Now, compare it to Korean age reckoning. Your age starts at conception, not birth, and you gain a year each time you pass a new year. So, by Korean age reckoning, I am…23 years old, and just 2 months away from becoming 24 years old (!!).

But then, birthdays started becoming a drag. Why? It was nothing but a single day in a year. But the fact that it was supposed to be special, supposed to be celebratory, made it all the more depressing when the day did not measure up to expectations. On my 14th birthday, I spent the night crying in bed because I had just moved to America and had little friends, and my mom bought me the ugliest winter jacket from Costco for my birthday present (I’d wanted a cute peacoat).

On my 17th birthday, I cried all night again, but for a more serious reason—I was distraught in despair, as I felt myself sink lower and lower into my anorexia.

On my 18th birthday, I once again cried all day—It was only a few weeks since I had been sent home from Northwestern because of my eating disorder.

On my 19th birthday, I cried again because I was missing my parents. I had moved out a couple months earlier after a huge fight with them, and I had relapsed, hard.

On my 20th and 21st birthday, I did not cry. I was just far too emotionally detached to have any sort of real, painful feelings. I woke up, I went out for an obscenely long walk, I came back home, I obsessed over my food rituals, I went to bed with nothing to look forward to. No hope, no excitement, no nothing.

And here comes my 22nd birthday on Wednesday. Honestly, I’m still not sure how exactly I feel about my birthday. But I do know I am feeling something. It’s a mix of “Holy shit I am freaking old!” and “Wow, look at how much I changed in a year” and “Thank you Lord, for letting me still be alive”.

I can’t describe it. But overall, I can say I’m feeling positive. Hopeful. A bit annoyed at how fast life passes by, but ultimately, pleased and thankful to God who has sustained me through piles of crap and drama, and to all the lovely people out there who have patiently endured me.

By the way, one thing I will not be having on my 22nd birthday is that stinky seaweed soup Koreans traditionally eat during birthdays. Thank goodness I’m away from my mother on my birthday, or she might have tried to make me  have some. However, there is another birthday tradition, common among the Chinese, which is eating noodles. The long strands is supposed to symbolize longevity.

For the “cold” ingredients:

• 1/2 green apple, thinly sliced
• handful dried berries
• handful dry-roasted pistachios
• basil leaves, chopped finely
• 2 cups chopped romaine lettuce
• handful feta cheese

For the pasta:

• about 5-6 oz whole-grain linguine (did not measure)

Bring a pot of water to boil with salt, and cook the linguine according to packet directions.

Meanwhile, cook the onions with the oil on a skillet until slightly softened, then add in the sausages. Pour in the dressing, and cook until the onions are soft and caramelized, and the sausages are cooked through. Grate in the orange zest.

Once the pasta is done, drain it, then toss into the hot ingredients. Turn off heat.

In a large salad bowl, toss all the cold ingredients except the feta cheese with the skillet ingredients. Mix well, then dish out onto a plate, and top with feta cheese. Grate more black pepper and orange zest if you like.
Look at that! Why only eat this on your birthdays? I wouldn’t mind eating this everyday!
I loved all the different components of this dish. Sort of like a hot pasta, but tossed into a salad. There are the hot, caramelized onions, and the hot, charred sausages…
Balancing out the cold,  refreshing lettuce, the tart green apples, the crunchy pistachios, the chewy dried berries…
A toast to our longevity!
And another toast to a great friend who waited patiently for me to be done taking pictures!
Obviously, this dish was a bit pre-mature. It’s not my birthday yet, but I think I know what I’ve having on Wednesday!