H. Hsu Word Salad

I went searching online for Band Aid, "Do they Know it’s Christmas"

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8jEnTSQStGE

and was agog to see how young Boy George, Sting, and Bono looked! I was like, holy cow, it wasn’t THAT long ago was it?
Yes. It was 1984.
Face it, H. It was a long, long time ago that you were 10 and wore lacy ribbons in your hair and Guess/Generra T-shirts.
When boys wore hair spray and eyeliner and tighter pants that I do, and cheesy was so buoyant that it was oddly cute.  Never again will someone match George Michael’s highlighted feathery hair and pastel shorts, Jody Watley strutting her thang. But it’s all so gosh darned EARNEST that i love it despite myself.

I oft complain loudly about the artistic differences in our household. P’s weary soul can only tolerate a limited number of painfully depressing foreign films, and I can tolerate far fewer mainstream blockbuster movies. 
Surely he can’t quite enjoy them as I scowl and scoff my way through the blow ‘em ups and misogyny that passes for standard cinema fare.  When my bro and I were kids we had a similar cultural clash with my mom who drove us all over creation.  She didn’t want to hear our pop music or rock.  We didn’t want to hear Anne Murray crooning slowly (beautiful though her voice truly is) and we didn’t want to endure a car trip of classical.
Thus, the three of us drove around listening to the country station.
Yes, Dolly Parton, Mandrell sisters, Kenny Rogers served as the neutral zone for our immmigrant Chinese family. Talk about cultural fusion. Then mom and I both fell in love with that ultimate silky voice: Julio Iglesies.

Anyways, the current bizarre compromise at the homefront is: romantic comedies/dramas.  We’re both kind of people that hoot with laughter during supposedly endearing love scenes. ‘I’ve been dying every day since you’ve been back Anakin" spoken in monotone by Queen/Senator Amidala to the young Darth had us tittering in the aisles.
But, at home. It seems to work. No blowing up body parts and pimpish language, no European TMI nudity and Asian miserable tragic sacrifices. 

So, here we are, avowed "chick flick" haters, netflixing through romantica.  Music and Lyrics was a fantastic spoof/tribute of 80’s music, and started to branch into the lampooning of 90’s as well.
But I loved Hugh Grant AKA Andrew Ridgely in this Wham! -ish spoof, and will leave U with this silly video:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=S0A7dtdc-nU

(the blog I started to write before I got all fired up about Bhutto’s assasination among other things)

2007 has been a rather overly eventful year.  So often I hear that melancholy lyric from the Beatles run through my head: "I heard the news today, oh boy…."
This year has seen marital strife, crying fights, Mr. C losing his coherence, Sensei’s died, chocolate opiates for eulogy composition, running triathlon escapes from life, leaving ‘home’ away from my ACMHS family, resign, start my new role, 6 new interns, my client getting shot at, mom works for a fascist company, I can’t pay her insurance fees, crying friends who can’t conceive, oil spill in Monterey, oil spill in SF Bay, friends’ divorces, Grandma’s died, Daddy’s tired voice, Uncle died, rush mom to Taipei, cousin crying, cousin acting out,teenage murder in my city last friday night…

As I wrote in some of our holiday cards: May 2008 be saner and more peaceful for us all.  As of last month I think I was ready, practically pleading with the universe to start new. Magical thinking, I know.  I hope this isn’t a harbinger of a slow and steady decline until 2012 when the Mayans said we’re all toast anyways. If we must go so soon, I’d rather enjoy myself and be as productive and loving as possible until that point.

Granted this year brought many wonderful things as well, such as our new baby niece, my office spouses’ pregnancy, new and wonderful private practice clients, a fantastically beautiful sojourn to Nicaragua, sunny swims in Quarry lake and L.A. visits with friends, love finding my Sweetheart, an east coast girls’ trip,a lot of hard earned growth in the marital arena, my best amiga and her beautiful child moving closer to our house…

But the world seems to spin ever nuttier.  When we were little in Daly City, my very favorite outing was the SF zoo. They’d feed the lions and tigers and you could watch as they scarfed down big meat steaks sprinkled with vitamin or bone powder.  The roars echoed through the big cat house in a way that rumbled and penetrated through your chest like the booming drums at the Chinese New Year parades.  It was thrilling, they were so beautiful and powerful, and I (probably overly) identified with the tigers who are my zodiac sign.
Yesterday we woke up to the news that Tatiana the tigress had mysteriously gotten out and killed a man, and damn near took out 2 others. WTF?!  I’ve dragged P to jungles and zoos from Belize to Argentina to San Diego and of course Oakland.  "That’s it, no more zoos!" he declared.  What a freak Christmas tragedy, for the young men, for Tatiana, for the zoo, for the victim’s families.

Last night I started packing my bags for Asia.  1st order of business once we arrive is to pay our respects to my recently departed relatives.  It will be a strange trip to have us in Taiwan without Uncle Pei there to insist we take some spending money, to tease us about bringing home a baby soon, to ask about my brother.

This morning the alarm radio went off yet again.  "Benazir Bhutto has been assasinated." P and I both suddenly lucid, ‘WHAT!!?"!?  The former prime minister, and at least 20 of her supporters, were taken out in the most cowardly of fashions at a political rally. So much for the democratic process.

From MSN .com:

In
an interview on Oct. 22 with NBC’s TODAY show, Bhutto said returning to
Pakistan and politics was worth the risk to her life. “It was no secret
to me that I could be attacked,” she said. “I chose to return and put
my life on the line to defend a principle I believe in.”

Sarah’s version of the John Lennon tune: War is Over, Happy Christmas (withthe Chldren’s choir)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aDZSClcEnwA

So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
Ans so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let’s hope it’s a good one
Without any fear
And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The world is so wrong
And so happy Christmas
For black and for white
For yellow and red ones
Let’s stop all the fight
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let’s hope it’s a good one
Without any fear
And so this is Christmas
And what have we done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
Ans so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young
A very merry Christmas
And a happy New Year
Let’s hope it’s a good one
Without any fear
War is over over
If you want it
War is over
Now…

The funny thing is sometimes you can help someone more by being tough
and strong with them, than you can by being "supportive."
Being too caring, too
forgiving, too accomodating, allowing too many excuses…that’s what we in therapist-land and AA  refer to as "enabling."
Enabling is when a person’s significant other or family tries to help them and instead, ironically, enables them to remain helpless. When people are ‘protected’ from facing the bad, negative consequences of their bad, negative behavior, they fail to learn from the experience.
Some people need a push or a threat before they can find themselves.
Women in particular often suffer the delusion that to love someone, they should always help their
man/partner and be understanding of his follies/mood disorder/substance abuse no matter how frequent.
But he is not a vulnerable little child.
Yes, yes, I know, in our hearts we are all still a 5 year old. And that is Ok.  The fact that somewhere inside of us lives a cutie who still loves to blow soap bubbles, gaze at Christmas lights, and slop around in the mud makes life worth living in many respects.
But if in our actual bodily form we are pushing 30+, then that 5 year old should not be the one running our personal Daily Show.
A man will do better in life if he is pushed to act like a responsible
adult who can be proud of his life, instead of a child who hides from
pressures.
To spoil a partner,may make him feel loved,
but he has no pride in his life and uses things like romantic
affair/meth pipe/no job direction/clinging to his mama/clinging to childhood to avoid facing his career and family and health troubles.

I am an outspoken advocate of the "Kick ‘em to the Curb" school of relationships. People always deserve a second chance (Ok, barring things like say, homicidal behavior. And said forgiveness only should be granted after LOTS of remorse on their part).  But past that? Gets dicey.
And how long should one wait for someone to "see the light?" This tends to be code for: get a real job/propose already/get sober/committ. No hard rules. My personal very biased opinion, I don’t recommend too much committment with anything or anyone if you’ve spent less than 2 years scoping out the premises. I figure anyone can act on their best behavior for a year or so without slipping into their cranky real selves.  But I also don’t recommend waiting on anyone more than say, 2.5 years or so.
Exceptions may be granted. But rarely are they warranted.
Esp. if you are a hetero female, ladies please. Get a clue. "He’s just not that into you" had a point. And I think most homo sapiens, esp. hetero males, are self centered creatures. If they want something, if they want YOU, they will pursue it to the very gates of hell in all sorts of creative and borderline-stalking sorts of ways.  If the appreciation is tepid…turn up the heat or kick ‘em out of the house so you can fire up something better.

Guys loathe it when we set out to change them - as if he was a household crafts project. So stop trying.  He isn’t a pet and he isn’t a Martha Stewart remodel.
Buck up and state your demands. If they can’t be met, which often times is no one’s fault, just lack of compatibility - accept it.
Stop enabling. Don’t pay that goddamn bail money. Don’t give him undeserved forgiveness. Don’t help him call in sick to his boss or parents. Don’t allow him excuses for failing his actual potential. Never lend money.
"But I love him" is  (pardon my French) horseshit.  If you love someone, not just romanticize him/her, then you will do the hard work, take the tough stance that it takes, to promote their maximum potential.  Keeping someone dysfunctional, addicted, or regressed ain’t love, its insecurity.
Now, if you do kick ‘em to the curb (perhaps you may prefer the gentler term ‘let go" or ‘tough love’) You may wind up alone. Which is not a bad thing so long as you’re an educated person. (if you’re not, hurry up for god’s sake and GET educated).  And alone doesn’t usually last for long when you’re someone with a spine.  Doormats are so… unattractive.
Or you might wind up with what’s oft referred to as a "real" man.  Which I have found, is most definitely worth fighting for.   

When odd bits of ego meet masochism we bipeds find ourselves
doing all sorts of feats "because we can."  Surely this sort of
egoism is responsible for all sorts of entries in the Darwin Awards book as
people meet their demise in incredibly stupid yet charmingly creative ways.  If you need a morbid laugh or to feel like a relative genius, please see:

http://www.darwinawards.com/

One of my Triathlon partners e-mailed me today to say that
he is on his 6th day of making 100 runs in 100 days.  Hmmm. Suggested that I try it as a prep for the
looming ½ marathon in Feb ’08.

Ultramarathon man
Dean Karnazes amazed me by remaining in this world after running something like
50 marathons in 50 days in 50 states as a promotion with North Face.

http://www.thenorthface.com/na/athletes/athletes-DK.html

No joke. Strangely
this man continues to live, breathe, and of course, run. Even Forrest Gump could not compare to
Karnazes. He’s been at the head of this new breed of ultramarathoner that feels
26.2 is too…common. They do 50 and 100
mile races, and even have the gumption/lunacy to do runs in

Death
Valley

where Karnazes wrote about having to run on the white
median paint strip so his shoes would stop melting on the road.

The problem, is that I happen to really like “rest days.” A
lot. I love my runs/hikes, but I sure do
savor the days I lay about and read books. Kind of like how I love my organic golden
turnips and kale/chard…but some days I gotta bust out the Haagen daz &
triple cream French brie. Renders
balance unto life, ya know?

But why else do we do things? Most of us North Americans are
fortunate enough that we aren’t on survival mode. I am overeducated and credit carded enough
that I have time to ponder existential issues. I am sufficiently nourished to seek artistic sustenance and personal challenges. Why climb Half Dome? Why journey alone to

Costa Rica

? Run
races regularly? Do Triathlons? I go on, to show myself what I can do. Because
I can, and because I know there’s no guarantees in life how long I will be able
to.

Then I thought about the challenge/experiment I heard being
discussed on the radio:

A woman and her husband were planning to have 100 straight days
of sex.

One commenter said, “after a week or I’d be like ‘YOU
again?!’”

I floated this notion to P and asked what he thought. Not
that I was recommending it. Just wondered what that would be like. “And for
what reason exactly?” he asked.

“Because we can.”

Then there is the literary equivalent of an ultramarathon :
NaNoWriMo

http://www.nanowrimo.org/

National Novel Writing Month. The operative goal here to write a passable (loosely
defined) novel of about 50, 000 words in one month’s time. Why? To see if you
can of course. And it’s one way to make
short shrift of the “inner editor” which renders my normal attempts at writing more like a mental
wrestling bout. I did wrestle some in
high school P.E. Suffice to say it is not my strong suit. Alas, I have missed this year’s special
NaNoWriMo month, but I think I will be adding this to my to do list as
well. After all, I’ve always wanted to
write some books. (actually publishing
one is another feat, but hey, let’s start with the writing.)

Thus, as we enter that season of new beginnings, the
holidays are nigh, new clients are calling me in droves, and the resolutions
frame of mind is setting in.

What’ll it be this year? 100 days of sex? 100 days of
running? Better yet, how about both at once? Your body will either collapse in
mutiny or else you’ll sport the mother of all healthy “glows.” (and maybe a limp.)

And while you’re at
it, let’s throw in novel completion.  Because
we can.