Summer Fling

This past week, as Washington perseveres the late-summer humidity, it was dawned on me that the window for a summer fling is almost closed. With young interns packing up their belongings, the District waves goodbye to some beautiful summer memories - and yearns for the next May to come. In that spirit, I found it the perfect time to wrap up what was left from my summer romance and shrug off the dramas and baggages it carried.

It started out just glittery and romantic as those fireflies that sparkled the little trail from M Street to Georgetown when we walked through, hand in hand, starry eyes, and occasional kisses. He was so good on paper: 30, lawyer, avid runner, worldly and smart. Sure there were a few shortcomings. Sure he was not very much my physical type. But in some way, he was like a fedora - I knew it's not my style, but it was right there, so I tried it on anyway. Somehow throughout the improtu meet-ups and the abnormally frequent dates, the ideas of having him along was pleasant enough that it became almost like a bad habit - you know you should stop but it's too painful to go through the awkward conversation.

Yet as the summer gradually closed, I knew it was time to stop the realistically cruel romance when one night I painfully put on my shoes to go meet his friend in Georgetown. Sitting through what seemed to be an endless (or bottomless?) cup of coffee - I told myself it was too excruciating (and costly) to carry on. And I stopped it.

As I contemplated my summer and my fair share of summer flings, I couldn't help wondering why they have become so frequently addictive - is it because of the summer weather, an overly warming heart, or simply a groin in heat? It's hard to tell. But what is more mind-blogging is the gradually lessened degree of pain associating with it - I was heart-broken saying good-bye to Adrian, sad to see it ended with Gary, but this time, I only felt lightly regretful - without even knowing what I regretted about...

And then, suddenly, I realized that I was regretting the ability to feel crazy and angry, to feel the pain of a broken heart, of shattered memories. As we go through life and try to be stronger - there is just that little trade-off of becoming more jaded and cynical about life, about love, about others...

... or is it not so little at all?

Photo credit: Summer Fling by Megan Aroon Duncanson

family

I realized today that I don't blog about my family very often.

It's not a typical gay-son-distanced-from-his-family story. As a matter of fact, I love my family dearly, and probably even more since I left for school. Being far away from home, I hold on to only beautiful memories of my family members and cherish the little time we have together each year - even though at the end of each visit, I often feel like I've got enough of a family dose that can last well until the next one.

The reason for my revelation today is that I've been absolutely hooked on Brothers & Sisters. This show is beautiful put together and exploits to the core the family dynamics that everyone of us can identify with, be it the overly worried and boundary-blind mother; the subtly loving but equally secretive father; the other woman and her daughter who unavoidably take part in the whole family drama; and an uncle who struggles to have his own life outside of this dysfunctional family. Yet above that is the demonstrably immense love and support for each other of the siblings who share no secrecy, who fight like cats and dogs but always show up for each other when in need.

The series constantly evoked more beautiful memories of my family members - especially when I desperately needed help: my father worrily sitting at my bedside to attend to my fever, begging me to eat just another spoon of porridge; my mother making dozens of call to help me figuring out the bureaucracy of my scholarship; and my sister comfortly hugged me before I left the country and especially this summer, when she finally accepted me as who I am.

Yet, as much as I find strength and support from my family, I sometimes wonder if the family structure and its underlying Asian structure are always so supportive. First, the emphasis on maintaining an idealistic family structure can be doubly destructive. I feel that I was lucky to be born in such time when sending kids abroad was popular and feasible. Looking at my sister and her generation, when the common ideals were to get married, have a family and a stable government job, and survive the rest of your life. She didn't know, at the time, that she could dream of flying away, of experiencing different things. What I see in her family, as well as my cousins who still live at home, is solely a sense of surviving their life. That family pressure was imposed on them and finally coopted them into a prestructured life without much personal enjoyment. Of course, my sister may feel perfectly happy with her choice - I couldn't help wondering if she would have chosen something else if she were in my shoes, or even now, with exposure, albeit late, to different things.

Second, while providing an unequivocal safety net to family members, it can become a source of over dependency. As my friend Will explains it, a lot of young people in various countries across Asia live with their families, so their income can be spent on themselves. With that, they have less incentives to try harder to pursue something much bigger than a mediocre job. I find this relatively true for quite many people.

Yet, it is not an excuse to blame our families for everything. All these aside, family is still our eternal source of strength. I know mine is, for both me and my sister - especially in times like this when she needs more help than ever with her children. At the end of the day, when you know that there are people who love and support the you you are, it is truly an utmost comfort and luxury.

looking for the comfortable fit....

In these past few weekends, I have become quite resentful of packing overnight bags or for weekend trips. The truth is that I don't have a bag that is reasonably big for a lot of options - so I often find myself scratching my head, thinking of what to wear the following day(s). While convincing myself that the light bag will ultimately benefit my form in the long run, I often end up with more headache than needed, and definitely more late records at work.

I used to have this sturdy Ben Sherman weekender that was of just the perfect size - with every single feature you can imagine for a short weekend trip, such as designated compartments for toiletries and shoes - until my friend Dash broke it without replacement (Ehem!). Since then I have been looking for another that fits, and to my disappointment, I am faced with more annoyance and hassles before every single weekend trip.

I guess looking for a perfect fit is what we constantly do in life - something comfortable, like a keepall that can, well, keep all that we desire. Sometimes we know things don't fit just by looking, but most times, we often like to try them out - even though we many times we have to regretfully take all the stuff out and repack again. Relationships are just like that. Take my friend Viet, who we saw in Philadelphia. For years he bent himself backward, trying to fit into some conventionally expectation of a romantic partner with unexpected long-distance visits, romantic dinners accompanied by roses and piano recitals at luxury hotels, exclusive classical concerts, etc. They worked, to a certain extent, but those relationships never lasted, leaving him with quetions about his choice of girls. And then he met Minh - a down-to-earth girl with a lot of character and charms - and they fell in love just like that, organically and beautifully, without pretentious tactics. By staying true to himself, Viet has found a comfortable fit.

Is this process of constantly trying a nightmare? Yes, indeed, but at the end of the day, a perfect fit is most likely going to make us very happy. A sturdy bag carries a long way just like a fitting relationship that lasts for years... Just one thing though, a relationship carries with it a lot more emotional baggages than a bag (not that a bag doesn't come with emotional attachments, just less!) - how thick-skin can we be to constantly trying?

* Photo credit: Sir Sean Connery for Louis Vuitton - the new Waterproof Keepall.