like myself on a lifelong process of undoing expectations. But the other thing Hollywood has wrong is its paralyzing fear of imperfection and disappointment. The movies don't tell you that the complicated girl usually doesn't get the guy, that opposites usually don't attract, or that painful scenarios can play out multiple times for no apparent reason. But the movies also don't tell you that strength and perspective often only come through great disappointment. After Conan O'Brien's dramatic departure from "The Tonight Show" and almost 2-decade relationship with NBC, he said, "There are few things more liberating in this life than having your worst fear realized." But he was only able to say this in retrospect, after going through depression and the most difficult time of his professional life, a year later.

As I wrestle with my own disappointment of the day, it doesn't hurt any less than it did the first time. And it's just as confusing. But I no longer wait for the Hollywood ending that I know will not come in 2 hours. Or ever. Instead, I live in the reality where things are broken-record broken, but will be redeemed. Someday, I'll have a real story full of pain and awfulness and amazing restoration, with a true happy ending. The hard part is waiting for it. By the grace of God, I'll get there.

Reflections on 35

2011-08-07T22:01:00.000-07:00

In a few days, I turn 35. On that same day, I leave for Japan for a 2-week missions service project. Though I didn't plan anything for my birthday this year - partly due to the distraction of preparing for my trip, partly due to the not wanting to acknowledge turning another year older - I had three delicious birthday dinners this weekend in what I like to call Birthday Face Stuffing 2011.

In the wake of my 35th year of life as we know it, I'm reminded of a few things...

1 - I love my friends. I walked back very contentedly from my dinner at new LA restaurant Son of a Gun and thought this to myself. I am convinced I know the best people in the world, and I love them with all of my heart. They insisted we celebrate my birthday when I was ready to let it pass me by. They laugh at my jokes, they cry with me, they put up with my outspokenness and penchant for the dramatic. They are the best.
2 - I love my life. I'm so aware that each day is a precious gift to me. I live in beautiful LA, and God has provided me everything I need.
3 - Getting older is not a bad thing. Although I may struggle with this more frequently than I'd like to admit, there is a wisdom and perspective I'm learning to love and embrace with every year that passes. As I write this blog entry, 1986 movie "Stand By Me" is playing on cable. I loved this movie as a kid, but as an adult the story of adolescence, friendship and death even more touching and delightful. I have gone from relating to young Gordy to relating to old writer Gordy.

I'm taking a deep breath. Ready for another year.

Something Old, Something New

2011-07-04T23:25:00.000-07:00

Last night, the ladies of the La Salle house enjoyed one last evening of celebration in a most appropriate way: a wedding. After 4 years together under the same roof, seeing one another through deaths, breakups, personal crises and victories, we emerged each of us different people than we were in 2007 - for better or for worse. After celebrating, 4 of us returned to the hotel, one less for our married roommate. Instead of going right to bed - as we were certainly tired enough to do - we spent some time on the beautiful hotel patio, all aware that is was our last time together.

Having returned home today, this week I lose another another roommate moving to Seattle for grad school, and another couple of dear friends relocating to Boston. This totals at 4 goodbyes in one week.

I think I'm getting better at this. I've known this mass exodus was coming for months now. But I have said goodbye many times before, in some cases slowly and gradually and other times abruptly with no warning. I have crossed a threshold somewhere along the way, where I understand life will always include some element of loss. We can't hold onto everything just as it was, perfect in memory. Instead every moment has its moment, every time its season. New ones will continue to replace the ones that end, but there is a time for every purpose under heaven. Coming out of last year, I feel this lesson is fresh. And just as I know I'll be eager to reunite with these friends I'm used to seeing everyday or week, I look forward to a time when all that has ended will begin new again.

What new season awaits me? I have no idea, but I don't want to miss it. But unlike other forks in the road I've encountered, I long for a fresh start of my own even as I dread the goodbyes to my friends. I'm starting to believe that the best is yet to come.

Farewell, 2010

2011-01-01T03:17:00.000-08:00

As it turns out, my New Year's Eve ended up fairly low-key. I made it to two of the three parties I intended to go to, spending most of my time at my house with a small bunch of friends. There were others on my heart and mind though, that I would have loved to be with for my favorite holiday of the year.

At the stroke of midnight, Dick Clark ushered in the New Year as he has every year for decades now. Successor Ryan Seacrest performed main duties as master of ceremonies. Dick still had the honor of counting down the final seconds, but age and a stroke have made it difficult for him to speak as freely. Afterwards, Far East Movement kicked off the after-party concert. FM used to hang around REHAB/Scratch Academy and help man the registers. They've come a long way. It was one of those moments realizing things have changed.

It is with mixed feelings that I ring in this new year. I say farewell to the last year Hideo lived to see, but also welcome in a new year of the changes that have happened since - both in my own growth and in the relationships around me. People - like the years - have come and gone, and will continue to do so. I think 2011 will be about regaining my footing on things that last, finding a new way to hope.

Though a bit more melancholy than in years past, I welcome this new year as a gift that will unfold all the way through December 31. I think I'm a bit more ready for this one.

Miracle of a Baby

2010-10-25T23:22:00.000-07:00

Last week I had the delight of meeting Gabriella Grace Lowe. She was born just one month ago, and is about the size of a large football when she's curled up.

I have never been much of a baby person. They are cute, I like to hold them for a while, and then I'm fine giving them back to Mom. But Gaby arrived into the world at a particular moment for me. This year has been marked by death - 3 loved ones of my house passed away within 6 months. I am still working through my own grief (as are my roommates), and not a day has gone by without my thinking of my friend.

So when I met Gaby, I was amazed by this tiny little girl, created by God - the giver of life. She's beautiful and helpless and already so loved. God breathed life into this girl, formed her in her mother's womb, and knows all of the days of her life that are before her. And according to scripture, there is no death, only inevitable departure from this world for another reality.

Aside from the dear friends her parents have been to me, Gaby will be special to me for reminding me in painful death that God is in fact the life-giver.

3.6 Miles

2010-07-30T00:15:00.000-07:00

Unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. --John 12:24

This week, I went on my first good run since the half-marathon in March, since I went to Spain and most notably since Hideo passed away. I strongly believe that distance running is 90% mental, 10% physical. Anyone with two functioning legs can run. Whether you want to or for how long depends entirely on state of mind.

For 3 months, my state of mind has been stuck. Reeling from the shock of losing a good friend much sooner than I was prepared to sent me into a tailspin.

But as I move through my grieving process, I have mysteriously been met by God. It became clear that the loss of Hideo was the final straw in a series of emotional losses over the past couple of years. I had managed to put those others away on a shelf. But when Hideo died, there was no putting it away. Even still, there's not a day that goes by without him crossing my mind multiple times. All of my deepest fears about life, the people I love, my future, and God came flooding to the surface. Was there really life after death? What hope is there for my friends who have chosen different life paths? What hope is there for me, either here or beyond? What's the point of it all?

I always applied that scripture from John in the context of people in ministry who are suffering for the sake of loving other people. But Hideo never knew Jesus in his life here, and yet somehow his death has born a harvest of gratefulness and love in those that knew him and resulted in what may be the most significant breakthrough in my own relationship with God. Through the course of digging up those emotions I had put away for so long, and truly being honest with God about it all, I have let him talk to me for the first time in a long time. And for the first time in a long time, I listened.

I wish Hideo knew what a significant impact he's had on my life, both during and after he lived. If he was here, I'd tell him what a joy it has been getting to know his sister and other close friends. I'd want him to know how much he's grown my hope in the kingdom of God, and my understanding that no matter what or who I lose, my true home will always be with Jesus. I'd thank him, and I'd tell him I miss him.

3.6 miles is not a long distance compared to what I could do just a few months ago. But after many recent attempts to get through short distances and still feeling utterly wiped at the end, I finally got my runner's high back. I'm turning a corner, I hope...

At the Beat Swap Meet, selling items from the personal collection of DJ Hideo.

Remember the Time

2010-07-19T21:29:00.000-07:00

Corinne Bailey Rae released an album this year - her first since her successful debut in 2006 and since her husband suddenly passed away from an accidental overdose three years ago. In the first song, she says: "Are you here? 'Cause my heart recalls that it all seems the same, it all feels the same."

It is strange to me that though a person may be gone, we can so clearly remember things about them -- so much that it can seem for a moment they are still with us. I'll never forget the sound of Midi's voice or her laugh, or Hideo's huge smile and his way of finishing sentences with "ya know'I mean?"

As I am putting together a memory book of Hideo for his daughter, I am reminded of the many things about him that blessed other people. And I'm glad to remember, as much as it pains me to be reminded of his absence. I've felt a sense of urgency to remember and not forget -- to not lose the only things I have left of him: memories.

I love that in scripture, to remember is such a big deal to God. He remembers a prayer and answers it, or saves a loved one, or blesses a nation. He says over and again, "I will remember..." and calls us to remember what he's done as well. He knows that our memory is a powerful thing. It can sometimes paralyze us in some traumatic experience, or it can give perspective to our present and give us the strength to keep going into our future.

In the meantime, it's hard not to think about where those loved ones are now. Are they in a state of sleep? Have they entered another realm? Are they able to interact with others who have passed on, or are they confronting only Jesus, face to face? Have Hideo and Midi met and bonded over their Japanese last names, then discovered they both grew up in Torrance and both knew me? Have they met Grandma, or Sam's sister, or Debbie's father, or 2Pac?

There is no answering of these questions until I get there myself. Perhaps someday we'll look back and remember this distant time here on earth -- the lessons learned, the things we had no idea about, the experiences of joy and heartbreak and grieving and longing. I think for some of those memories, I'll be okay to let go.

LOST, for now (spoiler alert)

2010-05-24T22:12:00.000-07:00

Last night was the series finale of LOST, the six-year saga of castaways from a plane crash to an island shrouded in mystery. Over that time, almost every episode brought about a whole new batch of questions: What was this mysterious power of the island? Why were these seemingly random people oddly connected before they even boarded the plane? How would the skeletons in their closet of broken relationships, personal failures and tragic disappointments get resolved?

The conclusion left much unanswered. But what does get revealed is a parallel reality for the main characters, where they are given the chance to make the choices they couldn't make in real life. And specifically, we understand that almost the entire complicated story of supernatural beings, time travel and lonely people were all side stories to that of the main protagonist, Jack. When the show ends, he is finally able to let go of his disappointment in himself and his failures in a last act of self-sacrifice for those he loves. As he is greeted by his dead father and the people he loved into some sort of eternity, I watched and cried like a baby.

It has been one month since Hideo passed away, and I've thought about him everyday since. Over the weekend, his loved ones celebrated what would have been his 43rd birthday with an old-school party, the way he would have loved. I have felt more and more peace and acceptance of this life without Hideo, but I don't think I'll ever not feel that missing part in my heart.

Coincidentally, Hideo first lent me season 1 of LOST a few years ago and introduced me to the show. As much as the show had its share of ridiculous plot turns, we learn in the end that the fantastical world of the island was all in fact real. I wonder what reality we live in right now, that often feels so much like the only one that could exist because it's the only one we've known. We live with our day-to-day joys and pains, and we fall in love with the people around us: our dear friends and family. And when we lose them, there's no way to not wonder what all of the carefully placed chaos and joy and people we encounter are all heading towards.

What I appreciated about LOST -- the finale being no exception -- was that creators Jeffrey Lieber and Damon Lindelof thought to imagine a world outside of ours, and a reality much greater than what we can control. Though there is no mention of God, their imagination asked what the answer might be to the damage about our world. In Paul's letter to the Ephesians, he calls God "able to accomplish abundantly far more than we can ask or imagine." What they could ask and imagine is one day letting go of this reality and reuniting with lost loved ones, the prospect of which I can't even imagine the joy I might feel.

I hope for that new day when all of the mourning is over, and I'm blown away by a reality none of us could imagine possible.

Westside 'Til I Die

2010-05-02T01:06:00.000-07:00

On Friday evening, during its 2-hour traffic time block, KDAY 93.5 FM aired a tribute to DJ Hideo: his last recorded set. I made sure to leave work at 4:55 so as not to miss a minute of this. I started my car and immediately I heard a brief summary of Hideo's influence on the hip-hop music scene in LA and on the airwaves at 100.3 FM The Beat. And with the very first song, Mark Morrison's "Return of the Mack," I suddenly felt as though he was right there in his element: spinning his favorite party jams and West Coast favorites - a set he would be remembered by. I could see him so clearly in my mind doing it, picturing his way of adjusting the platter, scratching and immaculately transitioning songs, adjusting his EQ, moving with grace and joy to the music. Heavy D, Lighter Shade of Brown, SWV, LL Cool J, 2Pac, Biggie, DJ Kool, MC Breed, Naughty, By Nature, Paperboy, Soul 4 Real, the list goes on. It was a classic Hideo set. He loved the old skool.

I texted a few friends I thought would be interested and who might be on the road to listen to notify them of the set, and got responses back: "Listening now!" "I never met him, but I feel myself tearing up." One friend tuned in with family, and updated me that they were dancing to the music. In addition to the many DJ friends I had who I knew were listening to every move of the set, tweeting their emotions through it to the rest of us, my own close friends were listening because they knew what a rough week this has been for me, and have carried this burden with me the last 14 months.

In that moment, I felt God comforting me through the music I knew we were all both mourning and celebrating to at once. I felt a strange mix of happiness and heartbreak. I remember Hideo mentioning a couple of months ago that he had been recording a bit, which I couldn't even imagine in his condition. I think he was preparing for this time, and somehow knew that this would be a comfort to his friends and his own reminder to us of what DJ-ing is all about: the love of the music. It has been a rough week, but suddenly I felt inspired to spin again. I spent a good part of today just putting songs together that I love. I wanted to honor my friend and his heart for music.

I'm so grateful that in a week of grieving, God has surrounded me with the amazing people I get to call my friends. A special shout-out to Jason, Gregg, Carlos, Pastor Ken, Debbie, Eric, Helen and Jade. Most of them have never even met Hideo, but God has given them a heart to pray for him and his family because they love me. Though I must accept that I will not see Hideo again in this life, I have felt God reminding me through these guys that he is real and with me, and that the reality of something better awaits. I have a road ahead of me as I continue to accept life without Hideo, but I won't be doing it alone.

Goodbyes

2010-04-27T15:20:00.000-07:00

I spent the last 9 days in Barcelona, Girona, Madrid, Toledo and Segovia. It was a marathon whirlwind of delicious food, charming cityscapes and extremely hospitable people. Yesterday morning (which in Madrid was more like 30 hours ago), I said goodbye to my friend Michelle who would be returning to Bangkok for at least another 2 1/2 years. I may see her if she visits the states in between, but her address will remain on the other side of the world for now.

At the end of this week, my friend Lisa will be moving up north to live with her family and work for at least a year. Lisa and I have become much closer in the last several months, and I've been so grateful for the wholehearted way she has welcomed me into her life. I will miss her much, and hope for frequent visiting.

On route home from Spain, I regained connection to my world here and the first thing I learned was that my friend Hideo had passed away 2 days before - on Saturday, April 24. In less than a month he would have turned 43.

I have known Hideo has had cancer since the doctors discovered it last February. Though it was an advanced stage 4, there was some hope at the time that he might overcome the disease, as he had a lot going for him - his youth and his infectiously hopeful spirit. Just a couple of weeks ago, he texted me that he didn't plan on leaving this life anytime soon, he just needed to get his energy back. I think I let myself believe it because the alternative was too painful.

But as time went by, I knew deep down that it was likely he wouldn't last through this calendar year. His cancer was continually growing, and the different chemotherapy treatments ineffective. Perhaps he knew as well, as his expressions of gratefulness and love to his friends grew more frequent with each visit.

Words can't express the effect Hideo had on my life. He was one of the most unselfish, humble and caring people I've known, only the more remarkable for his being a well-known, highly skilled and experienced DJ. He never considered himself above anyone else, and was all about giving and enjoying life. As the disbelief melts away, I find my heart breaking at the loss of my good friend.

Still, knowing that the physical pain of the last few months of Hideo's life is gone is something I do feel glad for. Though Hideo didn't know Jesus, I do believe I'll see him in the Holy City one day again, and that even now he is in a much better place than this world. God, remember me for Hideo.

I miss you, my friend. And it will be very hard for us to learn to live life here without you.

Why I Need God

2010-04-08T21:46:00.000-07:00

So why did I run the half-marathon?

About a year ago, my friend Candice ran her first marathon. She wrote about the experience afterwards and described something that felt so familiar to me: the arduous, seemingly never-ending road of hard work, tiredness and physical pain that can only be gotten through by enduring it. But her story ended with a finish line.

The last few years have been sprinkled with tragedy and disappointment, either for myself or those I love. I began this blog 5 years ago, with an unspoken hope at the time that by now I might not need it. Loved ones have passed away, jobs lost, hearts broken. What I desperately wanted was a finish line. I believe that's what brought tears to my eyes in reading Candice's race recap, and I'm pretty sure that sums up what made me do such a thing as enter a 13.1-mile race. I had to taste that joy of the finish.

Today I spoke to my friend Hideo for what very well may be the last time. A year ago, he was diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer, and has been fighting an uphill battle ever since. He is now bedridden, with barely the energy to have a conversation on the phone. After crying my eyes out, I did the only thing I knew would bring me any kind of solace. I called my best friend and asked her to pray for me to remind me who was in control when I wasn't, who had a better plan designed for us all than the broken life that we must all labor through, who would remember me for my friend and for the things that break my heart.

These last few years, I've had to ask myself why I follow Jesus each step of the way -- whether consciously or not. There is something about suffering that forces you to decide what really matters to you in the end. I'm beyond the point where I ask why bad things happen. But I've had to ask what I would do without the hope of God, which I have felt so desperate for in the face of grief. It's not a blind hope, or a band-aid hope to deny what's really happening. It's a hope that has to be bigger than all of the mess I see around me.

My reason for running that half was the same reason I need God. Like a long-distance run ridden with hills, life is pretty hard. But God has promised that it's all going somewhere amazing -- that there is actually a finish line that awaits. So whatever happens today or tomorrow or 5 years from now, the best is yet to come. And I keep going for that day.

Hope that is seen is not hope, for who hopes for what he already sees?
- Romans 8:24

Marathon, Not a Sprint

2010-03-21T21:39:00.000-07:00

I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith. Now there is in store for me the crown of righteousness, which the Lord, the righteous Judge, will award to me on that day—and not only to me, but also to all who have longed for his appearing. -- 2 Timothy 4:7-8

The first three months of 2010 have gone by in a flash. Though days can sometimes feel long, somehow, like laps on a track, only when they are over does the time seem much shorter.

Where have I been the last few months? I have been training for a half-marathon that is to finally take place this coming Saturday morning, bright and earlier than I normally care to be awake (let alone running). After two months of training, I look forward to the day and dread it at once. I'm excited and nervous. I anticipate the relief of the finish, but dread the pain that will start the minute the race begins and evolve for about 3 hours until the finish.

As I've been training for this marathon, the parallels to life are almost cliche, but have become much more real to me. In the midst of a run, every moment my mind is calculating how much longer I have until the end. There is a constant negotiation of how much more my body can handle until the next break. A 13-mile run is only accomplished as a 3-mile chunk, then 2.5 mile chunk, then another 2-mile chunk, and so on. Then somehow, miraculously I find myself at the final lap. I think this half-marathon finds me at a point in my life where it reflects how I feel: You just gotta keep going.

Today my best friend's father passed away after more than a decade of on-and-off health complications. I heard the news and wept, though I've only met him a few times and last saw him years ago. It was partly knowing the loss my friend was feeling, or had been feeling through the years as her father's health declined. Perhaps all the time in my head while running has made me soft. Hell, the other day I found myself tearing up at mile 8 when "Bizarre Love Triangle" played on my iPod. I suppose the reward at the end of a hard-run race tastes that much more rich and real to me these days.

Either way, I feel sure that Lionel Hapuarachy has moved on to a better place. May he rest in peace.

Miracles

2010-01-06T22:25:00.000-08:00

Since the miraculous Laker win on Friday, two friends have told me about good, interesting men initiating with them in totally normal, enjoyable ways, one friend has found the love of God in the midst of healing from a painfully broken marriage, and my boss agreed that I have too much work on my plate. Thank God for the signs of hope all around me. Duly noted: Anything is possible.

2010: A New Hope

2010-01-01T23:33:00.000-08:00

When I was a kid, Halloween was my favorite holiday. Soliciting free candy at every door in the neighborhood is like a child's wild fantasy come true. Then I got a little older and that favorite holiday became Christmas. I wish I could say it was because of the true, deep meaning of Christmas in celebrating the birth of Jesus, but it wasn't. It was because it was the one day of the year I might get the things I had been begging for year round as presents under the tree.

But in more recent years, my favorite holiday has become New Year's Day. This is not just because of the long-standing tradition that has developed between me and my best friend, of throwing the best house party of the year (though that is certainly a part of it). It is because the closing of the year and beginning of a new one provides a natural moment to reflect on the year that was, breathe, and think with new hope and expectancy of the year that will be.

Today I initiated the new year at Staples Center. Just 5 minutes from my house, I've only been inside the resplendent bastion of downtown once before. But today, I got to go to my first Lakers' game. The first half, the boys were cold and barely able to keep a 15 point deficit to the Sacramento Kings. Outlook was not good. But by midway third quarter, Lakers were back in the game having narrowed the gap to 6 points. After teetering too and fro through the fourth, the score was 108-106 Kings with just 4 seconds left in the game. Victory seemed unlikely, especially with 2 free throws just given to the Kings.

But by a small miracle, those free throws missed and a 3-point shot from Kobe just .1 seconds before the buzzer, the result was a very unexpected win for the Lakers. The crowd was screaming, confetti flying, for about 5 minutes straight. It was a great way to start the year.

In 2009, a good friend was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer, my parents went through a financial crisis for the first time in their lives, my mother went on anti-depression medication, and I found myself nursing a rejection wound for the second time from the same guy. But I'm learning to let go of the control I never had, to believe in the things beyond this world and the incomprehensibly good God behind it, and just plain how to hope -- for real. Damn it, if it wasn't one great year.

As I think about my hopes and resolutions for the new year, I can sum it up in tonight's game. The outlook may have been downright bleak at points, and even to the end, no one could be blamed for calling it a lost cause. But I believe the 3-point shots happen when you least expect it. And God knows how I can least expect it. So as the game for this new year begins, I've got my game face on for the seeming lost causes before that 3-point victory shot. And I plan to let myself enjoy it when it comes.

The Rejection Pill

2009-12-15T00:53:00.000-08:00

Physician's Note: The following side are side effects of the rejection pill.

- Insomnia
- Initial and sometimes prolonged nausea
- Loss of appetite
- Chest pains
- Depression or lethargy (anywhere from 1 week - 2 years in worst cases)

Studies have shown that each time the rejection pill is taken, certain side effects may lessen. For example, depression is typically experienced at its longest upon first dose and should lessen with each subsequent dose.

Experts recommend swallowing the pill in it's whole dose, as opposed to spreading out one dose in multiple takings. Though effects may be more potent, they are swifter to heal. WARNING: Rejection pill can cause addiction. Patients should only take this pill under doctor prescription, and remain under close care while under the influence of the pill.

NOTE: The rejection pill should never completely lose its effect on the chest. If no chest pains are felt and the patient appears free of all symptoms, they should call the doctor immediately.

The Battle of Head and Heart

2009-12-12T23:42:00.000-08:00

Sometimes you don't know how you feel about someone until it is too late. Your heart tells you so after some news that makes the truth unavoidable. He's dating someone else.

There's a scene from my latest TV obsession, "How I Met Your Mother," season 4 - where Ted confesses to ex-girlfriend, Stella, his envy of her happiness with her fiance, and the happiness and security he recognizes in the unions around him. "I want that," he says, "and I'm tired of waiting."

One of the reasons I love this show so much is because of how much I relate to Ted's search. As much as I try to deny it, I think there is a hopeless romantic somewhere in me. And although years of waiting has made some of those dreams of finding someone I'm excited about grow dim, deep down I want to believe that it's still possible. Might there be someone I can connect with and laugh with and feel excited about? My head has told me to be prepared for something else. But there are moments where your heart exposes that vulnerable hope that you have tried so hard to protect. And it gives one pause to wonder -- Did I miss the boat? As I figure myself out and am a slow learner in this area, will there be anyone left? And of course, the most tempting question of all: What's wrong with me?

My head believes that there is someone out there. It even believes that I'm right where I'm supposed to be right now, and that all of this is preparing me for the realization of all of those hopes in a way beyond what I can conceive at this moment. But my heart's hope is not there yet. And as a soldier must continue to fight even with fresh wounds, I know my call is to keep pressing forward. Someday my heart and head will be in the same place.

Meanwhile, I want to believe that he, whoever he is, is getting here as fast as he can.

Letting Go of Sherbatsky

2009-12-06T23:06:00.000-08:00

In season 1 of "How I Met Your Mother," there is an episode where character Robin Sherbatsky begins dating a seemingly great guy: He's handsome, attentive, easygoing and totally into her. Throughout the epidsode though, we see Robin struggling. She feels cramped by his eagerness to do things together, and uncomfortable being part of a couple. There is one scene in particular that captures this. After a pep talk with her best friend about needing to let go of herself a little and embrace the "togetherness" of couple-dom, Robin takes the giant step of deciding to share an ice cream sundae with her boyfriend. But throughout the conversation, she keeps qualifying all of his "we" statements back into "you" and "I"s. As Robin attempts to share the sundae, she finds herself pulling it for herself, until finally she creates a diversion to distract her date so that she can finish the sundae off.

From the first time I watched this plot unfold, I felt like I was watching myself, all the way down to the cherry on the sundae. I have become very comfortably independent. And if I were to be honest, I like that at the end of the day I call the shots on my life and there's no complication of another person's needs, preferences or issues to consider. I give myself gladly to my friends and those I love, but if I need my alone time or have other things to tend to, in the back of my mind I know I can just leave. I like my own sundae with the flavors and toppings just the way I like them.

The problem is, there's not much room for someone else in Sherbatsky land. And more recently, I've become aware of how used to it I've become, and protective of losing myself to someone else. But in the world of real relationships, you must create room for someone else, as they create room for you. Their cares become yours, their needs become your concern, their issues become things you must work through -- together.

Like many other singles, I like the idea of dating and becoming a "we" with someone else. But deep down, the thought of letting go of my single comforts makes me a little anxious. At least I know it must be done. It has made it to my to-do list.

The Weight of Glory and A Pair of Shoes

2009-11-30T23:40:00.000-08:00

I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. -Romans 8:18

As a student in college, now more than 10 years ago, I loved this verse. At the time, I think I loved the idea that nothing in this world could get me down, because God's redemption was so complete it covered even the bad stuff. Of course, at the time, "the bad stuff" consisted of unrequited feelings from boys I liked or an argument with someone in my family.

Fast forward to present day. I drove home today with 3 pairs of shoes in my car that used to belong to my friend Midi, who died almost 2 whole years ago now. Mark, knowing we wore the same shoe size, let me know he was starting to clean out the closet. Along the way, I talked to my friend, Hideo, who's cancer is now at least 12 times the size it was when it was found early this year, and who has now been told by more than one doctor that there is very little they can do. Friends have been married and divorced, family and friends' families have passed away (some tragically) and the world of present sufferings can feel downright overwhelming.

But the weight of glory has proved its worth as well, as only time and suffering can truly test. It's funny -- I always understood the glory to be a future thing, like one day when we all die and go to heaven, we'll get to see this awesome glory and it will make it all okay. But I realize now that this glory is formed and revealed in us as we suffer today. And the more we suffer with Jesus (and not in isolation of him), and the more you see the difference when others suffer alone, the easier it is to recognize the amazing weight of that glory that is anchoring me through whatever may come.

When Mark first called about the shoes, I felt a little weight in my heart and almost told him I just couldn't do it. But I realized that Mark - and Midi were she here - would be glad to have her belongings go to those she loved. And if I believe that Midi is not dead in the eternal sense, which I do, then her old belongings were only temporarily hers anyway - just as all of our things are borrowed in the end.

Still, I cried my eyes out for about 10 minutes when I got home. The thing glory will not do is make you numb, and I'm glad for that. As I went about getting ready for bed, I thought how much I look forward to the end - when all of this present suffering will fade away and I'll get to see all loved ones I've lost again. And in the meantime, there's still more glory to be revealed.

My 5

2009-10-01T22:24:00.001-07:00

Tonight I had a conversation with my pastor about my dating life.

Among topics, I asked him for thoughts and advice about male vs. female initiation in dating. As usual, he gave me a well-thought out response that comes not from memorizing rules or mastering a particular argument, but from years and years of counseling couples in real life.

He challenged me to think not about the dos and don'ts, but to think about what I really want. He encouraged me to think about my top 5 deal-breakers, and think about what's actually going on in my relationships, rather than seek a formula for relationship success. When put that way, it cuts the crap and gets right to the point.

It was a helpful conversation, and by the end of it I realized he didn't necessarily tell me anything I hadn't already in some way concluded myself. But it was empowering to remember the responsibility I have in solving my own dilemma. Yet at the same time, I felt him unknowingly call my bluff. My excuses have generally been sung to the tune of, "all of the attractive, interesting guys I'm interested in will never ask me out." But what are my 5 deal-breakers?

I have to admit, I can't say that I know for sure. And I feel a bit of discomfort at the thought of figuring those out. Just a little bit.

I Heart This Show

2009-09-09T23:50:00.001-07:00

...not just because it has both Jason Segel and Neil Patrick Harris, or because they acknowledge things like the girl with crazy eyes or unspoken rules between bros, but because it's fun watching people on TV go through what every single person goes through (well, more or less).

Marshall rules.

Hot Insecure People

2009-09-09T23:30:00.000-07:00

I don't think we will ever fully understand the phenomenon. We all know the hot guy who only goes for crazy women, and the hot girl who only goes for losers. And what about those of us who go for that hot guy? Does that make us the crazy in that equation?

Which came first, the chicken or the egg? And where are all the normal people?

Farewell to John Hughes

2009-08-08T23:49:00.000-07:00

When the news broke that John Hughes died a few days ago of a heart attack at the age of 59, news articles across the internet have been accompanied by testimonies of former Brat Packers and other stars who were put on the map because of him or were admirers from afar: Matthew Broderick, Molly Ringwald, Jennifer Grey, Jon Cryer, Steve Martin and even Roger Ebert.

If Michael Jackson's music was such a part of the soundtrack of my youth, John Hughes was by far the filmmaker who helped me fall in love with movies and influenced my sense of identity and humor. He had a true affection for the underdog -- or in high school terms, the geek. Although our hearts throbbed for Jake Ryan and Ferris Bueller, the real heroes of his movies were Farmer Ted, Cameron Frye and Keith Nelson (I had to look up that last name -- I don't think they even mention Keith's last name in "Some Kind of Wonderful").

At one point, I think I had all of the words memorized to "Sixteen Candles," "Pretty In Pink," "Ferris Bueller's Day Off," and parts of "The Breakfast Club." I admit, I wanted to be Molly Ringwald. When my classmates all wanted Acura Integras, I wanted a purple Karmann Ghia. And I will always remember a day in junior high when I proudly went to school in a funky-styled outfit I had put together myself only to get made fun of by the popular girls. Though mortifying at the time, in looking back I suppose it was a true Andie Walsh moment.

Hats off to the man who championed us off-beat kids and teens, who ever needed someone to validate our cause. Thanks, John. We'll miss the screwball jokes interlaced with profound moments of tenderness that were your films.

1. You can never go too far.
2. If I'm gonna get busted, it's not gonna be by a guy like that.

Fireworks and The Man in the Mirror

2009-07-04T23:33:00.000-07:00

Just over a week ago, Michael Jackson, the self-proclaimed King of Pop, danced his last signature steps in a rehearsal on the grand stage of the Staples Center, then went into cardiac arrest and breathed his last breath not 24 hours later. I was at work running from one meeting to another when a co-worker alerted me to the news before CNN or the LA Times had confirmed it: Michael Jackson was dead.

Since then, DJs have dusted off old LPs of album cuts or singles not played in years, radio stations have created tribute mixes and dedicated days to all-Michael play, television specials on his life and music have been popping up with a quickness only possible for someone with such a prolific career of music and video volume over the 40-year career of his 50-year life. And I, in my own car, have had "Michael" and "Jackson 5" as my two most played artists on my iTunes, processing the death of the man who provided much of the soundtrack of my youth. Videos from the "Thriller" album bring me back to watching Video 1 with Richard Blade in elementary school, songs from "Dangerous" were the anthems of my high school dance production numbers, and the list goes on.

As a DJ, I mourn the death of one of the greatest musical talents in history. Though he hasn't produced a hit in a few years, the finality that Jackson's distinctive, soulful vocals will not appear on any more new releases is a sad thought. As a Gen-Xer, I mourn the closing of a genre -- in a way, Michael was his own -- so closely tied with the development of my musical taste and love of dance growing up. But as a human, I mourn the downward spiral of his life over the years. Growing up literally remembering nothing but being in the public eye, and with a fiercely applause-hungry, over-critical and crazy stage parent of a father, Michael confessed once that the only place he felt safe was on a stage before thousands of people. As impressive as his presence was on that stage of dancers and flashing lights, there appeared to me to be a child who never grew up, and struggled with self-hate and was scared to death of people and relationships. All of this culminated in child molestation charges, excessive plastic surgery and increasingly frequent public displays of weirdness.

Michael's music may have been big enough to cover the multitude of his deep issues, and many will remember his glorious laundry list of #1s over all of the freakishness. But as many thousands there are mourning Michael the King on Tuesday's memorial service at the Staples Center and Nokia, I could bet the number of individuals who actually knew Michael the man could be counted on one hand.

Still, as I watched fireworks celebrating the Fourth of July tonight, my friends and I were sitting too far from the show to hear any music. And in my mind, the silent, spectacular show - like many things - would have been perfect set to some good ol' MJ.

A Fine Bro-mance

2009-04-05T21:40:00.000-07:00

Last night I went to see "I Love You, Man," a bro-mantic comedy -- or the latest blockbuster formula in Hollywood. Paul Rudd plays Peter, a chronic boyfriend -- sensitive, honest, thoughtful, and more comfortable with the opposite sex (we all know that guy). When he gets engaged, his fiancee encourages him to fill out their wedding party with some of his best friends, and he embarks on a series of man-dates in search of a BFF.

When Peter finds his match made in heaven, it's in the free-love, free-thought, intuitive quasi-bohemian Sydney, played by Jason Segel. But unlike the romantic comedies of yore, this friendship is all about embracing their testosterone-driven, lustful inner animal. Unlike Peter, Sydney is way in touch with his man-side, and encourages Peter to yawp and masturbate his way there as well.

This is not the first time I've walked out of a movie about love and relationships realizing that I am no longer the target audience. It follows a string of male-centered romantic/friendship comedies dominating screens big and small. Characters like Turk and J.D., Andy the 40-year-old virgin, and just about anyone played by Josh Rogan are in good company. They encourage bachelors everywhere to throw the Prince Charming of the female genre out the window, and give them the real man in all of his imperfect, unfaithful, impulsive and sometimes downright disgusting tendencies. (Hey, in spirit of bromance, I'm just keepin' it real.) They thank Greg Behrent and Judd Apatow for helping them get their balls back.

I find it a fascinating turn in our culture that the bromance points to. After the metrosexual phenomenon has become everyday, and more and more men are just as concerned with their appearance as women are, it turns out they have also become just as obsessed with the perfect girl as we are with the perfect guy -- and their fantasies just as full of issues.

Although I have mixed feelings about the overall message bromance is trying to make (about as mixed as my feelings towards the female version), I gotta say the former is way more entertaining to me overall. I don't know what that says about me. I've never been much of a traditional romantic, and maybe I'm finding myself feeling out-womaned by men.

A Very Rainy Day

2009-02-09T23:18:00.000-08:00

Today I found out my good friend DJ Hideo has been diagnosed with stage 4 colon cancer, which has also spread to his liver.

After spending a good part of today driving in the rain in tears or fighting them, I can't describe how sad this makes me, or how terrifying it is to even think of losing another loved one. In a world full of competition and lack of regard for others, it is rare to find someone who genuinely cares for others and who's pleasure it is to do so. At times I have felt alone in the world of the DJ, or like even friends are more motivated by self-interest. But despite his credentials of 20+ years as a professional DJ, regarded well by his colleagues around the world, Hideo has always been a presence of joy and safety to me, and true friendship. And the thought of his life being at risk is deeply saddening to me.

I only met Hideo in 2006. It is amazing how quickly a person can find a home in your heart. Kindness is a powerful thing, and as easily as it binds people together, the strength of it makes the thought of loss all the more painful.

Please join me in praying for Hideo and his family.

At Barcopa, my first residency given to me by Hideo

America's Top Knight

2009-01-21T22:16:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, Barack Hussein Obama was inaugurated as the 44th President of the United States -- as if you needed me to tell you that. It was probably one of the most publicly viewed inaugurations of all time, and certainly the most by far in my own lifetime. I confess, it was the first time I have ever cared enough to watch. One of my own housemates was among the throng of some 2 million witnesses to the event live in D.C., braving freezing temperatures overnight that they might catch a glimpse of the ceremony inducting the first beloved politician in decades. After prayers, songs and oaths were all given, the new President gave his winning smile and waved to the crowd -- certainly the millions gathered thought that wave was just for them. Later in the day, as the motorcade drove down Pennsylvania Avenue, Obama and his first lady stepped out of their luxury Cadillac to walk a bit, and cameras subsequently caught fans running to keep up with the car in the off chance that their hero, the President, might step out of the car again and acknowledge them.

I am a supporter of Barack Obama and was not shy about casting my vote for him back in November. But as inspiring a speaker, as charming a personality, as well-rounded and diverse a background and as great of a leader and thinker he may be, he is still just a man -- a man I've never met, and a politician at that. I would be so bold as to say that that relationship is true for most of the world that is doting over its newfound obsession. And yet, when Obama speaks, people not only listen, they cry.

What this tells me about our country is a few things. I will attempt to generalize here: One, that we have felt so starved of leadership we trust, having so long tolerated leadership (beyond the Bush era) that seemed defensive, deceitful and at times completely nonsensical. Barack Obama stepped into history at just the right time. Had he come onto the ballot even one term earlier, I don't think our country would have been prepared to put the first half-Black man into office. And as much as I feel for George Bush, who just about became the laughing stock of the world by the end of his presidency, his perfect storm dilemma of multiple red-alert crises and bad leadership decisions made us feel that desperation for something new all the more.

Two, that for the majority of us out there, Daddy didn't love us the way we needed. Though he may not know it, Obama has been adopted by many as their surrogate fathers. Like our favorite celebrities, he is perfect from afar -- but even more so, because he wants to take care of us. We love his courage to stand up for the ideals of this generation, we love that he thinks like us -- except he's way smarter. We love his humanity, the man seemingly always before the politician. We love that he can adore his wife, talk about his kids' allergies to dogs and address the crashing economy and foreign policy all in one breath. We love that he listens to Stevie Wonder and Jay-Z. He has become the knight in shining armor, the perfect guy saving the day at the end of a cheesy movie, the authority who finally gets us.

As extreme as the hysteria over this one man has become, and as much as I generally oppose extreme hysteria, I, too, have hopes that Obama will be a better leader than anyone we've had in a while. As far as change goes, if Obama's greatest accomplishment is to breathe new hope and excitement in leadership into our country's culture of disrespect and distaste for authority, that is pretty monumental in itself.

New Year of Acceptance

2009-01-02T17:49:00.001-08:00

New Year's has always held more personal significance to me than Thanksgiving or Christmas. Though meaningful and special in their own ways, I grew up associating those holidays with concepts like lots of food, or the prospect new toys or gifts -- all good things, but more mature adult concepts like gratefulness and the birth of Jesus never really set in my consciousness fully to replace them. New Year's Day is something that has made more sense to me as an adult: It represents both the end of things and beginning of things at once. It has made me pause and say goodbye to things I've grown out of, and welcome in new hopes and prospects of what may come. It is bittersweet and thankful and reflective.

A year ago today, I received the news that a friend of mine was killed in a tragic car accident. Yesterday, my friends were on my heart and mind, and I think they always will be on New Year's Day. As I look back on the year that followed, I realize that death -- or endings -- was somewhat of a theme that carried throughout. Friends married or drifted, new relationships I had hoped would work out a certain way didn't, and I found myself accepting things as they really were, maybe for the first time. Somehow through it all, I ended the year more at peace, if a little more wistful, than a year ago.

Whatever the new year may bring, I feel more ready to go through it and less afraid of what that may include. I have much to be grateful for, and feel like I have nothing to lose that I cannot keep.

The Failing Economy of Dating

2008-11-09T23:57:00.000-08:00

Our major investment banks, stock market and job market are not the only things plummeting in the United States. There is also the matter of the slow decline of resources in the world of Christian dating.

As a single Christian woman who is neither white, nor affiliated with the fundamentalist religious right, nor merely a nominal Christian who's beliefs have no bearing on her actual life and views, from an economist's standpoint it could be said that I entered the market already at a deficit when it comes to number of options. Add in a timetable of those small resources slowly declining, and though you may not get a sudden market crash, a girl can get the feeling that this country didn't end up being the land of opportunity she thought it could be.

She might find herself having thoughts more regularly like, "I really am both the oldest and only single person in this room," or "Are there really only losers and passive men left?" and find a sinking feeling that the salad days of yore are never to be returned to. Unlike the fiscal economy, this pool of resources doesn't cycle back up.

Though it will take millions of jobs and dollars to bring our country back to a functioning, thriving level again, it is sometimes easier for me to believe that is possible than that there is any one guy out there for me. Money that already exists can be reallocated and channeled in new ways to invigorate an economy. The same cannot be said about the endangered species of men who would be right for me.

I do believe though that hitting rock bottom is necessary for both kinds of economies to improve. While our country is at a point where we want to learn from the mistakes of the Great Depression, and take informed measures not to repeat history, I'm hoping my rock bottom has already hit and that I, too, will learn from the mistakes of my past and be more open to a future that probably involves a significant amount of change. The country may be waiting for new orders from our new president-elect, but I await a word and act of redemption from my God.

Nibbling

2008-11-08T22:46:00.000-08:00

Most days, I'm at least somewhat able to hold onto hope that something good out there awaits, whatever that may be. I'm grateful for what I have -- a job I enjoy with coworkers and a boss that I respect and like, a community of friends that I know love me and would be there for me in a minute if I needed them, parents who raised me to value authenticity in myself and in those around me, and the list can go on.

But once in a while, the wear and tear of disappointment or loneliness that sometimes comes with growing in different ways than those around me can get the better of me. Once in a while, there's a long-term wear day.

But as I sit in my room tonight, feeling the weight of future "what-if-nots," I know that somehow this will all help me love and suffer with people better in the end. Somehow it's the difficult stuff that makes the most difference once you get through it. And I can at least hope in that.

Waxing Obama

2008-11-04T23:06:00.000-08:00

There may be some who foolishly believe that Barack Obama is some magic savior that will solve all of the country's many abysmal problems. There may be some who voted for the celebrity of Obama -- probably the first presidential candidate to substantially infiltrate video games, rap songs, pop radio stations and SNL. He is definitely "cooler" and "hipper" than McCain -- who Chris Rock recently described as "OLD-old." Others may just be relieved just to have a coherent, thinking Democratic president in office. And still others may see that he represents a new generation of adults that are now the voters and contributing citizens of America, and a change in what we need from a leader.

But in the weeks leading up to today, and as I stood in line this morning waiting an hour at Greater Page Temple down my street to vote with many neighbors I'd never met before and who rarely leave their houses, the impact has struck me of what it might mean to have a Black president for the first time in American history. I thought of the people I've lived right next to the last 10 years who struggle so hard to believe even graduating high school and going to college is possible, or the people my roommate defends in the LA courts everyday who are victims of racial profiling, little knowledge of their rights and corrupt law enforcement. These are among the people who Obama has somehow ignited with hope for the success of their own lives and renewed a sense of patriotism and respect for leadership.

Though the actual hard work of realizing hopes and undoing the mess this country currently is has only just begun, I never thought I'd see the day when a leader would arise that the neighbors around me would feel advocated by and believe in. Not because of what he can do, but because of what his election represents, it was a miracle that Barack Obama got elected. And I feel proud to be an American -- maybe really for the first time -- for how we cared enough to vote today and elect the unlikely candidate that will help inspire people in this country who have been starved of hope for so long and give them a sense of ownership for what their futures could be. A black man as president is no longer just an idyllic fantasy of TV and film. Also, it sure is nice to think that we now have a chance, as Sarah Silverman puts it, to no longer be known as the assholes of the universe.

Now, time to roll up our sleeves.

My George Costanza Year

2008-10-05T22:37:00.000-07:00

One of my favorite episodes of "Seinfeld" is the one where George Costanza decides he's tired of being a loser, and that the way to remedy the situation is by approaching everything in life the opposite way he would naturally be inclined to. As the episode goes on, he finds that as he's taken this approach, everything is starting to go his way in all areas of his life.

I feel this is a George Costanza time for me in the area of my singleness. Clearly whatever I've been doing or not doing has not been working. Maybe I've picked the wrong "type," maybe I'm not looking in the right places, maybe I've closed doors to people or avenues that felt distasteful for wrong reasons. Whatever it is, I know there is still no guarantee that everything will turn around. But feeling a little burned by my own tendencies, I'm willing to try doing the opposite of me for a while.

Top 7 Good Feelings

2008-09-27T02:55:00.001-07:00

7. Around 5:30 PM everyday when I'm getting off work -- especially Friday

6. Spinning a DJ set and getting in the zone

5. The feeling just after cleaning up for bed after a long day

4. Finding the perfect clearance deal on an item I've been long looking for

3. Unexpected gratitude expressed by someone you have worked hard to care for

2. Watching a great movie that helps me have a breakthrough about my own life

1. Realizing that God made something really good out of a really shitty situation

A Very L.A. Dilemma

2008-09-22T23:41:00.000-07:00

When my roommate moved in two years ago, we got an all too familiar notice on our door informing us that some filming or other was to take place on our block. She was very excited that the cast of a TV show she loved was actually going to be just down the street from us.

Just a few months later, the novelty wore off quick when she realized that this happens once every few weeks. The street is overridden with trailers, portable high-wattage lighting and cops. Woody Harrelson, Queen Latifah, R&B group Cherish and the cast of Heroes have all spent time on my block. Once in a while we might see a small check for our inconvenience, sometimes there is blaring music on repeat for hours, and always we lose all of the parking on our street. I won't lie: It sucks.

I live in the historic West Adams district. The neighborhood that began as the wealthy center of L.A., now home to mostly lower-income Black and Latino families, has apparently recaptured the attention of the upper class.

I do find it fascinating that this dynamic exists here in my lower-income hood, on the north border of South Central. Only in L.A. would the poor find themselves so regularly displaced and inconvenienced by movie stars.

Forever High School

2008-09-10T23:29:00.000-07:00

In my time, it was the Brat Pack. But through the decades, it's clear that whatever the form -- from "Grease" to 90210 to High School Musical -- high school drama sells. There's something about high school that captures the beginning of our understanding of individuality, socialization and relationships that is unique to most other experiences people willingly enter into. Beyond graduation, we disperse further into segregated, specialized environments based on wealth, ethnicity, class, religion, and interests. But in high school, the sportoes, motorheads, geeks, sluts, bloods, wasteoids and dweebies (as coined by John Hughes), one and all are stuck on one campus.

But though we all leave it eventually, our issues often follow us right off the school yard. Whoever you were on campus, many can't seem to shake the ghosts of their high school past. Guys chase that cheerleader they felt like they could never get, girls pine after the people-pleasing football captain or ASB president. Or sometimes we are also drawn to the person they used to be: fat or nerdy or on the outside, converted to socialized, improved adult cool. We chase those images of strength or beauty that we feel make will make us feel like one of the cool kids, when if we just took care of our own inner children, we might grow up and realize those dynamics should have been left at the senior prom.

The problem is, even the head cheerleader can never actually do the job of getting rid of your ghost. If we can't get to a point where we can grow up out of high school ourselves, we can't get someone to do it for us anymore than we can do it for someone else. But plenty of us try. Relationships and even marriages are built on these dynamics, and people can make them work -- as long as they both commit to staying in high school...for as long as they both shall live.

Obama and the Unexpected

2008-08-27T21:10:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-21T23:54:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-17T23:58:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-17T23:28:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-16T18:19:00.001-07:00

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

2008-08-15T21:42:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-14T23:11:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-11T15:03:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-05T13:55:00.000-07:00

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

2008-08-02T08:13:00.000-07:00

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.)

Channeling My Inner '80s Geek

2008-07-25T11:14:00.001-07:00

Last night I did the best thing I'll do all summer. I went to Diablo Cody's film showcase at the New Beverly Cinema, featuring one of my all-time favorite movies, "Pretty in Pink."

If I could pick two words to capture the golden era of movies from my youth, they would be JOHN HUGHES. 20 years after first falling in love with the Brat Pack and their pre-Gen-X angst, I'm amazed at how these movies hold up. Why? John Hughes is one great writer who gets people. He is unmatched in his ability to take ridiculous high school drama, where the most important things in life have to do with ditching school and going to prom, and put round characters set in real social contexts with real family issues and make you give two cents about what happens to them. Granted, it helps if you have a penchant for good quality sap like I do.

The best part of last night was before the movie showing, when Diablo and special guest Jon Cryer (Duckie Dale fans given permission to freak out now) did some Q&A about the film. I learned the Molly Ringwald had a crush on Robert Downey Jr. at the time and hoped he would get the role instead of Cryer. I learned they actually filmed the *real* way fans know the film was supposed to end, but it didn't work so well with Ringwald's stomach flu. I learned that Trax was actually right on Third Street Promenade, the then-void lot of empty storefronts. And I learned that Jon is just as funny and relateable in real life as his Duckie was.

Then, watching the movie, I was reminded of why I loved it so. I have always identified with the outcast-hero that is so celebrated in the John Hughes canon. Andie Walsh and Duckie Dale, like Keith and Watts, or John Bender or Farmer Ted or Cameron Frye, represented to me then that the one who didn't have it all could still win something in the end. I will always be more Andie Walsh than Amanda Jones (pardon the mixed movie metaphor), and I embrace that. I just haven't found my devoted Duckie Dale yet.

Best scene: Anyone who would do a little Otis deserves to get the girl.

The Dark Knight

2008-07-20T00:31:00.000-07:00

Every superhero movie starts with a normal guy. Last night, I saw the much anticipated new Batman movie, "The Dark Knight." With hero Batman on one side and villain Joker on the other, both victims of pain and loss, the movie explores what happens to people after they suffer. It also suggests that we have a choice in the matter. If there's one thing Batman teaches us, it's that our pain never just disappears in a vacuum, the way we wish it would.

Towards the end of the movie, the Joker poignantly comments that madness is like gravity - it just takes a little push for it to come tumbling down. And as I watched characters in this fictitious world respond in very non-fictitious ways to loss in their lives, I felt glad that we have been given a way out of madness. And in the real world, it doesn't come down to me biting the bullets of pain that sometimes hit, it comes down to where I go with that pain. Though few of us process by wearing freaky makeup and engaging in sociopathic behavior, or donning an animal costume to fight crime, we all process in some way. What do we do with the pain of emotionally absent fathers, mothers who have abandoned us, loved ones lost in tragedy, estranged relationships, broken hearts or hopes completely dashed?

Lately I've been looking around and seeing a lot of rubble -- the remaining schrapnel of my own past and those around me. Gone are the days of youthful idealism, where the future is full of opportunity and possibility. Real life can leave some real scars, and even knowing that anything can happen, I have been aware of the surgery and stitches needed in some of the deeper places of my heart. And in real life with real God, pain is no less real and loss doesn't magically undo itself.

But miraculously, all things can be redeemed. I see it in my own life and I see it in good friends around me who are choosing to wrestle with God and let him give new hopes and new dreams to replace the ones lost. Though we are all mid-process, I'm hanging on the edge of my seat for the dawn that always follows a dark night. I hear it's better than any Hollywood happy ending our human minds can conjure.

A Good Mix is Forever

2008-07-16T22:33:00.000-07:00

I popped a CD mix I had made for my sister a few years ago entitled, "Waiting for Somebody." It had been so long since I'd listened to it or thought about it, I forgot what was on it. So I found each song a delight -- clearly they are all songs I love since I had created the mix. Some of them I hadn't heard in years, others I had forgotten about entirely. So there I was driving on the 60 singing things like Sinead O'Connor, The Jesus and Mary Chain, Cocteau Twins and Neil Finn at the top of my lungs.

As I listened to the lyrics of songs I had carefully put together years ago to encourage my sister, I found myself also encouraged. It's been a long time since I've been in the phase of hearing God sing me love songs. But by the time I hit Nina Simone's "My Baby Just Cares For Me," I was actually struck by God's own love for me, that isn't concerned about anything else that can seem so important to the rest of the world, "Liz Taylor is not his style, and even Lana Turner's smile is something he can't see; my Baby don't care who knows, my Baby just cares for me."

I felt emboldened to reclaim strength in my singleness. The longing of a single person is to know the experience of being fully loved, just as they are. And their fear is that no one will ever love them in that way. So what have I got to worry about?

The Power of Promise

2008-07-12T18:39:00.000-07:00

I have been thinking lately of the words "promised land." It has become a phrase specifically associated with Old Testament Bible stories of Israel wandering in the desert for 40 years, or as a vague symbolic notion in Christendom. But in the day-to-day struggles of not knowing what is to come, the words have been on my mind lately. There is something amazing about the concept: There is a land of promise of something better that God intends for us. A promise can be so real as to be a land -- a place to live and experience and be.

I don't have a bad life right now. I can't complain of a stable, enjoyable job, the ability to pursue DJ-ing as a creative expression on the side, or longtime friends who know me and love me. But there are days I fear that I have hit adulthood normalcy, and there is no more to look forward to. Is the rest of my life just to be more of the same? One long road of working and some nice extra-curricular activities? A life with no promise of something better quickly loses its meaning. It's the promised land, both in this life and the one to come, that gets me through the day. Though I don't know what exactly it holds, or what that place will be like, I know it will be good.

Ghetto Girl

2008-07-05T00:14:00.001-07:00

I just had one of the most pleasant Fourth of Julys I've had in years. I spent the day catching up on sleep and doing next to nothing, then on a whim went to the fireworks show at the Coliseum with my roommate. After parking in a totally red zone (with the hundred other cars breaking the law) and gathering on the Natural History Museum's dying lawn with a couple hundred mostly Black and Latino families from our hood (freely launching their own illegal pre-show firecrackers) we watched 30 minutes of fireworks set to the cheesiest Americana you could dig. We then drove along the 10 to get In-N-Out burgers, with fireworks from celebrations all over lighting our way. It was a very L.A. Fourth.

As both of us shared about some of the blues we brought into the day -- memories of ex-dates in years past, current friends in hard times, and our own things we're getting through -- I was grateful again for quiet days like this one and friends to share it with. I've had a lot of reflective moments this year, and tonight, as I enjoyed the hood culture that has become so familiar to me over my 10 years living here, I realized that this hood has become my home.

Revelation of the Obvious

2008-06-30T10:59:00.000-07:00

I'm sure a large contributor was sheer tiredness -- adding a full-time job to a part-time DJ lifestyle and other extracurricular commitments is turning out to be quite the adjustment. Maybe another factor was DJ-ing a wedding of a couple a few years younger than myself, and seeing the future of weddings I'll attend and/or DJ: I have gone from attending weddings of those older than me, to those who are my peers, and now am in the stage where most I'll attend will be those younger. And maybe another factor was the continuous vacant landscape that is my dating life, try as I might to resuscitate it.

Whatever the reasons, the thing that hit me with a wave of emotion this weekend was this: I want to get married someday. Yes, after three years of blogging about singleness, what may be obvious to all but myself became clear to me over the weekend. Although I never would have denied that meeting someone and getting married would be nice, I never wanted to be that girl who was pining away for some man to make her complete, and perpetuating the ridiculous notion that relationships and marriage are the end-all, be-all of human existence. And since I'm almost constantly surrounded by people who at least partially (if not completely) believe that, it has been easy for me to swing the other way as my own little "F-you" to the world.

But as the best man gave a toast over the weekend to his friend, and recalled the moment he stated frankly that he was in love with this lovely woman who became his wife, something got through that protective barrier I like to keep around my heart and I felt a tear escape. Because in addition to swallowing my pride and admitting I too would like what is good about dating and marriage, I must also wrestle with my own fear: the possibility that I'll never get there. And in a way, it was the first time I really confronted that that could very well be the case.

Now that it's out there, I feel freed up even in the midst of processing what's unpleasant about all that. I still believe that if I were to be single my whole life, I really would be okay and maybe save me a lot of drama and heartbreak if I were to have made a decision into something God didn't intend. But as I am now more fully aware of my own self and desires, I can wake up tomorrow morning ready to process and learn to hope from a more honest place.

What Kind of Married Are You?

2008-06-22T22:57:00.000-07:00

Over the last 10 years of my life, I've been to many weddings and seen many friends "become one" with their spouses in different ways. In the same way that there are personality and "what kind of drunk are you" tests all over magazines and the internet these days, I wonder what kind of married I would be.

As I look around at some other single friends who have similarly thrown their share of rice for their friends, I realize I have a luxury of knowing people who will always value reaching out to others. It was true when they were single, and it continues to be true in marriage. So though life has brought them through different seasons -- marriage, babies, children -- I am grateful that I have those friends that continue to be in my life, and communicate that my friendship as a single person is just as valuable as that of another married. I know some have lost almost all contact with their married friends, further impressing on us the unnecessary barrier between married and single people.

I understand that sometimes we grow apart from people we were once close with as God takes us into new things and new community experiences. I also know some personalities only have so much social energy to expend before they just need to shift into down time. But if marriage is in the cards for me someday -- which it may or may not be -- I have decided that for my own health and sanity, I hope to be the kind that breaks down walls between singles and marrieds, and reminds my single friends that marriage is no fantasy where all of your wildest dreams come true. And that I still need them. As a single person, it has been invaluable to me to have a window into real married life to help shatter those false images of fantasy that have so been indoctrinated in us.

Of course, if I never get married, there is no such issue to resolve. I'll add that to my singleness "pros" list.

The Younger Girl

2008-06-20T14:25:00.000-07:00

I have never thought of myself as old. Turning 30 was a suprisingly celebrative time for me, despite the way our culture has somehow deemed it the beginning of the end. I have never felt like my age would be a factor in whether or not some guy might be interested in me.

Although I hope that that is still true, I have found myself having an internal gag reflex when I hear about eligible guys in my age group hooking up with early 20-somethings. I remember back to when I was that age and thought I had it all together but was actually right mid-adolescence. Then it's hard for me to believe that there are many exceptions to that life process development timeline. And then I lose respect for the guy, but not without feeling a little frustrated at the same time that I'm at the point in my life where, as few as my options are, my pool is now further diminished by guys who are down with the younger woman. She's more impressionable, less opinionated, and I suppose has a few more child-bearing years on her.

I'm tryin' here, but it's hard not to be disheartened. I quote When Harry Met Sally, "It's not the same for men -- Charlie Chaplin had babies when he was 73." Sigh. Sally, I too will be 40...someday.

The End of Alone?

2008-06-15T17:20:00.000-07:00

Today is the last day of my unemployment sabbatical. It's been a wonderful 13 months and 2 weeks. Tomorrow morning marks a new day, and I imagine a new chapter in my life.

I think if I were to characterize my time off, I could describe it simply with the word "alone." The last few years, God has been teaching me what it means to be stripped of my dependence on people: what they think, the power they have to extend opportunity to me or not, their validation or love of me, and the list goes on. And this last year has completed something in my ability to be comfortable in being alone.

I think I have seen aloneness as a season or phase in my life currently, and perhaps it is. But I wonder if aloneness is just what we will always feel in some way in this lifetime. It is the aloneness of only seeing reality in part right now, of only being able to know the perfect intimacy of God in part, of experiencing every good thing in part or in instances. I see in myself and in so many around me the urge to put an end to their "aloneness" in another person. But we have all felt alone even in the presence of those closest to us at times.

I'm trying to embrace (and not fearfully run from) being alone right now. Some days it is a wonderful, freeing feeling. Others it can feel like an indefinite loneliness, and I can only find solace in letting God remind me that he sees and remembers me. Either way, I'm doing everything I can to hold onto hope that one day the partial good stuff we experience now will be a full, no-holds-barred, nothing-lacking kind of good, that I'm promised does not disappoint.

The Grey Zone

2008-06-09T23:31:00.000-07:00

In this day and age of post-feminism and whatnot, it can be hard to figure out healthy, cross-gender friendship. Especially because almost everything attraction-oriented goes unspoken, as already discussed in The Available Sign.

Sometimes, it's easier than others. It's hopefully clear if the guy is married (though sadly this is not always the case) or if there is clearly no attraction on either side. Everything else can potentially be a sticky area...or what I'm calling the Grey Zone. I hate the Grey Zone for the exact same reasons I hate all things where we can't just be clear and upfront with what's going on. There are plenty of single cross-gender friendships that exist in the Grey Zone, and much of the time one person doesn't even know it. Sometimes both people know it, but don't know the other person knows it. And sometimes, both people know it and choose to remain in it because they have issues. I won't bother to waste much time on this dynamic - it is an unhealthy situation that two consenting adults choose to be in, which means only they choose to get out.

The Catch 22 with the Grey Zone is that when dealing with unspoken feelings, we are relying entirely on our own ability to intuitively read a situation -- which no one can do with complete accuracy, and most people can't do at all if their own feelings are involved. And with men and women being as generally clueless as they are about how the other operates (see letter of 2005), sometimes you get one big, fat mess. It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.

So how to best approach the Grey Zone? As someone who has had more than enough Grey Zone fun for this lifetime, my plea is mostly to the same gender friends out there. If you see a Grey Zone in their life, love your friend enough to ask the awkward question, to suggest they follow more strict boundaries or even initiate a conversation with their possibly attracted friend to get clarity and either start or end something...before someone gets really invested and really hurt. Unfortunately, sometimes hurt is inevitable. But I also believe drama is avoidable.

Chosen or Loser?

2008-05-31T02:40:00.000-07:00

I love watching award shows. I'm a sucker, not just because I'm somewhat obsessed with entertainment, but because the actors that have become characters on screen that have reached into my emotions and pulled something out are receiving acknowledgment for being my vicarious heroes. My favorite speeches are always the ones where the least expected gets the award. The actor or actress attempting to give a speech in the midst of authentic shock has always had a place in my heart.

This week, I got a job. And I felt like what Sarah Jessica Parker said accepting her first Emmy for Sex and the City, "I've never won anything in my life!" Although getting a job is a far cry from getting a Grammy or Oscar, I had a realization about why I find the underdog speech so compelling: I completely relate. In the week leading up to my hearing from my prospective employer, I found myself rationalizing every reason why I wouldn't get the job. I wondering if I wanted it enough for God to want to give it to me. I kept remembering the other two companies that seemed so positive about me, then let me know I wasn't selected in the end. I reminded myself how bad the job market is and how great the competition now -- where good friends of mine with great talent and experience are still jobless.

So when I got the phone call and the deal was sealed a day later, it forced the shock to the surface. Why was it so suprising to me that I would get something I wanted and needed? As I think about this question, I look over the last five months of this year with gratefulness and more than a little awe. There are many reasons why I know this year will stand out as a landmark year in my life. Beginning with great tragedy and grief that will continue to linger in some form always, I also found myself just a few months ago in a transitional void: no job, no gigs, no forseeable end to my singleness. But not even halfway through the year, I find that two of those three areas in my life are extravagantly provided for -- by no control or orchestration of my own.

It is difficult to see myself in general as someone chosen. This last key area of my life -- of the three, the biggest area of issues and failure in my life historically -- is one where that holds particularly true. But as I thank God ("the Academy," if we're going with the analogy) for taking care of me when I least expected it, I can start to hope that just maybe I am also the girl that gets the guy in the end.

On Not Being That Girl

2008-05-26T23:04:00.000-07:00

Speaking of That Girl, and coming to terms with not being her, I have also come to terms with the fact that there are many things I am not that many men are into. If we're talking about traditional gender types, I'm not the most girly girl out there. Rather than getting gushy over romantic comedies, I find most of them annoying or even offensive. And though I'm fine with initiating and sending signals of interest and enjoyment of a person, I can't shamelessly throw myself at them the way most girls do and respect myself in the morning. Over the years, I've learned to be responsible and take care of myself, but also don't want to be any guy's mom -- a role many women will gladly assume in exchange for a life-long boyfriend. I'm a DJ -- and last I checked, that was a largely male-dominated field (though the stats are slowly changing on that).

Perhaps I display more self-sufficiency or confidence than is comfortable for most men. I think at times, my speaking my mind has gotten me into trouble or put me in a box -- with both men and women. Many men want a damsel in distress, who can make them feel like a hero or savior. Others want the opposite -- someone who will cook them meals and set their calendars for them. And still others seem to want the hottest girlfriend trophy. As for me, I think Billy Joel said it best, "I just want someone that I can talk to." But as a girl with such varied interests and opinions as I have, I realize that is easier said than found.

"Too many guys think I'm a concept, or I complete them, or I'm gonna make them alive. But I'm just a f***ed-up girl who's looking for my own peace of mind." -- Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind

That Girl

2008-05-17T18:11:00.000-07:00

I have an odd ability to make myself the target of That Girl.

That Girl is most succinctly defined as the opposite of me in almost every way. She is generally very well put-together, usually more attractive than me, is incredibly insecure and has some need to find validation from a guy I'm somehow involved with -- whether romantically or not. Although I may try to be friendly to That Girl in a respectful, but non-ass-kissing way (I'm not a big ass kisser, which sometimes ends up hurting me), I somehow get into the line of target for That Girl's latest crazy-fest. She's sizing me up, she's critiquing me for being friendly with guys the way I'm friendly with girls, she's trying to one-up me in a contest I never signed up for and, frankly, don't understand.

The baffling thing about That Girl is that I can't get rid of her. When one goes away, another appears somewhere to create annoyance or unnecessary drama. Whatever may be said about my own issues, I sure am glad I'm not That Girl.

Just Not That Into Him

2008-05-12T23:33:00.000-07:00

As I have pondered my singleness lately, I have realized that as many times I have been interested in a guy who is not that into me, there even more guys I have come across that I'm just not that into.

A few years ago, whether or not I was attracted to someone felt like a big, muddled mess. I couldn't distinguish what reasons I liked this guy and not the other -- was it based on my issues and need to either be in control or take care of someone? Or was it because he was actually a good guy? My track record spoke more of the former.

But now, after my first healthy attraction in years, I can say with new confidence that growth has happened in my person. The fact that nothing has actually come of it is almost irrelevant. The good news is that I can actually trust myself again, and it's possible for me to be attracted to someone who has good character and love for God, as much as chemistry with me, sense of humor and common interests. Not like the disaster of 2003. Or of 1997. Or of 1992. But I digress. I must also concede that there have been interested guys that are perfectly good ones, but I'm just not that into them. And I take responsibility for how that has also kept me single over the years. No regrets either way.

My behavior in dating can be likened to my behavior in looking for jobs. In both areas, I get advice from everyone to cast the seed as widely as possible, and make myself open to many options. But I think I'm more in the phase of figuring out what I want and what my non-negotiables are. And though I'm trying to be open, and definitely not foolishly investing all my hopes into one job (or man), at heart I think I'm just a one-man, one-job-at-a-time kind of girl. And that's okay for now.

Still Standing

2008-04-22T13:32:00.000-07:00

A few months ago, I pretty much told God that I couldn't handle another disappointment in the area of romance. So meeting any guy, let alone one I connected with, was pretty loaded with terror.

But as I've taken on the new approach on my life of one day at a time, I've found myself able to trust God with this area of my life one day at a time. The journey has been at times exciting and full of hope, at other times incredibly scary and full of fear and self-protection. But as the first third of 2008 is rounding out, and I find doors closing on jobs and men who just aren't that into me, I find myself able to pick myself up, dust myself off and start all over again.

In a season where I look at my own life and those around me and actually see the hope and character that comes from suffering, I think this single adulthood thing isn't so bad -- even when it is.

The Sadder But Wiser Girl

2008-04-16T10:47:00.000-07:00

Once in a while, the clutter of thoughts about my present and future unknowns subsides and I remember the past, and how far I've come. I had a realization the other day that part of the difficulty of being single in your 30s and onward is that as you may have become an adult over the years -- by the grace of God -- not everyone else is growing alongside you. People you once looked up to may be in a similar rut as they were, or have changed in a way that is different from what you expected. Others may have quietly become personal heroes to you, that you might not have predicted just a few years ago. I guess that's the thing about a person's character; it is formed on deep within them, often times quietly.

Although I don't consider myself a person who has had to confront a lot of suffering in my life, I have had my share of loneliness, depression and disappointment. And I know from the little I've experienced of true suffering, that God has taken that and shaped me from it more than anything else has. Maybe part of being an adult is learning to receive even the suffering in your life as something God intends to redeem into something deep within your character. I'm grateful for the ways I can hope and care for people better because of my own scars.

"That's right, Eliza... You're a lady now." -- "My Fair Lady," 1964

Gesundheit

2008-04-12T02:41:00.000-07:00

In the movie "Singles," one of my all-time faves (and an oft neglected feather in Cameron Crowe's cap), character Janet (played by Bridget Fonda -- how I wanted to be her in high school) is asked by male buddy Steve what women want in a guy. She expounds on the ideals she brought with her when moving from her hometown that comprise a fairly inclusive summary of what most women have said or thought she has wanted in a guy: looks, security, caring, likes "the same things as me but not exactly," loves me, and says "bless you" or "gesundheit" when I sneeze. Steve follows up the question with a natural one: what is the list now? Janet has scaled it down over the years: "Someone who says 'gesundheit,' although I prefer 'bless you.' It's nicer."

At the time I first saw this movie, my list was probably strikingly similar to Janet's: sense of humor, attractive, considerate, knows and gets me, artsy but not too artsy, handy with house and finance matters, blah blah blah. Over time, every single woman must negotiate with her list. In Janet's case, implicitly this was mostly because she has been somewhat jaded by the reality of men out there. But other times, the whittling of the list comes with a maturing of expectations and a comfortability with who we are in ourselves. We can let go of the things we wanted in a guy that represent what we want people to think of us, or that pose potential risks of us getting hurt -- we get that hurt happens.

Now, if posed the question, my own list has been scaled down over the years. But my demand has maybe been too high for the men I've known thus far: that he just love me, and love God (the source of love). Well, most of the time anyway. He won't be perfect. He won't "get" me half the time, he might think some of the things I like are petty or lame (and vice versa), he will hopefully call me out when I get self-focused or controlling, and as much as i hate this one, he will definitely hurt me (though I would hope never willingly) and disappoint me, and I him.

Though I remain single as more friends have not only spouses but families now, I can't seem to let this one go off my list. But I don't know -- talk to me in a few years. Maybe I'll be down to "gesundheit."

Thank God for the Brothas

2008-04-05T13:09:00.000-07:00

Although my luck hasn't necessarily been in the area of romance, I have been extremely fortunate through my young adult life to have men in my life who care for me and love me in a way not every woman has. They value me in a unique way, and help restore my faith in mankind.

These men are the brother figures. They want to know how I'm doing, they are thoughtful and intentional in expressing my value to them, they are protective when I share about a fella I might be interested in, and they cheer me on and reaffirm ways I have grown over the years. They know me and remind me that I'm worth someone recognizing my value, but also encourage me to deal with life and people as they really are. They are safe places for me to be valued, sans B.S. to wade through.

I can't deny that God knows me and loves me when I think about these divine placements in my life over the years. He always seems to give me that needed encouragement through them at just the right time. A special shout-out to those who have loved me well, and taught me the blessing and healing of a healthy cross-gender friendship. I love you like a sister does: more than you could possibly know.

The Long Interview

2008-04-03T22:13:00.001-07:00

I just got through a 4 1/2 hour interview. I think it went okay, but after about hour 3, my brain (not used to all that talking and activity) started turning to mush. By the final interviewer, I'm not really sure what came out of my mouth, and I could feel myself stuttering just to get words out.

The interview process involves a strange game of cat and mouse. Once you've expressed interest and they've expressed interest back, no cards are fully revealed on either side until a mutual agreement of employment has been made. You might go on a second or even third interview, and think you knocked it out of the park, but never get a call back. You might answer one question the wrong way, and not know you just expressed a hot button for the company. You will generally get nothing but smiles, regardless of what they think of you.

It is not unlike the dating process in that way. You might express interest, he might respond in kind. You can go on a second or third date feeling like you're on a road somewhere, but never get a call back. Sometimes you understand where things went wrong, other times you don't. And like a job, dating is an at-will agreement -- whether it's you or him not feeling it's a good fit. Maybe it's not the right time, or the "job" has already been filled as you've been interviewing.

My life is all interviews right now. Sometime soon, I'm hoping to find the right fit, and hear the good news that I got the job.

Been There, Felt That

2008-03-31T21:56:00.000-07:00

As a single woman, sometimes it can feel like you just can't wait another day to meet someone -- anyone -- who might at least spark your interest. Sometimes it can feel like you have waited longer than anyone else in the world to meet someone, and feel like you have somehow been forgotten by God among the millions of needs and hurting people in the world. Or that you are the only one feeling the pain of unrequited feelings. Sometimes you look around at the increasing number of your married friends -- some who have been married for years now -- and it seems they have always been content and comfortable in their relationship.

But the truth is, you are not the only one. In fact, probably every person you know has been in your shoes or is in your shoes now. If I sit and think even for a moment about some of those friends, I quickly recall stories of angst and drama -- some that lasted for years and years -- that were part of the road to getting where they are now. I recall the same frustration and waiting and wondering, I recall healing processes that sometimes involved painful rejection and disappointment over again. And I recall reality -- that even just a week or two ago, this friend told me about a frustrating dynamic in her marriage, and that friend shared about her husband's struggle with forgiveness.

Though it doesn't make me feel better to remember some of the painful roads my own friends have taken, it does help snap me out of my own false bubble of isolation. It spurs me on to trust God with another day of my life as an adult, choosing to hold on not knowing what the future holds. And it reminds me that I'm normal.

Chasing Cinderella

2008-03-27T00:01:00.000-07:00

Over the years, I have confronted my own obsession with the Prince Charming, perfect guy fantasy. Over this year in particular, I have given up the ghost as dwelled upon in previous posts. I'm living in both the harshness and freedom of embracing reality head-on. There's no feeling quite like knowing you have overcome what used to be such a paralyzing issue, even if it means dealing with the terrifying issues of real life.

The problem is, you can't bring others with you on a personal journey through healing. Everyone must brave their own alone. And if the single men around you are still living with ghosts in their closet -- or one ghost -- what is a single woman to do? I have tried competing with a fantasy before, and I lose every time.

As much as I love Silent Bob, it turns out his Hollywood story about chasing Amy is all too common, and has become a real liability. And real girls like myself go back to the drawing board. Hopefully we'll find a real guy someday, who has real issues like ours.

What Does Settling Sound Like?

2008-03-22T11:04:00.000-07:00

My friend sent me this article published on The Atlantic.com:
http://www.theatlantic.com/doc/200803/single-marry

The topic of "settling" starts to become a regular visitor to the thoughts of anyone single and over 30. You just went through a decade of watching friends get married to sweethearts, and suddenly you are almost out of single friends of the opposite sex. For better or for worse, you are left in a lot of those who did not settle.

But settling, like any facet of relationships, is not a black and white issue. The word connotes something negative in all of our minds -- who wants to settle for something less than what they want? I grew up settling for things because my mom didn't want to pay a certain amount or because she just didn't like what I liked. So as an adult, I've had to face my own inner child, that wants to demand things exactly as she wants them -- she's done settling.

Enter adulthood. The older you get, the more you realize almost nothing in this world is all one thing or all another -- all good or all bad. And hopefully, the fantasies that have been constantly spoon-fed down your throat since you left the womb about Prince Charming, perfect soul mates and matches made in heaven are starting to get stripped from your adult mind and you are exchanging it for reality. In that sense, everything we choose involves some amount of "settling," because nothing in this world is perfect. It's just different -- each with its own set of great and not so great things. The question isn't whether or not you should settle -- it's about knowing what you can settle for.

I appreciate much of what the writer of this article, Lori Gottlieb, is saying inasmuch as she bucks the whole notion of romantic dreams come true. We just don't hear that enough in our culture. But I do believe that romantic love is out there for everyone -- maybe just not in the way we've been brainwashed into thinking. For me, the most compelling part of the article comes she says: "Women across the country are poring over guidebooks that all boil down to determining, 'Does he like me?,' while completely overlooking the equally essential question, 'Do I like him?'" A woman with a crush is generally a woman in love with a fantasy of the man she has met, so rejection will feel like the one perfect man meant for you just labeled you not good enough. The reality is, he is not that one perfect man; he is just man. And if those particular imperfections either prevent him from appreciating who you are or have rendered him emotionally incapable, then who needs that? That's living in reality.

I could go on about this topic, but what do I really know? I apparently haven't settled either way.

Mr. Not-So-Perfect, "Shopgirl," 2005

My Best Friend's Wedding

2008-03-17T21:20:00.000-07:00

Over the weekend, one of my best friends got married. It was overall a joyful day. There is nothing like celebrating with someone close to you - it was the happiest I've ever been for a friend getting married.

But in the strange season life happens to be for me right now, there was a hint of sadness for me as well. As I prepared my toast for my good friend over the week, I found myself in a mix of intense emotion. Joanie was getting married - something I had hoped, prayed and suffered with her over the years. It meant a prayer answered, but it also meant the end of a season in our friendship. I found myself in the midst of adulthood, wondering where the time had gone and when we had all grown up. I looked around me and realized with both joy and sadness that things had changed. Joy for the ways I have grown and seen my suffering turn into character and hope over the years, sadness for the unique lightness of young adulthood that was gone and never to be returned to. And I was escorted into the reception by two groomsmen because of the absence of a bridesmaid, our friend Midi. Things have changed, indeed.

2008 continues to be the year of facing the reality of life, stripped of all fantasy that any situation I can conjure up will magically complete me. No man, job, friendship or status can be perfect or make me someone I'm not - all of the best of these things still bring their own share of suffering. It is a reality of both hope and pain, of waiting and living, of being both scared of the future and completely secure in what it may bring. And I go forward knowing what you never want to admit in your 20s - that you can't insist on your own way in life, and maybe that's for the best.

March 15, 2008 with my two best friends

Today

2008-02-28T22:53:00.000-08:00

I think life changed for myself and many others at the beginning of this year in losing my friend, Midi. As for me, I began to see how much pain we bear in this life. As I posted a few weeks ago, we change whenever anything dies in our lives. The reality is, just as new things happen and new things are born everyday, countless things and people die everyday as well. It is the surest sign that this world is not as it was intended to be -- that pain we feel, the suffering of loss and grief of death are signs that something is not right.

What I have been learning about myself and about human nature is that we don't know how to handle pain. Some of us run from it for dear life, some of us wallow, some get angry, some blame themselves, and I think all of us fear that it will happen again. I am guilty of doing all of the above at some point in my life.

But today is a new day, in a new time after January 1 of this year. Everyday I feel in some way that things are not as they should be. I have had moments of looking around me and wondering when things and people changed as they did. When did I lose that closeness with this friend, or when did I find myself not caring about the same things, or feeling the same as the people around me? Oddly enough, I think this is a pain of growing up. And instead of responding in the ways I used to, I'm learning to accept the state that I am in in this world right now, today. For me, it is a season of living day by day. Because today's troubles are enough for today. And whatever it is I'm going through, I can get through it 24 hours at a time.

The Worthwhile Wait

2008-02-15T00:26:00.000-08:00

I hate waiting. There is nothing like bad traffic or long lines to bring out the expletives. But the more I've thought about it, the more I realize life is all about waiting. When a major life threshold is crossed, there is always something new to wait for. In a larger sense, we are always in waiting for a thing that is bigger and grander than what we have now. But waiting is a constant reminder that we are not in control. And that pushes my buttons.

A problem with waiting may look on the surface like impatience or anxiety. But underneath it, I see in myself a fear of being disappointed the way I've been in the past, and an anticipation that it will only happen again. My fear is that my needs and desires go unnoticed by God and I'll be left hung out to dry. On the flip side, the cure for my impatience I think will only be found when I resolve those issues from the past and find a new freedom to hope for what is to come, whatever it may be. To say you have hope for anything is much easier said than practiced. If I really was a person of hope, the wait is simply part of the journey and part of the anticipation. Like a period of engagement, it is filled with activity and excitement for what is to come.

And so I return to square one. I may not get this job, or that guy, or this other gig. But I'm determined to hope and dream bigger, and believe that goodness and mercy will follow me all the days of my life. Though it may take everything to reverse the cynicism bred in me from my youth, I resolve to live for today and wait in hope for tomorrow. No more waiting in vain, Bob.

The Available Sign

2008-02-13T23:47:00.000-08:00

Although we technically no longer live in the era where we need to depend on a dowry and willing male suitor, or a time of arranged marriages, I don't know if there will ever be a time where the single woman has full say in whether or not she gets the man.

Despite the movements of women's liberation, feminism and the like, when you boil it all down we women still want to be cared for in a relationship where we are not playing Mom to our mates. I include myself in a line of women who still believe that it is the man's job to ultimately lead in a relationship -- not in a patriarchal, chauvinistic way, but in a grown man with balls way. I have male friends who agree with me on this, more knowing that it's as good for them as it is for us. And having gone the "take charge" way before and have it backfire miserably, I don't need much more convincing.

Which is not to say women sit back and hope and pray for the him to show up on our doorstep like a FedEx Christmas present. There are certainly ways to send signals of openness and communicate interest. But what do we do when we are all out of our bag of tricks? We find ourselves right back in the middle of Jane Austen England, where if he's just not that into you or if he doesn't have the guts to respond, the lady is S.O.L.

Sometimes I wish we lived in a society (does one even exist out there?) where we could all just be upfront with our cards. "I like you," "I don't like you," "I like you but am emotionally unavailable." Sometimes the signs-only world that is our dating culture gets very tiresome, and I'd say gets us all into more complicated situations than not. Maybe we're all a little too afraid of hurting each other's feelings. But I'll take hurt feelings any day over mixed signals for months. It's a time saver... and at 31 that counts for a lot.

Singlefemalitis

2008-02-09T17:17:00.000-08:00

There are times I walk around feeling like I have a disease: Singlefemalitis. The disease is experienced by all who remain single into their early 30s, who have a decent sense of humor and set of social skills. Symptoms manifest only around certain couples and certain single men, and bring out reactions in these parties that include fear, awkwardness, jealousy and confusion.

I can manage well enough in my condition around couples. I'm sensitive to the adverse effects it can have, so I try to make a point of interacting as much with the female as male counterparts to make all feel at ease -- especially if I share any kind of common bond with the male. It can get hard when male friends of mine are in need to know I can't just reach out as I might have freely done in my college years or even a few years ago, when the disease was more widespread and boundaries not as needed. As a result, sometimes you will just lose touch with people -- both male and female -- merely because of your single condition.

For me, the disease is more difficult around the single men who aren't interested and can't shake the fear of Singlefemalitis. It brings out in them the fear of giving you the wrong idea. I don't know what's worse: that I am seen only for my singleness, not beyond that as a person or friend; or that it is presumed that I'm so hungry for companionship and respite from the condition that they'll somehow get sucked into it with no escape. I wanna tell them, "Dude, I'm okay with it -- can we be adults and move on?" But things being how they are, certain things are just not okay to say.

And so I continue to deal with my disease day to day. Most of the time I hardly feel its effects, and often even enjoy its benefits. But it only takes a weird vibe to remind me that sometimes my singleness can be a discomfort to more than just myself.

Heart-crack, heartbreak

2008-01-26T02:02:00.000-08:00

January was the longest month I've been through for maybe as far back as I can remember at this point. As a child, every month seemed to stretch on forever. When you're an adult, only a very significant event seems to slow it down -- as if your reference point for "beginning" has been reset.

As I've been contemplating many things during that long month, and beginning on a road of healing over the loss of a friend, I have been struck by the fact that no one is replaceable in this world. Every person is completely unique in their thoughts, loves, qualities, perceptions. So when you lose someone in your life, you change as well.

When you lose someone in a breakup, you might become jaded or bitter, but hopefully instead you learn from the experience and become more healed and whole instead. When you lose someone permanently, you might find your fears about life and death surfacing, or grief may give way to anger or hopelessness. But hopefully, instead you find new conviction in the things you believe, and urgency to give meaning to the time you have here. Either way, when loss occurs in relationships, it is impossible to stay just the same. People touch eachother's lives in deep ways, and when they leave it is up to us to process and ultimately choose what that change is to become in us.

We can even experience multiple losses at once. In one fragile state, we can experience another blow. It might feel like a mere bruise or cut in comparison the broken leg most of our emotional energy is being expended on, but the bruise or cut inflicted must still heal as well.

I walk around with a limp this month. And though I'm feeling the pain in more than one place, I'm determined to be healed in hope for the better, not in resignation for the worse. I'm prepared for the prognosis of "long recovery period" -- it often is with our hearts.

Single, But Never Alone

2008-01-11T23:32:00.000-08:00

Today I watched my good friend and her beloved son get buried. It was the closest death I've ever experienced, and the loss of a great woman. The last couple of weeks have felt like a couple of months, and there is a seemingly permanent ache that moves from the pit of my stomach to my chest and then back again. It disappears for brief moments, when disbelief has suspended the pain of reality. But it can return like a ton of bricks again at any time.

But over the past couple of weeks, I have also been reminded of some important things -- things I realize I couldn't live without. One, I referred to in my previous post already. Were it not for the promise that life here on earth is just a shadow of life and joy to come, a grain of sand on the beach of eternity, and that I will see my friends Midi and Nathan again, I would fall apart or find some temporary delusion to make myself feel better.

In addition to that promise, I have been overwhelmed and grateful for the community of friends I am priviledged to know and be a part of. These people have a love in them that brings us together in a time like this to ensure that no one will be alone in a time of great suffering. They come together and put all things aside to rightly honor a great friend and woman before 500+ witnesses of her love and life. I can connect with friends I haven't seen for years, and it's as though not a day has gone by -- except that we are each deeper and wiser for our experiences since then, not jaded and bitter as many get. And as I have spoken with others about the tragedy that has befallen my friend, I have been reminded that most people in this world don't have that. Many suffer and die alone.

Many people say a loved one that has just passed away was amazing, extraordinary or special. Many also say their friends are the greatest people in the world. But I lost a truly extraordinary friend last week, and it makes grieving her loss a weighty thing indeed. But I also celebrate her life with truly the greatest people in the world - the kindest, most genuine, funny, and loving. I have the priviledge of knowing people who have surrendered their lives to the only thing that can transform us beyond the surface and into the core of who we are, and be selfless in a way no one makes it their business to be. I don't think I could live without these things, but I also know it is a luxury none of us deserve.

I don't often get all God in this blog, but I have a lot to say this week about things that feel much more pressing than relationships and dating. The last and most important thing I have been reminded of is the true treasure and reality of my friendship with God. And of all people, it is my friend Mark who has just suffered this immense loss, that has reminded me of this. He survives with an immeasurable hole in his heart, and it is because his God is bigger than that hole in a way we don't understand. And as I have pondered the fleeting nature of this life and how we each have a beginning and end date here in this life, it has forced me to know more than ever that the constants in my life are unseen -- they souls and spirit, and life that has been breathed into body. And God has brought me through these last two long weeks and will continue to be my friend to lament my loss this year and beyond.

For all of these things, I could be single for the rest of my life, but I know I won't be alone.

2008: Nothing's Ever Promised Tomorrow Today

2008-01-03T22:18:00.000-08:00

I don't know that anyone is ever prepared when death comes upon a loved one. But in most circumstances, you have some warning: a grandmother with Alzheimer's disease, a father with cancer, or just plain old age that makes a person vulnerable. Of course, that never makes it feel any less shocking when it actually hits. Suddenly, this very important, beloved person in your life is no longer there. Life passes to death in a moment, and there is no preparation for knowing you'll never be able to talk or laugh with them again.

I just lost a dear friend to a very sudden and untimely, hit-and-run car accident on New Year's Day. One of her twin sons was also taken by the crash. Her husband and their other son survive them. And the fragility of life and all that we think we possess have startlingly been brought to my attention to start off this new year of 2008.

Though my heart is heavy and things in my life that seemed so important just a few days ago suddenly seem much smaller and yet much more difficult to do, I'm humbled by her husband's response in the midst of a bigger personal tragedy than most people will ever experience: That in heartbreak, he is so grateful for the time he had with his wife and 4-year-old son, which he sees as undeserved gifts to him from God, and that he'll see them again soon as life is short in the span of eternity. Some people may call this crazy talk -- I say they are the words of a man who knows well that God loves him and is unchangingly good, even when we are thrust into circumstances we may never understand the reason for. These are things I myself am still trying to learn...

As I begin what I've already been sensing is a new season of my life marked by the end of 2007, I do so with this perspective: that my life and all that it entails is borrowed, not anything I'm entitled to. We are all dust in the end. As for me, I believe there's something far more amazing that awaits after death, though I know not all carry that same hope. And I'm grateful that gives me the one thing that can't be taken away.

My friend's last words to me were in passing when I saw her at a wedding a few weeks ago. They were in regards to plans we were making for my best friend's upcoming bachelorette party: "Tina, please tell me we're not doing Thunder Down Under!" Her great sense of humor matched her beauty and life. And god, I'll miss her.

Midi Kim Mikasa -- we will grieve your loss for months and years to come. I know I can only strive to be the person of quiet, genuine love and joy you were. The world lost one of its great saints yesterday, and we know it.

Marriage is a Dirty Word

2007-12-15T11:44:00.000-08:00

Not so long ago, we had movies like "Runaway Bride" and "So I Married An Axe Murderer" that poked fun at the issues surrounding fear of marriage. Each still resolved itself in the girl in a white dress as the credits rolled. Then a few years back, "Forces of Nature" (a personal favorite of mine but hated by the critics, with reason) went a level deeper, putting Ben Affleck into the throes of temptation on the verge of his nuptials. He takes a step in, but in a very anti-worldly move, gets his head back in the end and teaches us all a lesson about love and commitment.

Nowadays, marriage has been redefined by our media. It is often the empty shell that represents doing what we're expected to, or false hope, or foolish, immature escape from real love - that of course exists outside of marriage. Movies, both comedy and drama -- "Little Children," "The Hearbreak Kid," "Notes on a Scandal," "Spanglish," "Finding Neverland," "Closer" to name a few -- directly or indirectly attack marriage as a B.S. institution.

Cable TV's new sensation, "Californication" does the same. Today's modern family can be seen in David Duchovney's on-again, off-again relationship with a woman and their child. The first season's climactic ending leaves off with her leaving a man at the altar and running off with Duchovney. Although I haven't seen the show, it all sounded very "General Hospital" to me. A friend of mine recently told me how his watching of the show made him really question the purpose of marriage for the first time. "Is the point to blow a lot of money on a fancy wedding, or to marry rich and get a good lump sum when the marriage ends? Or is it just for the facade of security with someone you don't really love? I don't know about marriage..." was his sad, jaded conclusion.

The problem with making mass media our guide to living (don't get me started) is that though the fantasy worlds of TV and movies are so persuasive -- with their hot actors and so-called happy endings and all -- we don't seem to pick up on the fact that our problem is our obsession with finding that happy ending in a person. In Chris Rock's "Never Scared" HBO special, he expounds on the dilemma of "married and bored or single and lonely," saying there's no happiness anywhere. Although I don't quite agree with the hopelessness of this diatribe, I appreciate the honest treatment of a subject matter that often has all its hopes lumped into one category or another. As our generation awakens to the reality of the difficulty of marriage -- that it's not what will make all of our wildest dreams come true -- we are now putting our hopes in extra-marital affairs to make it all better. The problem is, people are still people whether you are married or single or having an affair. We are all one big, hot mess.

I wonder what the next wave of TV and movies will bring when we realize that that wasn't the answer either.

Unattainable or Defective?

2007-12-10T13:03:00.000-08:00

I know an older single person who was asked once why he wasn't dating and whether he was interested in getting married at this point in his life. His answer regarding his options: "Well, you figure if a car's been on the lot that long, what's wrong with it?"

As a single person myself, I don't feel like I'm yet at the point of no return. I'm not "old," even by my standards, and though most of my friends are married with babies or kids, there are still single guys out there. But it does beg the question - who's left?

I used to complain about the guy who always went after the "unattainable" girl and then got her - like somehow he was enticed by the chase of the unattainable. But really, if he got her then she really wasn't unattainable. In fact, if we are staying true to definition, it's the still single people who are unattainable. We literally haven't been got. And maybe that's the problem.

As I've started looking around, I've realized that we are all cars with missing engine parts. Some just don't have the parts missing that make them flee from relationships like others do. And I have to take responsibility for my own faulty engine.

Still, I have no regrets so far. My happily married friends don't know how to rock a dancefloor like I do... and I consider that a gift of singleness.

Lesson 1: Don't Do That

2007-11-16T12:11:00.000-08:00

As a female DJ, I realize some advances I receive are a-typical in context but I think in content probably not all that different. Here are two scenarios with the same lesson to single men everywhere: Don't Do That. I'll italicize particular Don't Dos and give footnotes for easy learning.

SCENARIO 1:
- (strange man makes his way to talk to me at Barcopa, standing about 6 inches from me* as he speaks) "I noticed you dancing from over there - are you really into music?"
- "Actually yes, I'm one of the DJs here."
- "Oh really? I'm here with a friend of mine from Bad Boy...I work with industry people a lot**."
- "I see. I'm sorry, did you say you're a musician?"
- "No, no... I'm from New York and I (blah blah blah not making sense - he also has more of a southern accent than NY, but whatever) but I have a lot of connections in the music industry. I actually am not much of a club person - but once in a while I like to get out, mix it up, meet some hos..." (I'm trying to take a step back to create personal space, he keeps moving in so his breath is on my damn face and now he's touching my arm for effect with the "hos" comment***)
- "huh-huh..." (that's me not really laughing and giving him my "did you just call me a ho?" look)
- "So can I have a dance?"
- "Thank you, I'm very flattered but I don't think so."
- "Can I buy you a drink?"
- "I don't drink actually...but thank you."
- "Can I just get you anything at all?"
- "You can get me a bottle of water if you want."
(after getting me a bottle of water and trying to force me to dance with him****, I politely tell him to buzz off. Good. Lord.)
* I am generally not a person with a huge need for personal space. With people I'm close with, or have known and bonded with for more than 30 minutes, I am very free. But if you are a complete stranger to me, don't be all up in my face like you're about to swallow me whole.
** As a DJ who has had to deal with a Crazy Promoter Man already, don't pull that line on me. It only serves as a red flag.
*** I'm sorry, did you just call me a ho? And do you really not know why that's not a turn-on?
**** I'm all for being pursued by a guy where it has been established that he is actually interested in me as a person. But if we are at a bar or club and you just called me a ho, so it's clear to all what is happening here, no means no. And not taking no for an answer really just hurts your cause.

Take-Aways for the dude: If you're interested in having an actual conversation with me, we could hit it off. If you're looking for a ho, we definitely won't.

SCENARIO 2 setup: I'm DJ-ing a middle of the night, prime time dancefloor set and notice a guy trying to get my attention. As a DJ, most of the time people trying to get your attention are wanting to make requests.
- "Hi, can I help you?"
- "Hi, what's your name?"
- "Um...Tina, or DJ Mixtine."
- "Hi, I'm Blah-blah-blah. Why don't you come dance with me?*"
- (silent for a moment...unsure of how to state the obvious politely, so I give up) "I'm DJ-ING right now." (hand gestures indicate this actually requires concentration and me not being on the dancefloor)
- "Well how about you take a break or something?"
- "I'm sorry, I need for you to leave me alone right now." (go back to DJ-ing, have now missed a cue and need to find a song)
- "Well how about I get you a drink? Do you want some food?"
- (annoyed, talk to the hand gesture - he finally goes away)
*I'll just make some overall commentary on what not to do. If a girl is DJ-ing, maybe you should WAIT 'TIL SHE'S DONE to try and have this conversation. And as a girl who inherited her mom's propensity to her to speak her mind that can sometimes backfire, I should have been nicer about telling the guy to buzz off. There's no need to be rude, even to the slimey.

Hopefully, this was an enlightening lesson for all. I know I learned a couple of things...

The Crazy Ex-Girlfriend

2007-11-16T11:20:00.000-08:00

Sometimes a single female such as myself will find herself the victim of a beast more terrible than she could nightmare up: The Crazy Ex-Girlfriend.

Although there may in fact be nothing remotely romantic or physical going on between you and your male friend who broke her heart, the fact that you are friends may be enough fodder to awake the beast. For whatever reason -- maybe you share a hobby with said male friend -- you are spending some time with the guy, he's helping you out, and then you encounter Crazy. Crazy will do anything to manipulate situations to make you feel smaller than her and establish herself in some imaginary fourth-grade seat of power. The worst part is, no one else in her sphere sees this because the rest of her domain consists of mostly men, who we all know are mostly blind to the manipulative workings of a woman - especially if she's hot - which suprisingly Crazy often is. Hot generally masks the Crazy for a good period of time.

After trying to be the bigger person and just let things go, and knowing full well if you bring things up with your male buddy that you will come off as the crazy one, there may come a point where a line has been crossed and a conversation must be had. Although frustrating, you may find that in most cases, Crazy is just incredibly insecure (which you probably figured) + incredibly un-self-aware. Not a good combo, and equally hard to reason with as an actual insane person. But with some willingness to confront Crazy and stand up for yourself while giving a little dallop of ego massage and extra measure of grace, things can be smoothed over.

In my own encounters with Crazy, I have had to swallow a rather large pill of pride. Although I did get a lot of trying to turn the tables on me, very little acceptance of responsibility and a very begrudging apology, it was an apology nonetheless and I needed to forgive her and be the bigger person because you can't really blame Crazy for not knowing any better. I don't know what her background is, but it's safe to assume Crazy generally wasn't loved enough as a child and that deserves compassion. Even if she was taking that out on you in the process. Crazy and I will probably never be best friends or even close, but at least civility and, more importantly, accountability have been reached. Thank God one of us at least has taken in some hard lessons in dealing with conflict -- it sure as hell prepares you for the ultimate test of managing Crazy.

Mental note: Crazy Ex can be a red flag for any guy you might be interested in. Especially if he still doesn't see it.

Reflections at 31...and a few days

2007-08-23T23:24:00.000-07:00

Yesterday I saw "Becoming Jane," and realized that although I don't live in a time where my options are limited to only those of a certain financial status (although I wouldn't mind, being currently unemployed and all), I'm limited in the scarcity of mutual romantic feeling in my life. Unlike Jane Austen, I haven't the luxury of a forbidden love. It's been years since I've really felt anything for anyone that has lasted longer than a couple of weeks, and I'm currently wondering if my heart has shriveled up into an uninspired, jaded little prune.

I have been glad for this year of being Mixtine. Spinning out, navigating the politics of DJ-ing, throwing myself into something I love in the face of my own fears. And though I don't plan on stopping those efforts to put myself out there as a DJ, I also wonder if 31 is the year for me to put my heart out there again.

August 11 in London

Beware of Hot Genius Man

2007-02-13T23:33:00.000-08:00

Sometimes there's nothing more attractive than a man who does something really well. The stereotype of the handyman who rescues a damsel from home improvement distress may not apply to all, but there is a virtuoso in some walk of life that will just push that button for you. He's worked hard to be one of the best in his field, and when you see him in action you get those swirly things in your eyes and suddenly you're in Fantasyland. The problem with Boy Wonder though, is just that. He has spent his whole life wholly committed to one thing: his field of expertise. He probably has a few broken relationships, maybe even kids (though of course he's not married), or he doesn't get into relationships at all because he just isn't in the habit.

The older you get, the more accessible these celebrity types become. My theory is that it is partly because they have remained single for the above stated reasons. But whatever the case may be, you -- or I, rather -- as a single person may need to confront an interested virtuoso, and not just get swept up in the romance of his art. For a girl with passion in music and food, particular weaknesses lie with excellent DJs and young, hot chefs.

But at a certain point, you read enough tabloids on divorce and bitterness, and consider your own tendencies to fall for the wrong man, and it may become very clear that you gotta hold out.

New Year for a New Single Self

2007-01-03T17:42:00.000-08:00

Not everyone celebrates Christmas or Hanukkah, and the holidays mean different things to different people depending on whether or not family or loved ones are accessible (emotionally or physically). But everyone seems to feel the hope a new year brings. As someone who does celebrate Christmas and believe in Jesus (though it's a struggle sometimes in the worst sides of me), I don't think it's an accident that somehow Jesus' birth is celebrated just before the new year. I quote my favorite Christmas song says: "Then he appeared and the soul felt its worth; A thrill of hope -- the weary world rejoices; For yonder breaks a new and glorious morn."

Whatever the last year was for you, it was probably a great many things unexpected as it is every year for us. We never know what kind of turns in relationships -- even close friendships, new attractions, self-realizations and hopes realized and disappointed will come our way in the 525,600 minutes we have to think, feel and respond to what comes our way. For some, a good cathartic session of crying in mourning may help clear that palate for 2007. For others, a time of thinking over lessons learned and new goals to set either personally or vocationally.

I started 2006 determined to find the right man. Instead, I found a few not-so-right men. But after my own cathartic cry on January 1 mourning more than a few things from 2006 (and let's be honest, things into childhood), I find myself hopeful for the clean slate of 2007. Losers, winners, personal failures and breakthroughs, things perfect and not perfect -- bring it. In the words of Cliff Poncier of Citizen Dick, "all this negative energy -- it only makes me stronger."

True or untrue? "Life is short, stay single."

The Name is Bond; James Baggage Bond

2006-11-26T23:11:00.000-08:00

After watching Casino Royale, the prequel to the James Bond male fantasy escapades we know and love for spectacular action and ample eye candy, suddenly the decades-old movie franchise has a sadder, more bitter taste. Bond's precision as an agent and charisma as a lady's man actually boil down to a lot of pain and avoidance underneath.

I think about myself and the people around me, and it isn't long before I stumble across the baggage that drives so much of our decisions and chosen ways of life. Some go from relationship to relationship looking for anything that will keep them from facing their own fears of loneliness, while others refrain in fear of intimacy -- maybe they've been burned before. Some lose themselves in work or hobbies or social causes, anything to protect ourselves from how we are really doing.

As for me, coming out of a long weekend makes me think of some of the baggage that I'm still waiting on God to pick up and maybe moreso myself to invite him to sift through the pile with me: this crushed bag of a friendship I lost, that fragile parcel of former boyfriend's happiness, this appliance of my fears and insecurities, that pile of fantasies I never should have bought. And the list goes on.

I haven't lost hope yet though. There's always the mercy and goodness of God that's chasing me down. And the more I see in myself and around me, it is my only hope.

Self-protection much?

Married Metamorphosis

2006-11-07T10:17:00.000-08:00

"You realize of course that men and women can never be friends." -- When Harry Met Sally

Although many cross-gender friendships may attempt to belie this, there has to be some truth to it -- especially the older you get. Somewhere in your early 20s, you stop making those brother-sister, androgynous bonds and suddenly initiation of new friendship with the opposite sex is just different. I have some male friends, but I also have plenty more I have almost completely lost touch with since they entered the big M. And I don't begrudge them for it -- I understand that truth in Harry's words, applicable in greater or lesser degrees. Some wives don't feel comfortable if hubby's got cozy hangouts with single women from his past single life, and depending on the woman and depending on the hubby, that is fair enough.

But as a still-single woman, it makes me think of a few things. One, it sure is a bummer to lose some healthy friendships with not much more than an unspoken understanding that such are the changing seasons of life. Two, I can't deny that I'm glad for now to not be in those shoes. Gives me a little more quality time with those friends I might eventually lose. Call it the single-married trade-off, and for now I get to keep those friends...and my independence.

PS. R.I.P. Bruno Kirby. :(

There Is No "Fun Bobby"

2006-11-01T16:04:00.000-08:00

In season 2 of "Friends," Monica rekindles a relationship with a character the friends call "Fun Bobby." Through the course of the show, we see that Fun Bobby only lives up to the first part of his name when he's had a few too many: He's the funny, charming life-of-the-party as long as he's a little tipsy. Without, he's just a semi-depressed guy with a handful of boring stories.

But in my experience, Fun Bobby doesn't actually exist. At the risk of waxing after-school-special, I have never met anyone I preferred drunk to sober. If anything, the slurred, semi-adolescent advances of a Fun Bobby are more Sad Bobby to me, and quickly turn to Really Lonely and Maybe Depressed Bobby if he absolutely needs the bottle to have a enjoy himself. Sad, because Sober Bobby is so much more interesting to me -- he has actual thoughts, reactions, sensitivity, even insecurities that all say something about who he really is and what his life experiences have been. And anyone who isn't enough themselves without a drink does not magically become that with -- it's just a symptom that something else is wrong. "Fun" Bobby is only surpasses him in uninhibitedness (is that even a word?). But when you remove inhibition, sometimes all you get is Too Much, Too Fast. And while my heart goes out to that guy, I guess what I'm really interested in is the real, "Un-Fun" guy.

Sell Crazy Someplace Else -- We're All Stocked Up Here

2006-10-31T15:21:00.000-08:00

In the name of "being more open," one must also be prepared to confront the Crazies who will think the open door is actually just for them. In reality, you wish you could have one of those secure, always locked doors with a small doggie door for only men with the right criteria to fit through -- sort of like that toddlers game where you fit shapes into a big 3-D hexagon . But I've tried the secure locked door thing and it only got me passive men.

Crazy Man will start like any other -- he may ask you out and in the name of being open you might accept. But when the calls and emails exceed 4-5/hour (and mind you, you barely know the guy), it's safe to then append the label. In the words of Big Daddy Kane, "Play like Roy Rogers and SSLLOOOWWW DOWN." Time for a conversation -- which may have to happen face-to-face if he's just not getting it. You can always hope that Crazy Man will become just Weird Man or Socially Clueless Man the more you get to know him, but you should always execute sound judgment of course.

My personal takeaways from Crazy Man: 1-No need to fear, I really can lay down the line. 2-The bar is set pretty low if we're at: I'll date you if I don't fear you. I don't think I'm willing to be *that* open.

The Single Guy, the Dating Guy and the Single-Dating Guy

2006-10-20T22:01:00.000-07:00

To make up for lost time, I have a trifecta of issues to present.

Single Guy is maybe the most common. He talks a lot about his need to find a woman. It constantly peppers his casual conversation, his jokes about himself and pretty much everyone around him, and he might even make a flirtatious joke or two -- but he will never ask you out. Single Guy is usually in his 20s, since as I've established before, it's our generation's period of adolescence and insecurity. But sometimes Single Guy is older. Maybe he's gone through something rough and is eager for companionship but scared out of his mind to get rejected.

Dating Guy is also pretty common. His dating life is so active you have trouble keeping up. He changes girls more often than you do your laundry. He has probably flirted with you before, and you've probably crossed his mind since you know just about everyone else has, but he's so busy trying to find someone he can feel like he can take care of, who won't rock his world too much, or just getting thrilled by the chase, that he forgets to ask himself what he really wants. So he remains restless.

Lastly, we all know Single-Dating Guy, but he's a little less common (thank God). He sends signals our way, he might create excuses to take you out one-on-one, he's getting to know you. By all external signs, he's an interesting guy who is initiating with you and has dating on the brain. He might do things like make playful bets as an excuse to take you out. He responds positively to all social initiation you make with him. But like a bad movie twist ending, you eventually find out -- hopefully sooner rather than later -- that Single Guy is actually Single-Dating Guy. He's got a girlfriend that for some reason he neglects mentioning in all of your conversations about "dating in general," in your flirtatious encounters and in your innocent one-on-one get to know you sessions.

As for me, i've been interested in all three at various points in my life. But now I'm 30 and I just refuse to deal with that anymore. I'm looking for That Guy. Rather than listing out a bunch of idealistic criteria -- which I know better now than to do -- I'll settle for now for someone normal with good communication skills, who will ask me out. ;-)

There's No Crying in DJ-ing

2006-10-19T11:01:00.000-07:00

To summarize the last absence, here are a few lessons I've learned:
- Being 30 has given me a new sense of boundaries. How oft have I said to myself, "I'm 30, I refuse to deal with _______ anymore." (Blanks could include things like passive aggressives, chaotic rummage sales, immaturity in my living space, self-absorbed men, mean people in general, unmatching socks, etc.)
- There's no crying in DJ-ing. Like baseball, it's predominantly a man's world. Like all things, there are a lot of politics involved. And if you're a woman in a man's world, you'd better be ready to prove yourself.
- We are all motivated to do crazy things by our emotions and desires. Case: I ran a five-mile race because De La Soul was at the finish line with a free concert. Because they are the real thing.
- When one of your best friends starts dating a great guy after 13 years of singlehood, it's a happy day.

Thank God It's 30

2006-08-30T00:43:00.000-07:00

There are worse things in life than turning 30. Like turning 29. Unlike I had expected, turning 30 was actually somewhat of a relief. Finally done with the terrible 20s, and again at the bottom of a fresh, new, clean slate of a decade. My friends who made it past the age 27 suicide statistic and actually used their 20s to work out their issues all tell me the 30s are better, and they don't have to tell me twice. Things could really only go up from the dark year of 2003.

So here is the quick and dirty list of lessons learned and words to live by out of that angstful, character-building decade whose 2 prefix will thankfully never start my age off again (unless of course, I make it to 200):
- My friend Doug once said growing up (as with many good things) takes a lot of choice and hard work, it doesn't just naturally happen. True.
- 20s think their minor issues can be worked through in a few heartfelt conversations, 30s know it took them a good few years in counseling (and counting...).
- 20s think they have reached mature adult self-awareness, 30s know they were going through delayed puberty and rebellion.
- Codependence doesn't sound good in theory, and it's worse in reality.
- There is freedom in knowing you're not in control. Especially once you accept that you are a freak.
- Don't do that.
- Life moves pretty fast -- If you don't stop and take care of yourself once in a while, you will miss it (in bitterness, escapism or a desperate need for validation).

Every good event starts with a big bowl of guac.

The Bon Jovi sing-a-long

Blowing out the big 3-0

I'd like to point out the man in the silver wig in back.

He's Just Not Enough For You

2006-08-22T22:07:00.000-07:00

I'll admit I'm a little irritated by the Greg Behrendt wave of thinking that has been infiltrating our relationship vocabulary: "He's Just Not That Into You." My irritation, though any man might accuse me is merely because I'm a woman, is because although I'm sure that may be a true cause of many relationships not working out, it is an oversimplification of probably many others. For some, it may be "He's Just Not That Mature," or "He Just Doesn't Know What He Wants," or "He's Just Obsessed With The Chase," or even in some cases "He's Just Too Into You."

As for me, my book might be called "He's Just Not Enough For You" or "Your Priorities Are a Little Out of Whack." The He's in my life have generally been well-intentioned, personable dudes with a great sense of humor, who have been somewhat into me, with about 50% character. First three items check, the following -- which are probably most important -- only check halfway. When it comes to character and values, the glass is never half-full.

Maintaining the Perfect You

2006-08-20T21:52:00.000-07:00

"In 50 years you're gonna start doing some thinking on your own and you're gonna come up with the fact that there are two certainties in life: One, don't do that. And Two, you dropped 150 grand on a f**king education you coulda got for a dollar fifty in late charges at the public library." -- Will Hunting

I finally made it to Club 3-0 as of last Friday. All of my 30s friends have given me a warm welcome into the decade, and unanimously have told me, "it's so much better than your 20s." I have no doubt. Instead of the dread and quarter-life crisis I thought might ensue from turning the corner, I feel a sense of relief that a decade of wrestling with who I am and what I'm worth, and getting my heart shat on a few times (though I'm the wiser for it all) is gone - over - never to rear its 2-prefix again.

As I look back on both those topics -- identity and relationships -- my first 30-year-old reflection takes shape. I've seen a lot of different couples over the last decade, and spouses and significant others fall into one of two categories: the real and the ideal.

The real significant other is the one that helps you know and continue to know your real self. They are compatible with you in ways you need, and will challenge you in ways you don't always know you need to be challenged -- and you may or may not like what you see. They hold a mirror up to your face everytime you see them, which on a good day will show you that attractive face with a kind smile, and on a not so good day will show that decaying Dorian Gray side.

The ideal sig other is the one that helps you maintain the perfect image you have of yourself in your very own mind. They feed that ego either in word or deed (or if your ego prefers, both) in either subtle or unsubtle ways -- whichever your issues prefer -- and have effectively catered life to revolve around the most important person in the world: you. The mirror they put in front of your face always displays the same thing: Funny, witty, smart, charming, talented, strong Superyou.

The problem with the ideal is that it is ideal and not real. Underneath that thin layer of false security lies anxiety and a tireless effort to protect everyone else -- and yourself -- from finding out the truth: you are not so ideal after all. The ideal is based on a fantasy and on what you want the world to know about you: Funny, witty, smart, charming, talented, strong.

So thankfully, it hasn't taken me 50 years but 10 to realize that certainty in life: don't do that. And rather than spending the next 10 finding new ways to try to impress people and impress myself, I think I'll get that membership at the real, non-flashy, do-your-research public library.

Image disclaimer: This photo was taken on the set of a movie where the participating actors dated off-screen and resulted in a messy breakup.

The Anti-Crush of the Month

2006-07-20T00:44:00.000-07:00

I'm going through a phase where I'm repulsed by men. So what better time to bring up Colin Farrell?

After a vaguely attractive stint as a clean-cut copper on Tom Cruise's tail in Minority Report, which coincidentally was about the last time he was clean period, Colin quickly spiraled into that drunken Irish bad boy image that has won him into the hearts of thousands of trashy women. The paparazzi have caught him in moments of drunken stupor, really bad hair, and right before it's really, really time for that shower (we hope).

I was going to look up his dating history to find some common thread among the women in his life, and then I realized I just don't care. Those would be moments that could be better spent stalking Johnny Depp.

Really, need I say more?

Just One of the Guys

2006-06-27T22:32:00.000-07:00

Here's one way to get crossed off of my list...

It's one thing to find out someone you are interested in is just not interested in you. It's another thing to have them divulge details of their love life with his latest girl du jour. Pardon me for not being excited that you cuddled for the first time -- and by the way, do I look like one of your male friends?

The horror is somewhat relieved when he confesses to you his tendency to freak out when it appears a girl is actually interested. Houston, we have a red flag.

"You know what I could really use right now? A Beer."

The Party of Your Past

2006-06-24T22:11:00.000-07:00

As time goes on and you're pushing 30, and people -- including yourself -- have gone in and out of relationships as does happen with people, a party of your old friends can start to feel like a history of your messy relationships. Ex-boyfriend with his current woman or wife, his ex with her new man, former awkward friendship man by the punch bowl, guy who sent mixed messages years ago now playing with child, sharing about a common friend, who jilted your one other girl friend. It's all in the family.

Part of what this is is just life. We get into relationships, they work or don't work and you move on. But on a bad day, your single status can push you just over your normal ability to rise above the pool of issues. On a bad day, when you're tired and things have had a chance to build up as they sometimes do, you feel the print left on your insides that says you just weren't worth it. Which in reality is a print left from long before relationship X,Y or Z. And although you would never be that girl who uses a boyfriend to improve her self-esteem, being one of the only singletons there makes you wish you could cheat on that principle just once. And that it could be now. And you wish you could just start all over -- wipe that slate of your past clean, before there was X,Y or Z -- and be totally hopeful again.

But you can't. You can only be totally honest with your friends and with God about your frustration, leave the day's baggage behind, and let the healing continue...in baby steps.

The Mutant in Me

2006-05-31T22:36:00.000-07:00

I am a mutant. I may not be Jean Grey or Storm, and I may never get Hugh Jackman to fall in love with me. But my pinkie fingers on both hands are about half the size they should be.

In a larger sense though, I am a mutant because I am a Christian. Like the X-men, there are ways the world sees us as abnormal and wishes, ultimately, that we would just go away. Like the X-men, there are powers available to us -- of healing and transformation, of strength and even sometimes mind-reading -- that we must learn to access and use. And like the X-men, it can feel like a damn lonely existence. People look at you like you're a freak when you tell them, and assume you are a mutant of the worst form: a conservative fundamentalist (isn't that Magneto?).

But a mutant can hold out hope that there's a Wolverine still out there, searching just like she is.

My Pre-Sexual Revolution Needs

2006-05-31T19:39:00.000-07:00

I present 3 case-in-point scenarios:
- Taking a day off work a couple of weeks ago with S-dawg, in my tiredness and dread for the next day I found myself confessing: I would so be a stay-at-home housewife. No problem, whatsoever.
- In trying to replace the fluorescent light in my kitchen (which of course requires me at the very top of a step ladder), new bulb in hand, the damn thing just won't work. Must be an electrical wiring issue.
- Upon opening the package of the new doorknob we needed to replace on the front door, I took one look at the 50 pieces and micro-font directions and called my fixes-it-and-loves-it guy friend (not to be confused with boyfriend) to come do it for me. Which he completed in about 30 minutes.
- After carting this and that 40-lb turntable to and fro, and dropping an embarrassing amount of money on a new mixer, my DJ sound issue remains unresolved. Again with the electrical wiring. Thought to self: "Gee, it would be nice if I had a boyfriend (not to be confused with guy friend) who just loved figuring this type of stuff out."

Conclusion: I need a man to change my lightbulbs, be handy around the house, carry my damn heavy equipment, figure out how stuff works, and leave the cooking and caring to me.

What?

In Love with Harold & Kumar

2006-05-25T14:24:00.000-07:00

What's hotter than hot?

A. John Cho and Kal Penn

B. The yellow and the brown

C. 2 neurotic-slash-funny second generation Asians

D. Obsessive fast food pilgrimages

ANSWER: ALL OF THE ABOVE

Finish What You've Started...Unless it's a Blog

2006-05-24T11:26:00.000-07:00

I have been blog-dead for almost two months, and all I can point to is my doggone tendency to leave things hanging. If my blog was my boyfriend, we'd be over. Luckily, a blog is not a person -- in the same way the other people's blogs are not real people. They are just blogs. They will take you back whenever you are ready, they will never say "no, you can't write that," and they will never call you on whatever bullsh** you're posting.

So after two months of really focusing on skratch, picking up a Rane 56 mixer and a few small things on eBay, I'm ready to come back to you, Bloggie. And like Billy Joel's baby grand, I know you'll be good to me.

The Single Marathon

2006-04-10T13:58:00.000-07:00

Mile 1...invigorating. Mile 5...even pace. Mile 10...feeling a little long. Mile 15...must.keep.running. Mile 20...don't think I'm gonna make it. Mile 25...really? only a mile left?

Temp-to-Hire for Full-Time Lovin'

2006-03-26T23:52:00.000-08:00

Relationships are a lot like jobs. You search -- sometimes online -- for a listing that interests you. You narrow down the ones that look good at first glance, you apply, and you get hired by one. You have made a commitment to do the job required for that company.

But after a period of time, whether a month or a few years, your relationship starts to form. You are no longer getting acquainted, you are involved and learning the idiosyncrasies -- yay, issues -- you have signed yourself up for. You start asking yourself if you're valued and paid enough, if your hard work and talents are being acknowledged and appreciated, if you just plain don't fit the job. And pretty soon, you become the girlfriend in a status quo relationship with a boyfriend who doesn't abuse her, but he just won't ever give her that ring. The flowers are nice, the dinner out is great. But at a certain point, you realize he can't give you anymore.

Kids, don't let six years pass you by overworked and underpaid. Get a new freakin' job.

Damn, it feels good to be a gangsta.

The DJ is Taking Requests

2006-03-26T23:42:00.000-08:00

One holiday, two weddings, one busted tone arm and several technical difficulties after my last post, I feel I can finally say it: I'm a DJ.

With the mixing of songs and matching of beats almost constantly on my mind over the last few weeks, it has become the perfect analogy to my new approach to dating: Not every song may go well together, but they can at least be beat-matched. I've got an open mind (and dance card) for eligible men in their mid-20s to 30s.