Parents are People, Too

I am not sure when in time I had this epiphany, but the moment itself is clear. One day I realized that my parents were more than just my parents, they were individuals apart from me. I am embarrassed that this realization came rather late in life (I believe I was in my mid-twenties and out of college). It was one of those defining moments for me where my world paradigm shifted, never again to revert.

In some ways my Dad is your typical Asian patriarch. King of his castle, he communicates in grunts and facial expressions. “Taisho,” as my Mom calls him. But there is another side to my Dad. He can be a talker, a teller of stories. It is a source of amusement in our family. At a family gathering, we’ll see him talking to one of my uncles or a cousin and say to each other, “Okay, I guess we’re not leaving for another half an hour!” Or we’ll commiserate, “Oh, poor uncle/cousin, cornered by Dad!”

So I grew up hearing his stories, and as a typical child, was bored when he started (in my mind), droning on and on about the old days. Since he grew up in Hawai’i, he did not have the “I walked 5 miles in the snow to get to school” story, but every other “typical” old-time story was told. I heard about working in the plantation on the Big Island. Learning to swim by getting thrown into the stream by the older boys. How his friend “Udon” got that nickname (which is a hilarious story).

My Mom is more reticent. She is more of a listener than a talker (a lesson I have been trying to adopt from her all my life), but even she will get nostalgic and talk about her past. About how she and her six siblings walked barefoot everywhere (no shoes). How she pretended to be asleep so she would not have to go work in the family farm early in the morning. That her friends got her English name put on her birth certificate one day when she was absent from school.

Now that I am older (and thankfully a bit wiser), I have grown to cherish these stories of my parents’ lives. Not just their stories as children growing up in the Territory of Hawai’i (pre-statehood), but when they first met and how they struggled to purchase their first house. How difficult it was to find a white-collar job as an Asian man and what life was like before Unionization.

But there is one story in particular that really turned a light on for me and made me fully realize that my parents are individuals. Individuals with dreams, hopes, disappointments and struggles all their own, apart from me, apart from our family, and even apart from each other. I do not know why this story among all the others particularly resonated with me, but it did…it still does.

One day my Mom and I were talking and she mentioned (almost off-handedly) that when my Dad was younger, he had wanted to become a teacher. What?!? It amazed me that my Dad had wanted to be something other than what he was. Didn’t he always want to be in insurance? Didn’t he want to be in sales? I mean, it seemed to fit with the gabby, bon vivant side of him.

My Mom went on to tell me that he did not become a teacher because he had to quit school (which I knew, because his father died before my Dad was in high school, so as the oldest boy, he had to quit school and earn money to support the family). What I learned that day was that my Dad came to O’ahu to find better opportunities to earn a living and to support his siblings. Even after his siblings were off on their own, he and my Mom had already married and he had a family to support.

My parents raised me to believe that I could be anything I wanted to be; do anything I wanted to do if I worked hard enough and put in enough effort. Yet my Dad, because of how seriously he took his responsibility to his family, was not able to be what he wanted to be. He had to give up his dream of being a teacher. Part of the reason he worked so hard was to ensure that I (and the rest of his kids) would have that choice that he did not have. It is something I have always known (I mean, everyone knows most parents work and sacrifice to give their children a better life), but now it was personal and real to me.

It humbled me to learn this. I have always loved and respected my parents, and except for a few rocky years in my teens, I knew I was lucky to belong to my family. And I know that my parents deserve a lot of credit for whatever is good in me. But for some reason, still beyond my comprehension, learning about the dream my Dad decided to forego just made everything sharper, more intense, more real. Maybe it is because it seems so seminal…what one does for a living. Maybe it is the Gen X belief in the importance to find meaning in your work and that the ultimate is to do what you love. Whatever it is, it made me look at my parents in a completely different light.

It made me understand that parents are people, too. And once that becomes real to you, you can never look at your parents in the same way again.

Grumblings & Mumblings

Just call me Oscar, because I am a grouch.

I know, I know, it is so difficult to imagine one as sweet and demure as myself grouchy. One might even suggest it would stretch the limits of one's imagination. And yet, alas, it is true. During the past two weeks, I think I have been less patient, less understanding, less loving than my normal impatient, semi-understanding and somewhat loving self. Huh.

Things that have been getting on my nerves:

People that insist and/or whine about how busy they are at work, yet they always seem to be goofing off. I say, if you goof off, goof off. Everyone has times when it's difficult to concentrate and taking some time to play solitare, chat, read the newspaper, update your blog (heh), etc. can "cleanse the palate" so to speak and help you concentrate better...eventually. But please do not repeatedly tell me (or others) how incredibly busy you are when obviously you are not so busy that you can't spend half of every day not working! How is that possible? Bleh.

Spam. Not the bad-for-you mystery meat in a can, but the kind you get in your e-mail. I do not need to find a hottie, have money to invest in anything, want a bigger penis (I don't even have one, why would I want my non-existant penis to be bigger?), want to participate in a get-rich-quick scheme, etc. Why do I get Christian dating sites, Jewish dating sites, affair/fling sites, dating over 40 sites, finding young hottie/bootie call sites? They all contradict one another. Whatever happened to target marketing? Do these people actually think I will cull through their ads and check out the ones applicable to me rather than press "Delete All?"

People who worry about inconsequential things. At lunch the other week, someone kept mentioning how she was going out for dinner that night and was worried about not having an appetitie for dinner if she ate too much at this lunch. Does this even make sense? Please, woman! If that is your biggest worry, stop talking about it and enjoy your life! Even after lunch she was speculating if she ate enough or too much, because she was having dinner in 5 hours! Bleh.

Passive-aggressive people. I'm Asian. I can be passive-aggressive with the best of them. That doesn't mean I like it. I don't like it in me and I don't like it in others. Be passive or aggressive. Not both at the same time. Not attractive. Not cool. You know who you are! (Tee hee!)

People who cut you off on the road, then drive slow. This one may harken back to my natural impatience, but I dislike when someone speeds up to cut in front of you, then drives slow. If you are going to be impatient enough to cut in front of me, then be impatient enough to keep up with traffic and move it! The other people that are annoying are the ones that are driving leisurely, then when you want to cut in front of them, will speed up so you are unable to cut in.

Grouchy, irritable whiners. Yes, at this point I am beginning to irritate myself with all this negativity. None of these things are worth getting upset about, but here I am ranting and grousing away. How's that for attractive? I would never allow a guy to say this, but perhaps it has a bit to do with hormones. It's the time of the month that I'm craving red meat. Uh, too much information? Good thing nobody reads this anyway.

No more grumbling, no matter how cathartic it may be. The next post will be all sunshine and light, baby! Sunshine and light.

An Open Letter to Michael Chang

Michael Chang.

***sigh*** (insert dreamy smile here) ***sigh***

Huan Hsu recently wrote an article for Slate entitled: “Dear Michael Chang: You ruined my tennis career. Thanks for nothing.” Here is the link to the article: http://www.slate.com/id/2194929.

My response: “Dear Michael Chang: You ruined me for other men. Thanks for everything.”

In my formative years, I rarely crushed on Asian guys. My best friend would go ga-ga over Asian dudes, but me, my attention was focused on the haole dudes. The one exception: Michael Chang. He caused my heart to go a-flutter and my eyes to go all dreamy.

Why? Because he is the whole package, baby!

Physical: He is about 5’9”, which is a perfect height for someone who is . . . er . . . 5’ almost 3”. I could wear heels and he would still be taller than me, but if I wore flats (as I always do), he would not tower over me in that weird, uncomfortable way. I tend to feel like a little kid when I am around tall people, which mentally takes me to that kid place. Which, if you are around a romantic interest, can be somewhat creepy, if you know what I mean.

His legs are incredible. Now, I am not one to usually gawk at men’s legs. I’m usually looking a little farther up . . . and I don’t mean their butts . . . I meant their faces. But Michael Chang has exceptional legs. I guess because he relied on his quickness and his ability to chase down every ball, he really built up his lower body strength. A law school classmate was at a tennis tournament and saw Michael’s father and informed me his father had thick, muscular legs, too. She said it boded well that it was a genetic thing and not likely to change once he (Michael) no longer played professionally.

Which leads me to my final physical point…the guy has stamina. He built his fierce reputation around running every single shot down. His opponent could never relax, because no matter how good the shot, Michael Chang would run that ball down, whether it was the beginning of the first set or the end of the fifth. He worked hard to be physically fit. That also gave him a mental edge, knowing that he could stay on that court and run around in the fifth set without being super tired and shaky. Which segues nicely into the second category,

Mental/Intellectual: Michael Chang was a thoughtful player and mentally tough. I believe in an interview, he compared playing tennis to playing chess. You could tell he was constantly thinking on the court. Strategizing. He would set up points, because physically he did not have the height or muscle mass to do what came naturally for other players, Michael had to play smart. He would figure out his opponents’ weaknesses and work it against his strengths. He had a game plan, but adjusted his plan to the capriciousness of the game.

Michael was always very articulate when interviewed. He came across confident, but not cocky, and was always contemplative in his comments. You could also tell he set very high standards for himself; and when he did not meet those standards, he was pretty hard on himself.

Family / Christian Values: Michael Chang has always been clear that he is a Christian. And from the way he conducts his public life, his faith seems like a very important part of who he is. That is very attractive! Much of his time after retiring from tennis seems to be spent on his charities and helping others. He also seems very calm and caring.

And he does this work with his family. Now some may be apprehensive about joining a close-knit family. But once they know you and love you, you become part of their fabric, so to speak. The importance of familial relationships and respecting your parents has been ingrained in me since I was a child. To be honest, I’m guessing his mom will be the most difficult one to win over. But, I’ve always done really well with parents. Heh.

X-Factor: Finally, Michael Chang has that X-Factor. Something that draws my eyes toward him. Something about his intensity and focus. Very intriguing. Maybe it has something to do with traveling around the world and learning about different cultures. Perhaps it was learning how to handle the pressure and attention of being a top athlete at such a young age. Perhaps it is simply innate in him. Whatever it is, he’s got it.

So, Huan Hsu of Slate, do not be jealous of Michael Chang and all he has accomplished. Rather, embrace it…embrace your Asian-American culture of expectation and values and what it means to be an Asian male in America. Let go of your one-handed backhand, net-charging, serve-and-volley ways and accept who you truly are. And take another look at Michael Chang. See that cute dimple in his cheek when he smiles? Perhaps he’s smiling for you, Huan; though I prefer to think he’s smiling for me.

Reality TV Love, Another Look

I watch a lot of television. In fact, I probably watch too much television. I think it has something to do with my propensity toward addictive behavior, but that’s fodder for another post. The reason I bring up television is because there are two shows that I really am kind of falling in love with . . . and they’re both “reality” or unscripted shows.

Part of the reason I am writing about this is because I hope to garner some understanding about why I have latched so strongly on to these two shows in particular. What is it about them has me repeatedly watching repeat episodes?

The first show is on TLC and is called “Jon and Kate Plus 8.” It is about a couple who has two sets of multiple-birthed children (is that what it’s called?) Anyway, they have twin girls and sextuplets (3 boys and 3 girls). I believe the twins are 7 years old and the sextuplets are almost 4 years old. The couple (Jon and Kate) are in their mid-30s, I am guessing. Kate is a nurse and now a stay-at-home mom. Jon is an IT person.

My first thought on why I like this show is because their kids are adorable. But there are adorable kids all over television. Then I thought, maybe it is because I get to “peek” into their family life. Some kind of family voyeur (but not in a creepy way). I am somewhat privy to the couple’s relationship with each other as well as the relationship they have with their children, and the children’s relationship to one another. But that kind of dynamic is rife in television, with the plethora of Nanny type shows and American Chopper and Little People, Big World, Hogan Knows Best, Kardashians, etc. I am not addicted to those shows.

So perhaps it is because the kids are a quarter Korean? They really pull toward the Asian features. Jon is hapa, having a Korean mom and a Caucasian father. Kate is Caucasian. Am I so thirsty to see Asians on television that it accounts for my fascination with this show? I do not know.

The second show I am addicted to is “Run’s House” on MTV. No Asians there! It is about Joseph Simmons (or Rev. Run or DJ Run) from the seminal rap group Run DMC, and his family. He has a wife, 3 daughters (one newly adopted) and 3 sons. The two older daughters are living in California, but come home to New York often. The oldest son is in a rap group trying to break into the business, the youngest son is interested in cooking and they seem like a really nice family.

The Simmons household is not crazy and chaotic. The kids listen (somewhat!) to their parents and speak to them respectfully. Likewise, the parents speak to their children with love and respect. Of course there are arguments and disagreements and people are irritable with each other, but on the whole, it is obvious that this couple (Rev and Justine) have managed to raise solid, caring children in the midst of wealth and notoriety.

At the end of each episode, they show Rev soaking in a bubble bath and providing a “Final Thought” a la Jerry Springer on his Blackberry. He has a nice way of summing up the events filmed for the show and has a positive message.

One commonality is that I believe they are both Christian families. Jon and Kate attend an Assembly of God church and talk a little about their faith on the show. The Simmons family does not really talk about church, but Joseph’s nickname is “The Reverend” and he ends each show by saying something like, “God bless.” It also seemed like he (Rev) avoided any shenanigans while on tour with Kid Rock. The Rev would go to his room alone while the rest partied. Of course, this does not necessarily mean they are a Christian family, but maybe they are.

So, perhaps what draws me to these shows is that they portray loving families. They may argue and speak harshly to each other, but they apologize and try to make things right. When television shows you war, death, struggle, hunger, fear, greed, sensationalism and pain in the world around you, there is comfort in knowing people like that exist. Families like that exist. They are not perfect, but they are trying their best. They face different kinds of challenges, but find strength in the love they share.

That may sound hokey, but it is also encouraging and uplifting . . . and maybe our world needs a little bit more hokey-ness. If I am going to be addicted and oddly fascinated with television shows, well, I guess I could be addicted to a lot worse than that!

C'mon Baby, Light My Fire

I am disturbed.

Not in the unstable, unbalanced, psycho kind of way (now wouldn’t that be a fascinating post?) More like there is a disturbance in my universe kind of way.

This past weekend I lost my fourth tennis match in a row, thus going 0-4 for this season. But that is not the reason I am disturbed. Rather, I am disturbed about not feeling disturbed about losing my fourth tennis match in a row. I think this is the first season in the many, many years I have been playing adult competitive tennis when I have not won at least one match. So why am I not bothered by this?

One reason may be that I am coming back from a wrist injury that kept me off the court for about a year. Perhaps I am cutting myself some slack because I realize I am returning from an injury and cannot expect to jump on the court and be at the level I was before the injury. Coupled with that, I have not really practiced a lot since my wrist healed. I cannot expect to play well after taking a long time off and with a limited amount of practice.

But it is more than that, which is why I find myself concerned. Have I lost my competitive edge? I notice I do not have the same focus and the “fire” that I usually have when I am competing. It’s almost like I do not care if I win or lose. Well, to a certain extent I never have cared too deeply . . . I mean, I am unwilling to cheat to win. I always did not (really) mind losing if I played well and prefer that to winning a match that my opponent is deliberately tanking to preserve her rating.

Generally, I am a good loser . . . on the outside. However on the inside, I keep thinking about what I could have done differently; I relive errors and am somewhat irritable at how poorly I played. Truthfully, I am a bit hard on myself. But this past season I have not scrutinized my play in the same way I have most of my life. I have not been as critical and have been more willing to just “let things go.”

Perhaps I am disturbed for nothing. I still find joy in being on the court and playing. Maybe I have even evolved, letting go of petty and unproductive thoughts. But I don’t think so. I don’t feel evolved and it’s not like I’m acting or feeling any better. I want to care about the quality of my play more. How does one get that back? Sports commentators call it a “fire in the belly.” It’s the thing that causes you focus more during the crucial points, helps you see openings and take them aggressively, pushes you when you are behind and basically makes you a better player.

I do not want to have lowered expectations of myself. I want to expect myself to give my all during the match and leave it all on the court (something that did not occur in my last four matches). That’s how I want to play tennis. That is not to say that I do not have fun on the court because I am so busy leaving my guts on it. Many people have said that while watching my matches they can’t tell if I’m winning or losing, because I am always smiling and laughing on the court. Well, I can smile and laugh and still feel ferocious (in the sweetest and most demure way, of course!) I am missing my ferociousness. I want it back. Where the heck did it go?

I will continue to practice during the “off” season and hopefully my game will improve. Hopefully if I play tennis more, I will rekindle the embers of my competitive spirit. I will focus and I will care and I will have the eye of the tiger! “Grrr!” rather than “meow . . . purr.”

The New Yorker Cover Controversy

The cover of The New Yorker is causing quite a controversy. The cover shows a characature of Barak Obama in muslim dress and Michelle Obama looking like a member of the Black Panthers holding a machine gun. They are giving each other a fist bump. In the fireplace, the American flag is burning and above the fireplace is a portrait of Osama bin Laden. The title of this piece: "The Politics of Fear."

Now, I believe I understand where The New Yorker editorial board was coming from. They saw it as biting political humor. Satire. Poking fun at our absurdities. And they are correct.

How absurd to think that the presumptive Democratic nominee for President of the United States is a terrorist and hates America. How ridiculous to believe this Baptist church-going man is Muslim. How silly to think he was raised in a terrorist camp and/or is a terrorist sympathizer when he went to Punahou School in Hawaii.

How have the American people become so fearful? I thank the government for instigating it and the media gets the assist for perpetuating it. Make the people so afraid that they will not ask questions, demand reasons or think critically about the unsubtle erosion of their civil liberties. In attempting to protect the very ideals we cherish, we have allowed ourselves to be stripped of those same rights. After all, if we think, question or demand accountability from our government, WE WILL DIE!

The policies approved by our Legislature in the mis-named Patriot Act, the Administrative dictates from the Executive Branch and the capitulation by the Courts have all been a disservice to us, the American people. The people who are supposed to love freedom and liberty. As Tony Benn says, it is much easier to control a frightened, uneducated populace than a healthy, vibrant, knowledgable one (or something like that).

The news media is supposed to ask the tough questions and ferret out truths, rather feed their own capitalist hunger and flash provocative (and misleading) headlines, play overly dramatic music and basically scare us into listening to them. If we don't, WE WILL DIE! The New Yourker was poking fun at them...and at us...through publishing this cover. How easily the American public allows itself to be manipulated by a frowning leader and a few minor chords accompanying a scary headline.

The fist bump in the picture is obviously a reference to the "terrorist fist bump" controversy a few months ago. Some political pundit mused aloud if the fist bump referred to a terrorist message. Probably the same person who thought t.v. chef and talk show host Rachael Ray was giving a message to her terrorist peeps by wearing a printed scarf. Don't these people know that if they have these thoughts they should keep it to themselves? I believe it was Mark Twain said something like: it's one thing for people to think you're a fool, it's another to open your mouth and remove all uncertainty. But these people get paid to start these idiotic rumors. Bleh. Worse yet they're on "news" stations. Double bleh.

For these legitimate and thoughtful reasons, I believe The New Yorker ran its cover. To point out our absurdities when there is any mention of the Middle East. To highlight our knee-jerk reactions to the words "muslim" or "terrorism." The New Yorker probably sees it as their job, maybe even their mission to point this out to us.

But even though I understand all this, I still find the cover in poor taste. Perhaps satire needs to be biting and shocking, but my initial reaction when I saw the cover: Too soon. Too close. In proximity, emotionally and in time. Obama is the presumptive Democratic nominee for President. A part of our populace truly believe he is muslim or is tied to terrorists. No one makes 9-11 jokes in New York City. Because it is too soon.

In order for it to be witty and funny there needs to be some distance. We don't have that distance yet. But perhaps this cover has helped create some of that space. If that is the case, then perhaps it was the right call after all.

Reality TV Love

I have a confession. (((Deep Breath))) Last night I . . . well, I . . . I watched the last episode and the subsequent season post-mortem of Tila Tequilla’s Shot at Love. And no, VH-1 wasn’t the only channel I could catch that evening. I was channel surfing and there was something morbidly compelling about it that caused me to waste, er, spend two hours of my life watching these episodes. I’m sure it does not speak well of me or my taste in TV.

For the uninitiated, Tila Tequilla is a bi-sexual internet star. For this show, she invites men and women to compete for her affection in full “reality” TV style. It came down to two finalists: one man and one woman. Tila rejects the man, who professed his love and was obviously devastated by her decision.

Then Tila meets with the woman and offers her a “shot at love.” The woman declines and Tila is crying, shaking and in full “why me, what’s wrong with me, why can’t I find love” mode. The woman (I forget her name) says she rejected Tila because she is confused about whether she wants a relationship with a man or a woman and is also unsure if she can meet Tila’s expectations for a partner. She also mentioned she sees Tila more as a friend than in a romantic way. Ouch!

So, as one may be able to guess, the post-mortem / reunion show was strange, awkward and painful. When the man (I forget his name, too) confronts Tila, he is quite civil, but wanted an explanation why she did not pick him. Tila gives some lame excuses, which basically tells me she just wasn’t into him, even though she professed her love to him on several occasions (they showed clips of that).

The big confrontation occurred between Tila and the woman. The woman was explaining why she rejected Tila, but Tila was having none of it. She was obviously still hurt and embarrassed and it quickly degenerated into a screaming, name-calling fiasco.

Anyway, after watching this, I did not feel well. I didn’t feel dirty or anything, but it kind of hurt my heart to see all this pain, anger and selfishness up for public consumption. I was also kind of irritated that Tila seemed to blithely dismiss the man and his feelings and made it all about her – that somehow Tila was wronged and hoodwinked, but refused to see how she had done the same thing to others.

It made me start to wonder about love. What does love mean? What makes anyone think love can be found in the artificial world of a TV show? Have we (society) perverted love? Or have we created something unobtainable in our expectations of romantic love?

So here are some relationship lessons I learned in those two hours (see, they weren't a complete waste of time):

Lesson #1: Loving another person means humbling yourself and truly wanting what is best for them.

I think most of my irritation stemmed from the seeming hypocrisy of Tila going on and on about how much she loved this woman, made herself vulnerable and now is broken hearted, when it seemed more like her pride was damaged than her heart. Tila was mean, vindictive and hurtful when she spoke to the woman on stage.

Compare that with the man whom Tila rejected. The moderator asked him if knowing Tila got rejected after she rejected him made him feel any better. His answer was no. In fact, he said that it made him hurt more, knowing Tila was hurting and did not find her true love. That sounds more like love to me. Even though Tila hurt him, he cared about her enough to truly wish the best for her. Tila was not empathetic or sympathetic towards the woman at all. In fact, she was was not empathetic or sympathetic towards the man, either.

During another part of the show, the moderator created this hypo: what if the man and woman had been together with Tila to hear her decision? And then, after choosing the woman and being rejected, what if at that point Tila turned back to the man? Would he have started a relationship with her knowing he was her second choice? His answer: he was not sure. He said maybe they could go on from that point and forget the past and build something better together.

Wow, that was cool. That's humble love. Love without pride and self-righteousness. Perhaps when I feel that way about someone, I will know I am truly in love.

All this also goes along with Lesson #2: You can learn a lot about a person by how that person behaves and handles a situation in which he or she does not get something he or she really wants.

Lesson #3: Beware of hearing only what you want to hear and forcing everything to fit into the paradigm of your own construction at the expense of reality.

During their last date, the woman expressed her doubts and insecurities to Tila. Tila interpreted that as the woman being afraid to let herself be vulnerable and fall in love. Tila imagined herself being the one person that would make the woman feel safe so she could love Tila and be loved in return. What the woman really meant was, "I do not know if I want this. I do not know if I want to be with you."

Lesson #4: Tattoos are forever, but relationships may not be; therefore, if you choose to tattoo, please tattoo wisely.

Both the man and the woman got tattoos. While the man said he did not regret it, he did wish it was smaller and less gaudy. The woman's tattoo was of a star similar to one Tila has. The woman's brother, mom and dad all got similar tattoos to make it a family thing. Remember Johnny Depp's "Winona/Whino Forever?" A cautionary tale for sure.

Lesson #5: If you find yourself contemplating finding love on a "reality" television show with a bi-sexual internet personality, run quickly in the opposite direction.