With Age…

I’m not sure why human beings “celebrate” birthdays after the age of 21.  Honestly, 21 is the culmination of our youth, and the glorious climatic ending (for some of us, a little bit too much of a glorious climatic ending) to the days you are actually considered young, vibrant, energetic, fun.  You’ve successfully crossed over to the beginning of the end, and the gradual and slow deterioration of all that once made you awesome at a younger age is inevitable. Suddenly, you are not as quick as you used to be. Suddenly, everyone who used to be little kids are now taller than you.  Suddenly…Eharmony…okay, we’ll stop there.  The twenty first birthday is usually the most amazing birthday of them all, too, and so it’s sort of a fitting end.  My twenty first birthday was sooo amazing that I don’t even remember it. Hahahaha.  Just kidding…why would I ever…not…remember…my twenty-first…birthday…

But seriously.  You know what’s really sad?  Little kids that I used to tutor when I was in high school…are now graduating from high school.  Little kids I used to Youth Pastor four years ago are now on the verge of graduating from college.  Wth? When did I transition from hyung to ah juh shee.  *on a side note, Korean illiteracy, which is rampant in the United States probably suggests you do not understand “Ah Juh Shee”.  Well to you I say, LEARN KOREAN BECAUSE WE ARE GOING TO TAKE OVER THE WORLD. Nevermind.  Who am I kidding.  We already own it.

I became that guy.  You know how when you were younger, during those thanksgiving dinners at your church, you would see all those college and college alums coming back from their respective schools, and inside you would secretly think to yourself that they are losers and so freaking old…yes. Now I am that guy.  When I go back home for thanksgiving, little kids look at me and wonder why I am so freaking old…then, they ask me difficult questions about life, trusting that I will have a mature and fitting response to give.  ”Aren’t you supposed to be twenty-four years old,” says Billy the thirteen year old.  ”Then why am I three inches taller than you?” I quickly look around to see if there are any parents around, and then upon the confirmation that there will be no one to witness what I am about to do, I poignantly stick up one of my “special fingers” to remind Billy just how much I love him. I love how with age, I am able to answer with so much more sagacity, says my middle finger.  

Seriously though, I motion for a new cultural phenomenon to sweep across the world.  I motion that from here on out, every birthday after the age of twenty-one should not be a celebration but a “mourning”.  We should mourn the one year of loss.  Loss of sight.  Loss of hearing.  Loss of rich and vibrant hair.  Loss of being able to run around endless hours and never grow tired. Loss of time (cause the older you are the busier you get).  Loss of mobility.  Loss of fast metabolism.  Loss of being able to eat anything you want and never gaining weight, says my stomach who has grown quite considerably since graduation.  Oh man, how the losses pile up.  Yes…let us mourn.

So it is, with this spirit, that I regretfully announce that there are now only two more days till the day that God so graciously provided the world with the likes of talented, amazing, sexy, awesome, and glorious men like Jamie Foxx, Dick Van Dyke, and…you know, Samuel Kim.  Because Samuel Kim speaks in the third person now.  And for those “skeptics” who wonder how could I compare myself with two famous and accomplished actors, LET ME REMIND YOU HOW AWESOME I AM.  I am going to be Twenty-five and ALREADY I HAVE ACCOMPLISHED THREE YEARS OF SINGLENESS! DAMN. Furthermore, I have SUCCESSFULLY moved back in with my mother.  Please.  Hold your applause.  And seriously, I don’t want to gloat, but IN THE PAST YEAR I HAVE GROWN .001 INCHES.  TAKE THAT.  BOO YA KA SHA.  I am awesome!

This is not some slick ploy to remind the world to send me a “facebook” wall-post which is a weak and minimalist attempt at assuring me that you actually DO care it is my birthday.  No, cause I am of the opinion that if you really DID care then you would remember that there is a thirty percent off sale at Bloomingdales, that I particularly like John Varvatos, Theory, and Hugo Boss, that blue is my favorite color and that I could really use some ties right now.  Nor is this some guileful way for me to coerce my blog readers to leave a comment stating “HAPPY BIRTHDAY” (WHICH MIGHT I ADD I AM SO SAD I ONLY GET 6 COMMENTS ON AVERAGE. Back in the days of Xanga I used to get 16 comments and 32 eprops!  Oh…those shiny, pretty eprops…maybe I should convert back to xanga).  No.  Don’t leave a “happy birthday” comment here.  Fill up my facebook so I look more POPULAR.  

I am not trying to trick my readers into anything.  There are no ulterior motives.  In fact, there are only three reasons why I write this blog post. First, I really, really, really want Rajan to remember it’s my birthday and send out one of those sweet love letters through the passionla list.  I am a big fan!

Second, I write this post to remind everyone that you need to grab a hold of someone in college (AND DEAR GOD DON’T EVER LET GO) while you are still young and have an abundant social network so that you don’t end up as an old bitter man like me.  (You know, really quick here, I want to add as a side note that when I talk about my bitterness, and my loneliness, and my anger, and all this junk about wanting a woman I am 99% doing it as a form of COMEDIC relief.  Sure, 1% of me feels the sting of depression and reality creeping up ever so slyly…but I GUARANTEE YOU THAT 99% of me is A OKAY.  Alright. Just making sure I established this.  That when I say these things, I’m only tapping into the literary device of HYPERBOLE. OH YEA.  Score one for UCLA English BA).  

And thirdly, I write this post to…yea.  Thank you all.

You know sometimes in real life when people tell me happy birthday, I have a really hard time showing them that I am really blessed and happy inside.  On the outside, I, for some reason, maintain this exterior shell of BADASSness.  But inside, I am really a sap, and it pleases me just to experience the blessing of having friends who actually care that it is my birthday.  Who actually care that I walk and live on this earth of 6 Billion people.

Thank you all for the surprise birthday parties, even though one of them wasn’t really even a surprise.  It’s amazing that you would even try.  Good effort, you get an A+ for it.  

Thank you…you guys are seriously the best.  And I really don’t require any big surprises…or any big birthday gifts. Hell, I don’t even need a birthday anything, I buy all the things that I want when I want them anyways. If anything, I want to win the lottery on my birthday so that I can bless all of YOU. Cause seriously…so many of you guys have been insanely amazing to me in my life.  I love you guys.  I really, really do.  So many of you have blessed me in numerous ways…

On this particular birthday, my twenty fifth, I want to just…say thanks. I am horrible with birthdays, btw. So I don’t ever expect anyone to remember mine, cause chances are I won’t remember yours. So if I’ve ever forgotten yours…MY BAD.  But take this as a sincere and genuine expression of my gratitude toward all of you.  You guys are amazing.  And I’m glad I know people like you.  Although knowing people like Jamie Foxx would probably be slightly cooler.  Just Kidding…99%.