Stop asking me “When are you having kids?”

May 29, 2012

Now that we’ve been married for a couple of years, people ask us “when are you having kids?” I wonder why people do this. Heck, even I do this. It’s as if we find affirmation in other people’s progression in life. It’s kind of morbid, because the faster you progress in life, the faster you reach the inevitable. Ideally, we are curious about other’s life plans because we’re of the same species and rely on each other for the survival of the human race. A less savory explanation is that we asking out of a subconscious desire to assess our competitors for survival reasons; e.g., the more kids other people have, the more resources they will consume, leaving fewer for our own family and thus reducing our genes’ chances to continue.

That’s why when people ask me when I plan to have kids, I just reply “Why do you want to know? Are you trying to ensure there will be adequate resources for your own genes’ survival? Get out of my face, you Darwinian hog!”

The reality, however, is that I do feel older, and the biological clock is kind of ticking. Today I was holding a two-month old baby. Newborns are generally very unattractive, usually resembling a hybrid of a potato and a larva. But this baby was very cute, and extremely easy-going, her stare fixated on me. Cradling something so soft and fragile does stuff to you, like make you think “this is not so bad.” This is how babies trick you. They are full of tricks. On occasion she smiled and made little baby noises like “guh” and “blrghh.” We are designed to find that adorable.

Jameelah has been trying to get me to think of parenthood by asking hypothetical situations—“If we had a boy, and he wants to wear a dress, how would you react?”—but in general that just annoys me. I hate hypotheticals, so I usually respond with, “I’un’no, we’ll see” which she hates, and that might start an argument, which is not helpful for the process required if we were to proceed with baby-making plans.

Lately I’ve been spending more time with my little nephew, Brian, who is five. He is smart, feisty, and fluctuates from joy to anger in a matter of seconds. He has a chipped front tooth from falling on his face once. I recommend anyone who is thinking of having kids to babysit a five year-old for a day or two. One day, I saw him, and he said something which I couldn’t hear, so I stooped down to his height. “Uncle Huy,” he said, “I love you very much.” He kissed me on the cheek, smelling of grass and apple juice. Aw, I thought, this is such a sweet little boy; he had grown up so fast. Half an hour later, he had smeared chocolate ice cream literally all over his face and was running down the sidewalk, leaving a chocolaty trail. He stood on a big rock and peed a circle, and I stood there, pretending I wasn’t related to him.

Last week, Brian and his mom and I went to a restaurant, where he proceeded to play with the ice in his water. Soon he was running around the restaurant. After numerous warnings, I had to take him to the car, which he did not like. “You made a bad decision,” I said, “and the consequence is that I have to take you to the car.” He started crying and screaming. In the car I had to endure a horrible tantrum.

“I hate this world,” he cried, “I want to destroy the whole world!”

“Really?” I said, “do you want to destroy your house?” No, he said. How about your mom and dad, I asked, do you want to destroy them? No, he said. How about your teacher at preschool, do you want to destroy her? No, he said. Who or what do you really want to destroy then, I asked, and he thought about it for a second. “Well, I HATE you! You can’t PLAY with me anymore!”

“That’s too bad,” I said, “because I still love you.” That confused him. “You still love me even though I said I hate you?” he asked, kind of shocked. “Of course I do,” I said, “you made a bad decision, but that doesn’t mean you’re not still my favorite little nephew.” (He’s my only nephew, but he doesn’t need to know that). He was quiet in thought for a moment. “Well,” he said, “you can play with me a little bit.”

That episode was just two hours! From what I hear, once you have one of these kids, you can’t put them back (it would be uncomfortable for everyone to try). I think I’ll enjoy being a father eventually, but right now, I don’t want anything to disrupt my TV-watching schedule.

5 Comments | existence, family | Tagged: , , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Huy Le

The Price of College Style

May 11, 2012

For the past few months, I’ve been trying to live up to my new philosophy in life, which is “College Style!” That is, to do everything with the spirit of openness, optimism, and fun. We tend to lose this spirit as we grow older and become more obsessed with frivolous things like money and reputation and hygiene.

This past weekend two of my college friends came to visit me. It had been nearly nine years since I last saw Tracy and Holly. I recalled the late-night discussions, the all-nighters, the inebriated breakdowns over existential issues. Now they are both impoverished lawyers who are fighting for the little guys.

“We are on the train and will be there in 45 minutes,” Holly said. “Yay,” I said, “so where are you staying?” “What the hell,” she said, “we’re staying with you. You told us we could crash on your couch.” I didn’t recall saying that and was starting to panic, but then I remembered the mantra College Style. I rushed to take out the compost, which had been festering in the kitchen, producing a rancid smell that once you’re used to, it’s actually not noticeable. But even College Style has its limits.

It was nice to see Tracy and Holly again. The years were kind to them. They look like I remembered: Tracy tall and skinny with curly hair, Holly shorter and had put on some weight. “You both look just like you always did,” I said. “Yeah,” Holly replied, “and you look…old. Yet decrepit.” It was like we were back in college again!

For the three days they were here, we lived like college students. The first night, we drank, then went clubbing until 3am, then ran to a QFC to buy ice cream, which we proceeded to eat until 4am, at which point they passed out on the rug and couch in the living room while I slinked into my bed. The following day, we dragged ourselves out of bed, went to the U District to eat a greasy vegan breakfast, toured the City, raided a Trader Joe’s for a picnic at Alki, drank a box of wine, and went to a latin Club until 2am.  “College style, yay-yuh,” I said, while trying out some salsa turns. We got home at 2:30 and proceeded to talk for an hour. Then I crawled into bed, because by that time, my legs had started cramping up.

Between the craziness we reminisced. Holly and I are similar in that we pine for those best four years of our lives. “We will never experience that again,” we said, weeping gently into our glasses of wine. Tracy, however, is a weird combination of optimism and cynicism. “I don’t recall them being that good,” she said, “and I think that the best years of our lives are ahead.” “What a horrible thing to say!” we chastised, preferring to hold on to our crystalized memories.

Because I don’t have a Facebook account, Holly logged on to hers so I could see what the rest of my college friends were doing. An, one of my best friends, whom I lived with for three really great years before we completely lost touch with each other, was expecting his first child. His profile picture showed him with grey hair, slightly chubbier. He had become a doctor, and he’s married to one. Images of us rollerblading at midnight in the Quad, going to the movies with our other friends, singing classic Mexican love songs in a mariachi band with him playing the guitar and me the maracas. What the hell happened? How did nine years go by without us sending a single email to each other?

After they left, the sleep deprivation finally caught up to me, and I slept in until 3pm, waking up confused and disoriented, just like in college. I went to the computer to do some work, but it was depressing. I realized that I’ve been a horrible communicator, keeping in touch with maybe one of my college friends, and not even doing that very well. They probably have kids. Each day that passes by is a day further from those magical years. For Holly and me, we were lucky enough to understand how special they were while we living them. And perhaps because they were so amazing, we cling to them and compare everything to them, trying to relive them. But maybe Tracy is right, that these best four years of our lives will be followed by years that will be even better. Still, I should email An and see if he is interested in reuniting the mariachi band.

8 Comments | Depressing reflections, existence | Tagged: , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Huy Le

We must stop discrimination against competent people!

April 30, 2012

Hi everyone, I’m alive. Alive! At least, physically. I’ve just been insanely busy, and only partially because I’m addicted to Scramble with Friends on my phone. It’s mainly because I’m highly competent. Stop snickering. It’s true. I’ve been asked to do all sorts of stuff, and because I’m so competent and/or idiotic, I tend to say yes. Which makes me think about a very serious issue, a major problem in our society that is receiving very little attention: The discrimination against competent people. These are people who show up to meetings on time, who follow through on what they say they would do, and who normally speak in plain English and say sensible things like “We should try to start meetings on time” and “here, I printed out the minutes on the back of the agenda so that we don’t waste paper.” These are good people, and each day, they face constant challenges and discrimination, something I call “competentism,” and left unchecked, it may destroy our world.

As a society, we punish the competent. Sometimes this is conscious, such as when competent managers are neglected in promotions in favor of idiotic but more controllable ones. Or parents will be like “Huy, you should mow the lawn. Yeah, we know it’s your brother’s turn, but he doesn’t do a good job. And plus, he’s napping.”

Oftentimes, however, it is unconscious. All of us are guilty of competentism. Think about it, when you need to move, whom do you call? A competent friend, that’s whom. (The competent also tend to have better grammar). Competent people end up bearing the brunt of responsibilities, being asked to do much more stuff while the lazy and incompetent come up with excuses and stay at home and update their Facebook timeline or something. Worse, we let them get away because it is much easier to work with competent people, continuing a vicious cycle.

But at what price comes our unfair treatment of the competent? Just look around you. Do you see a lot of competent people in power? No! Despite working harder and smarter, few competent people are in charge of anything. Incompetent people tend to be louder and more obnoxious, which unfortunately and unfairly means that they are much more likely to get what they want. Then there’s the internalized oppression that the competent have to deal with, where they intellectualize the world’s unfair treatment of them as a result of their own failings. They tend to be more modest and thoughtful, which can be a serious disadvantage with the way things work.

Years of constant discrimination have led the competent to go into hiding, trying to blend in with the masses, sometimes feigning idiocy. While it may seem that there are few of us, especially in recent years, in fact, some studies estimate that at least 3 out of every 10 people can be categorized as competent. It just seems like there are not that many because we will not publicly acknowledge our competency for fear of being voted as chair of a committee and assigned additional work.

We need to undo competentism. Decades of the incompetents in power have resulted in what? A polluted world, a sad global economy, crappy reality shows, and stupid commercials like the ones for MiO water enhancers with the disturbing anthropomorphized animals.

I am calling on all of us to stop this war on the competent, or else our world may be doomed. We competent people must band together and support each other. We must also be willing to run for office and other positions of power so that we can change the world for the better. We must find allies in the thoughtful semi-competent. If we all work together, we can create a world where our kids can grow up and feel like they can be free to be competent without being asked to plan a wedding or something.

6 Comments | Brilliant ideas, high on something, rants | Tagged: , , | Permalink
Posted by Huy Le

Organic cooking: expensive, yet inconvenient

March 19, 2012

Today, during one of my meetings, I was discussing privilege, especially White privileges and its impact on educational advocacy. (What, doesn’t everyone discuss that?). I said, “Well, I know I have male privilege. There are lots of advantages I have because I’m a guy.”  “Yeah, you do have male privilege,” said my companion, a feisty 50-year-old woman, “and cute-male privilege, too.” Wha? Really? Cute-male privilege? Aw, shucks, I said, winking at her with my one eye that doesn’t twitch. Needless to say, she’s my new favorite person.

This weekend, it snowed on St. Patrick’s day, and I watched from my window as the snow fell on the cherry blossoms and daffodils. It was sublime and poetic. And by sublime and poetic, I mean it was annoying. The cherry blossoms are now frost-bitten and the plum-blossoms, so vibrant before, now look craptacular.

On Sunday, we invited an organic vegan family over: Harriet, her husband Jim, and their little eight-year-old boy, Daniel. Of course, these are all fake names, so that you won’t send them anonymous hate mail to tell them off for not having a TV and depriving their son of pop culture. Seriously, no TV for Daniel. Poor kid has to make ceramics or weld a coat rack or something, I don’t know, whatever it is that kids who don’t watch TV do for fun.

Anyway, they usually invite us over for dinner, cooking up awesome food, food so healthy and organic that you feel your cells regenerating with each bite. This time, I felt bad that they were always cooking, so I said, “Hey, why don’t you come over to our place and we’ll cook instead,” which was a really bad idea, like that one time I was like, “Hey, maybe I should go into social work…”

“OK,” they said, “we’ll bring a salad!”

Crap, we thought, we didn’t know how to cook organic stuff! We generally avoid organics whenever possible. They’re expensive, and they quickly decompose. I like my broccoli to cost 99 cents a pound and be perfectly green after 4 weeks in the fridge, and still taste delicious, minus the migraines afterward. We looked up some recipes that looked easy enough, and I went shopping while Jameelah stayed at home and put away Raid, Windex, Chlorox wipes, turpentine, paint thinner, and our asbestos sculpture.

At the market, I was trying to intellectualize every purchase. “Sure, this can of cannelli beans is $2.89, and I need 4 of them, and while the non-organic beans are only 79 cents a can, just think, I can live a second longer for every organic bean I eat.” The tiny jar of tomato paste, of which we only needed two tablespoons, was $3. Organic bread, $5 a loaf. 2 organic yellow onions, $7 total. Organic scallions, $2.50, times 2. “Yes, these will be so good for us,” I thought, “it will counter the all the processed food we ate yesterday.”  I bought organic sea salt, organic quinoa, organic garlic, 1/4pound of organic cashews in the bulk section for $5, a can of organic chickpeas for $3, a can of organic tomatoes for $4. An eggplant for $4, 2 zuchinnis for $3. So…healthy…and…good for the environment…

At home, we started panicking. We couldn’t find organic arrowroot powder! What about black pepper? I forgot the organic black pepper, and the organic silken tofu, we were doomed! They would be able to sniff it out, and we would be marked as terrible, insensitive hosts. Little Daniel might have an allergic reaction, being organic all his life!

At 5:45pm, they showed up, 15 minutes early, frazzling us both, since we looked like crap. But being college-style, I didn’t care, and came to greet them with hands smelling like $7 of organic onions.

“Here, have a drink,” I said, “it’s my chocolate milkshake martini.” Harriet stared at it. “What’s in it? Is it vegan?” It turns out that Harriet and Jim are pretty easygoing. They liked our food, and appreciated that we tried to make everything organic. They brought a huge salad that had 20 different kinds of organic vegetables, fruit, and nuts in it, mixed with a soy-yogurt-with-probiotics-and-tarragon dressing. The whole salad probably cost $80 dollars to make. “Half of our income goes to food,” they said, “but we think it’s worth it.”

“Yum,” we said, “have some of this moussaka,” which is some sort of lasagna-like dish comprising layers of potatoes, eggplant, zucchinis, covered in tomato sauce and topped with a layer of cashew-silken-tofu mixture and baked.

“It’s delicious,” they said, and I cringed, feeling like we were feeding them poison with the non-organic tofu. It’s like Edgar Allen Poe’s “The Tell-Tale Heart,” watching little Daniel eat the moussaka.  What if his system is not used to nonorganic stuff? What if it makes him ill? He might never weld another coat rack again! He was very well-behaved, happily eating all his food without complaints, and with each bite of the moussaka, my guilt grew and I wanted to smack his fork away, yelling, “Don’t eat it! You have so much to live for!” But then I realized he didn’t have TV.

Afterward, we played several Mensa-approved card games designed to improve people’s IQ. All in all, we actually had a great time. “Let’s do this again soon,” they said, and we said “absolutely.” As soon as they left, I broke out a package of Spicy Sweet Chili Doritos, which are basically corn chips flavored with chemicals. Definitely not organic, but so damn good.

(Who wants the rest of our organic tomato paste? Too late. It decomposed in the fridge).

2 Comments | family, food | Tagged: , , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Huy Le

How college-style are you? Take this quiz to find out.

March 13, 2012

Hey everyone,

Yesterday was my birthday, and Jameelah surprised me with a two-pound bar of Trader Joe’s chocolate. I ate half of it and got kind of sick. Totally worth it. College-style!

Last Friday, we totally got tipsy with some really foul drinks our friends made, then walked to a 30-and-over club, where we made friends and danced with people dressed like pimps and ho’s. College-style!

They finally fixed our dishwasher, only after 9 months. College-style!

OK, the last one was not really college-style, but it was important to note that we no longer have to wash dishes by hands like peasants. .

As I live more and more in the real world, I start to notice several differences between this world and college. And no sir, I don’t like it as much. I mean, it’s nice to have money and to be able to eat dinner every day, but there are lots of things about college that I miss. The real world is about security, while college is about exploration. The real world is about image, while college is about connection. The real world is about how things are, while the college world is about how things could be, with hopes and dreams and bunnies for everyone.

This is not to say that we should all stay in college forever. That would be sad and creepy and campus security would be all like “Sir, some students are saying an Asian dude with messy hair and an SUV keeps dropping by the Quad and staring at them wistfully, and if you don’t leave right now I’m going to have to arrest you,” etc.

The saddest thing is that “No” is the default answer in the real world. Do you want to get a drink tonight? “Thanks, but I’m kind of tired.” Hey, want to go camping this weekend? “Thanks, but I have to do my taxes.” Let’s catch a movie! “You’re sweet, but I got a concussion last night and my doctor says I have to stay in the ER for monitoring, since I might die from a brain hemorrhage.”

Boooo! We all have to live in the real world. But why can’t we adopt some of those things that make college so great? We need to combine the security and maturity of the real world with the joy, exuberance, and endless possibilities of college. The real world would be a much better place to live if we were all a little bit more college-style.

Here, to find out how college-style you are, take this simple quiz:

 

Question 1: A friend calls you up at 3pm, asking you to come to happy hour at 4pm. What do you do?

A. I would check my schedule to see if I’m available, look at traffic patterns on my smart phone, and maybe join if I’m free and don’t have to wake up early tomorrow for work.

B. One hour of notice? That’s so inconsiderate to even ask me. How thoughtless.

C. I would chew eight white Tums to make it look like I’m foaming at the mouth, tell my boss I have rabies, then get a co-worker to drive me to the “hospital,” yay-yuh!

 

Question 2: After happy hour, your friends decide they would come over to your place in an hour. Your place is gross and you don’t have any good snacks. What would you do?

A. I would clean my place quickly, then run to the nearest store for chips and salsa

B. I would never invite someone over unless my place is clean and there are tasteful snacks such as gourmet olives and sundried tomato tapenade.

C. I would watch something on hulu.com or Netflix. Five minutes before people come over, I’d quickly close the curtains on the bathtub so no one sees how gross it is then put out an assortment of beer as snacks, yay-yuh!

 

Question 3: It’s midnight, and someone has a great idea to run to the playground and play on the swings. What would you do?

A. It depends on whether I have work or not tomorrow. If there is no work, I might consider it.

B. Swings are for children, and to even suggest going out into the cold at such an hour, how reckless and irresponsible.

C. Grab a six-pack and some glow-sticks, run to the playground, yay-yuh!

 

Give yourself 19 points for every A; zero points for every B; and a billion points for every C. If your total score is 0 to 19, you lead a sad, joyless existence and should reexamine your life. If your total is 38 to 1,000,000,038, you’re serious but still open to life and there is still hope for you. If your score is over 1,000,000,038, you’re totally college-style and living life, yay-yuh! Go get checked for Hepatitis C.

8 Comments | Brilliant ideas, high on something | Tagged: , , , | Permalink
Posted by Huy Le

What I learned about life from making kimchi

March 1, 2012

As my birthday approaches this month, I start to reflect back on my life and accomplishments. And by that, I mean I start to freak out and get depressed and eat like an entire family-sized bag of Tim’s Cascade jalapeno-flavored potato chips, followed by eight Tums. Birthdays are pretty brutal; they force us to reflect on ourselves and our worth, and that’s never a good thing.

This year, however, I discovered the joys of making kimchi! Yes, kimchi, that traditional Korean condiment made with vegetables, usually nappa cabbage, garlic, ginger, Korean red peppers, green onions, all fermented until it tastes sour and smells like spicy marinated gym socks, but in a good way. Vegan kimchi’s are hard to come by, since they’re usually made with fish, tiny shrimp, oyster, or other animal ingredients, so I thought I would make my own. Through these past couple of months of experimenting, I have learned several valuable lessons about life and happiness, which I will now share with you, because they are profound.

First, kimchi is a combination of different elements. The balance of all these different ingredients differentiates a good kimchi from a horrid one. A good one must be balanced between salty, spicy, sour, bitter, sweet, and umami, or “savory.” In my first batch, I used way too much garlic and ginger, producing a vile and slightly toxic concoction that would have brought tears to my eyes if the Lasik surgery I got in Vietnam hadn’t damaged my tear ducts. Lesson about life: hipsters are ridiculous, and I hate them.

Second, one of these ingredients, Korean red pepper is essential. You can use cayenne or sriracha or jalapeno or whatever, but the taste will be different. For weeks, I went around local Asian markets searching for this elusive red pepper, having no luck. So I took a shortcut and made my kimchi with cayenne pepper flakes, and it was not good. Lesson about life: Millennials totally get on my nerves with their whininess and constant narcissism.

Third, kimchi takes time to ferment. A young kimchi tastes different than one that has been allowed time to age, to develop its flavors. The perfectly aged kimchi will taste better and more complex and will complement foods better and also be better for you. Lesson about life: What’s with those stupid songs with the breathy women singing songs with whimsical lyrics that are used in commercials these days? I’m sick of breathy women singing songs with whimsical lyrics. I hate whimsical lyrics!

Fourth, kimchi is good for you, full of great bacteria that help in digestion and so on. Each bite of fermented cabbage is full of millions or billions of living, writhing, squirming bacteria that will improve your health. We take them for granted, because we can’t see them, but they are there. Lesson about life: Morning people! With their yoga and green smoothies and perkiness, could they be any more irritating?

Fifth, kimchi complements other foods. Kimchi is rarely eaten by itself. Though it is bold, it is also understated and humble and plays a supporting role, helping to enhance and uplift other dishes. This role does not diminish it, but rather lifts the kimchi up as well. Lesson about life: Gerber commercials with those babies having adult hands doing magic or something. That is so creepy and disturbing! Babies are cute because they’re clumsy and helpless. They can’t do magic or juggle! It’s sick, sick!

For my birthday, I’ll eat my kimchi and reflect on my life and what I have accomplished and what is in store. And as I savor each morsel of fermented cabbage, I’ll be thinking—Those dancing KIA hamsters are truly insipid and annoying. If I could, I would kick each of them in the face while they’re dancing to that stupid song.

13 Comments | Depressing reflections, rants | Tagged: , , , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Huy Le

Millennials: Get a Grip!

February 19, 2012

 If you’re not aware, millennials, or “Generation Y,” are people born from around 1982 to 1995. They have lots of great qualities, tending to be very tech- savvy, progressive, smart, and optimistic.

They also drive me nuts, constantly needing affirmation, talking about themselves nonstop, and whining just about everything. This is a conversation that actually happened recently:

Millennial: I’m a little upset.

Me: What happened?

Millennial: Well, I dropped by to say hi to you while you were working, and you basically ignored me.

Me: I had a lot of work to do that day. Your text said you would be there in twenty minutes, and you didn’t show up for an hour. I stopped to say hi, but I had to get back to work.

Millennial: Now you’re blaming me? Why didn’t you call me when I didn’t show up to check in on me?

Me: Uh…probably because I was busy. Maybe you should be on time next time.

Millennial: Well, fine, I will be sure to do that, but my feelings are still hurt.

 

Here’s a conversation with another millennial:

Me: You chair the communication committee, which has been meeting every second Tuesday of the month at 6pm. Why didn’t it meet this month?

Millennial: I’m sorry, but I took up yoga, and the committee meeting conflicts with that.

Me: Why didn’t you inform the other committee members and figure out a new meeting time?

Millennial: I’ve been really busy. There’s a lot going on in my life right now. I’m overwhelmed.

 

Here’s another one. I swear, I am not making any of this up:

Millennial: I didn’t appreciate the feedback you gave me yesterday.

Me: I’m sorry about that. Did you disagree with the feedback?

Millennial: No, you were completely right. I shouldn’t have goofed off during that presentation.

Me: Then what’s the problem?

Millennial: Your timing. You gave the feedback in the morning, and it put me in a bad mood all day and I couldn’t focus on the rest of my work.

Me: All right, if I have feedback, when should I give it then?

Millennial: In the afternoon, but not on a Monday or Friday. On Monday, it might ruin my week, but on Friday, it might ruin my weekend.

Argh!! Millennials, get a grip on yourselves! Here are some words of wisdom from someone older and more grizzled by life:

  1. Your feelings are not always valid. You are entitled to feel whatever you feel, but don’t force others to affirm them. If you borrowed your neighbor’s lawnmower and ran over your own foot, don’t get upset and hurt if your neighbor is not bringing you soup while you recover.
  2. It’s not always about you. You may think I’m intentionally ignoring or harassing you or whatever, but 99% of the time, I am too busy with other stuff to spend time plotting ways to hurt your feelings.
  3. Other people exist. And they have feelings and stuff to do too.
  4. If you have a job, do your work! I don’t care if you had an argument with your boy/girlfriend, or your improv or Zumba class conflicts with schedules, or you’re feeling stressed by life in general, or feedback about your behavior put you in a bad mood. You’re paid to get work done, so get it done and stop whining.
  5. Things are not as serious as you think. Yeah, not everyone could make your birthday dinner. It’s not the end of the world!

Of course, there is a huge disclaimer: Not all millennials are whiny and self-absorbed. In fact, I know many wonderful, thoughtful ones. And not all non-millennials are great, either. There are quite a few Gen X and even Baby Boomers who get on my nerves, including a 40-something dude yesterday whom I wanted to punch in the neck.

But there are definite patterns. So I am pleading with the millennials, who will be our next political leaders and titans of industries: Get a grip on yourselves, or we are all doomed.

14 Comments | rants | Tagged: , , | Permalink
Posted by Huy Le

154: The snowman, symbol of the beauty of life and the cruelty of existence

January 19, 2012

Dear everyone,

I returned from a one-week trip in LA, where it was 70 degrees and sunny. The flowers were blooming, and people in LA seemed to be better-looking and better-dressed. Heck, even the hoodlum teenagers who bounced around the Santa Monica boardwalk looked like Gap kids. I was sad to have to come back to wintry Seattle, which was just hit with a snowstorm. Every year Seattle gets into a tizzy about the snow. Due to our steep and numerous hills, whenever snow is in the forecast, everyone screams “Snowpocalypse” and rush out to get groceries and sand. Most years, we’re disappointed. This year, we got some snowfall, and I stayed inside to get some work done.

Then, it hit me. I had gotten old. We got three inches and I was working. That’s just nuts. How many people in Vietnam wish they could in their life see snow. “What is it like?” they would ask when I come to visit, their eyes gleaming. They eat their pho and spring rolls, imagining the fields of white we take for granted. Most are resigned to the fact that they will never, ever get to experience it. I am lucky that I can, and even though I’m getting older, I can sometimes recall the magic of that first snow I experienced at the age of 8 in Philadelphia.

So when a friend called asking to go outside and play, I said hell yeah. We went sledding. We had a snowball fight with people in the neighborhood. And we made snowmen. This piece above, “The Happy Snowman,” is a visceral representation of the joy of childhood, of a snow day. The snowman, childlike, raises its arms and head to the sky in an obvious expression of complete happiness. This piece  is made poignant by the fact that within hours, the snow will melt, and the snowman will no longer exist. His unequivocal contentment, then, is either tied to his acceptance of the inevitable, or else to his utter ignorance of existential inevitability. The Happy Snowman is a reminder of both the beauty of life, and of the cruelty of existence. It is a reminder that our time is short, and we should learn to prioritize the important things.

And this piece can be yours for only $500.

6 Comments | childhood, existence | Tagged: , , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Huy Le

Why I’m no longer watching Law and Order: SVU, Criminal Minds, Bones, or other crime procedurals

January 2, 2012

The main purpose of TV, I would say, is to help us escape from our daily lives. I come home exhausted after hours of telling people what to do and taking credit for their work, so an outlet for escapism is much needed. So I started watching Law and Order and other shows that are known as “crime procedurals.” These shows tend to start with a dead body being discovered, or someone getting killed. Then, for an hour, a team of investigators and scientists work together to find the killer, usually succeeding by the end of the episode.

These shows are extremely addictive, which is why there are dozens of them, some with several variations: CSI, NCIS, Law and Order, Numb3rs, Bones, Criminal Minds, etc. They are well-written and well-acted, with interesting stories and good pacing. Besides those factors, though, there are two elements of these shows that make them compelling. First is the fact that we are all wired to be problem-solvers. We like puzzles. Each show is a jig-saw puzzle, and we get to go along on the ride as the professionals find the pieces and put everything together. Secondly, we are attracted to the sense of justice that the shows impart. At the end of each episode, usually the killer is caught, his motives are explained, and there is some sort of justice delivered.

I spent a lot of 2011 watching these shows. On New Year’s Eve, I caught a glimpse of an episode of Criminal Minds where children’s bodies were discovered, and at the end, they realized the killer was a kid who just enjoyed going around killing other kids. It made me sick. It made me even sicker to realize that I had not gotten sick earlier. This is horrible stuff and yet it was just another hour of entertainment and everyone could just get back to having dinner or whatever.

It is alarming there are so many of these shows out there. If TV is a necessary form of escapism, then what exactly are we escaping into? We escape the real world, where horrible things happen and we read about them, to TV world, where similary awful things happen and we get to see the gory details. In “Bones,” for example, the bodies are displayed in all their mutilated, decomposing glory. They spend a lot of time on these fake cadavers. The results are so gruesome that in the past, I had to look away. Now, they barely bother me.

That’s the thing, these shows desensitize us to violence and murders, even as they make us feel reassured that there is justice at the end. I’m not saying they cause people to be more violent. I haven’t been inclined to go around killing people in creative ways that the shows depict. Apologists for crime procedurals might even say they have a role in providing an outlet, a vicarious sort of catharsis. But I’m sure watching this much violence and depravity day after day doesn’t really help things.

At the least, it doesn’t help me. So for 2012, I’m going to try not to watch any more of these shows. Escapism, healthy escapism, should nourish the mind and soul, or at the very least, be neutral. It should not force us to see, in brutal details, the ugliness of the world that we’re trying to escape from.

Of course, this is not to say that I am against the depiction of violence and murders. These last few months, I’ve discovered some great and very violent shows. “The Walking Dead” portrays a post-apocalyptic world where a disease has wiped out most of mankind. Survivors have to make tough choices as they face zombies, including killing each other to stay alive. “The Game of Thrones” depicts a medieval-like fantasy land where warring clans do not hesitate to behead one another. And “Battlestar Galactica,” a sci-fi also set in a post-apocalyptic world where intelligent robots look and behave like humans even as they try to destroy us. Lots of violence everywhere. But at the least, the characters change and grow, and there are moments of humanity and lessons that we can learn in these characters’ choices and actions.

Not that we actually learn anything from shows in general. However, I think good shows deeply explore the worst and the best in humans and in humanity, not just the worst.

13 Comments | Depressing reflections, existence, rants | Tagged: , , , , , , | Permalink
Posted by Huy Le

JN152: Last chance to enjoy these sexy eyeballs

December 29, 2011

My friends,

For the last several months, I’ve been enjoying the Lasik, which Jameelah and I both got on a whim while in Vietnam. That’s right, we passed by an eye hospital, saw the sign that said “Lasik surgerie, much cheap,” and went inside, and after a barrage of tests and cultural hijinx, we got the procedure done. And neither one of us went blind, which is really great. In fact, for several weeks, my vision was perfect. I would walk down the streets of Saigon, pointing out the smallest letters I could see. The world was open to me. “Adult Karaoke,” I would read, “Goat hot pot,” it was great. Completely free of the shackles of glasses for the first time in 17 years, I was ecstatic, and opened my eyes real wide, so that others may see how big and pretty they are. These sexy vegan eyes, obscurred nearly two decades by half-inch-thick lenses.

Well, that was months ago. Vision got gradually worse as we got back to the States. I can see things much better than before and can drive without glasses, but things far away have definitely gotten blurrier. Watching our giant TV eight feet away is fine, but the words on the screen can be hard to make out.

Worse, however, all the straining and squinting has changed my appearance. A friend stared at me a while, speechless. “Ah,” I thought, “she must be entranced by my big, beautiful eyes in all their naked glory. I better remind her that I’m married.”

“Yeah,” I said, “so Jameelah and I got Lasik in Vietnam. Cool, huh?”

“Oh,” she said, relieved, “I thought something was different. You have this kind of dazed look, kind of like you’re high.”

A couple of other people also said similar things: “You look high,” “You look really, really tired,” and “I never noticed how many weird little things are floating around the whites of your eyes. You might want to get that checked out.”

Anyway, today, I went to the optometrist, a jovial man who did not reprimand me for getting “much cheap” Lasik in Vietnam. “All the equipments are pretty much the same everywhere,” he said. I asked him if I should get more Lasik. He peered into my eyeballs. “Yup,” he said, ”they definitely shaved aways some layers of your corneas. Unfortunately, so much so that more Lasik might be risky. You could get 20/20 vision with a second round. Or, it could fail, and your corneas will be so weak that if someone punches you in the eye, it could rupture your corneas and you would need a transplant to see again.”

I left his office after placing an order for glasses. That’s right, I am back to glasses. “You don’t need to wear them all the time,” said the eye doctor, “just when you drive, or watch a movie, or when it’s cloudy or rainy, or when you wake up.”

“But don’t worry,” he added, “in a few years, you’ll be old, and then you’ll be far-sighted, aha haha.”

My new glasses will arrive next week. They will be significantly lighter than my old ones, and you know what, I kind of miss wearing glasses. You know, glasses…people with them are perceived to be smarter, studies show. Glasses…are cool…I’ll probably wear them all the time, because they’re so…cool. So if you see me this week, try to gaze into these sexy peepers one last time before they’re gone.

And if you say I look high, I will punch you.

If I can see you…

2 Comments | existence, high on something, Vietnam | Tagged: , , | Permalink
Posted by Huy Le

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