Sen. Daniel Inouye, Senate President Pro-Tempore

Not to undermine any honor due to Senator Robert Byrd, who passed away on Monday, but it is worth noting that his passing has created a void in the position of Senate president pro-tempore. This position is filled by the longest-serving member of the majority party, who is now Senator Daniel Inouye (D-Hawaii).

This means that Sen. Inouye is now third in line of presidential succession. That is the closest an Asian American has ever come to the presidency.

To be clear, no part of me is wishing that Pres. Obama and Vice Pres. Biden get knocked off just so we get an Asian American president. (Besides, in my opinion, our president's Hawaiian upbringing, Indonesian step-dad and Chinese brother-in-law practically make him an honorary Asian anyway.) I'm just saying that this is a noteworthy moment in American history. Perhaps it is now somewhat imaginable that an Asian American could someday get the top job.

Sen. Inouye, 85 (damn, these senators are old), has been a U.S. senator since 1963. He fought in the Nisei 442nd Regimental Combat Team during World War II, and was awarded the Medal of Honor. As senator, Inouye was instrumental in securing reparations for Japanese Americans who were interned during WWII. He also voted against the Iraq War in 2002.

When Nerds Attempt to Hook Up

I know several people who met their significant others at a work-related conference. I suppose this makes sense, given that the conditions are ideal for a hook-up. You're at a hotel already. You get to meet people with similar interests as you do, and everyone is dressed up and looking nice. And after or in between all the conferencing stuff, every social and networking occasion involves alcohol. And you're there for only a few days, so you'd might as well have a little fun while you're working.

However, in regards to academic conferences, which are the only conferences I've been to, I find it hard to believe that much hooking up happens. Quite frankly, I rarely see anyone remotely fuckable at academic conferences. Professors are largely former speech and debate geeks and academic decathletes (no joke), so one can only imagine what kind of a meat market academic conferences might be.

At a recent conference I attended, I did manage to meet someone with hook-up potential. He wasn't a professor or a graduate student, but worked as a program coordinator at an institution that works in historical preservation. I'll just refer to him as Sriracha. Because I only remember that his name started with an S. And, well, because he was hot. Anyway, I met Sriracha with a group of graduate students who were having dinner and drinks at the end of the first day of the conference. As the night progressed, we got drunk, danced, flirted, and eventually found ourselves back at the hotel.

Now, I'm not one to do the one-night-stand thing, even in my drunkest and flirtiest state. So I was pretty careful about setting my boundaries and keeping things light. Sriracha, however, definitely wanted sex. A part of me was definitely tempted to throw caution to the wind and sleep with the guy. But then, the dude suddenly transformed into a pubescent boy. After going in for a kiss, he started talking like Screech from Saved By the Bell and exclaimed, "Woah, what happened there?" And then he told me he wanted to see my "boobies, " after which I burst out laughing and told him I had to call it a night. Any desire on my part to hook-up fizzled. I didn't see the guy again for the rest of the conference.

Anyway, because the academic world is absurdly small, it turns out that Sriracha knows a good friend of mine, who worked at the same institution he works for. She was quite shocked when I told her about our little almost-hook-up, because the dude is engaged to be married. And apparently, his fiancee is absolutely gorgeous. My friend is also very disappointed the fact that Sriracha would cheat on his fiancee, because he seems to be such a decent, intelligent, put-together guy.

I suppose I should be insulted by the fact that this guy was putting me in the position of Bombshell McGee, Divine Brown, or the however many women Tiger Woods managed to have affairs with. But mostly I just think the whole scenario is absurd. I'll bet Sriracha regularly has one night stands with women whenever he goes to conferences. Had he not chosen to make me his target, I'm sure he would have found someone else that night. He may have had a different woman each night he was at the conference. I think this might be the case for a lot of men in academia, especially in the humanities, where men are the distinct minority. Sriracha, who's attractive, but really is only a normal-looking dude in the normal world, must easily catch the attention of academic women, who either don't get to meet very many men at all or only meet friggin' weird and awkward men. (Again, academics really are just a bunch of nerds.) I've seen it time and again-- Guys who are really unexceptional-looking or even downright ugly getting way more ass than one would think they'd be able to get, or snagging women way out of their league and then cheating on them. I really don't get this behavior.

Jerks exist everywhere in and in all forms, of course. But put a guy in an environment where he feels entitled to be greedy, even the biggest nerd can be a playboy.

Good Friends/ Bad Friends

A few years ago, I was in a relationship with a guy who wasn't into me as much as I was into him. I only say this now, of course, in retrospect, because I'm able to recognize how much I feared facing the fact of his indifference. I had no problems being the initiator, planning out dates, thinking of ways to surprise him, making room in my life for him. It had occurred to me many times while we were together that I was putting more into our relationship than he was, but I never could bring myself to let him take the lead. Sometimes I would wait for him to make me dinner, plan a getaway, tickle my fancy. But I would usually cave and be the initiator once again. So long as he played along with my plans, I was able to ignore the glaring fact that I really should have confronted from the very beginning: Had I walked away from the relationship, he probably wouldn't have chased me. I was simply to afraid to put him to the test.

Largely because that relationship ended in exhaustive heartbreak for me, I've been much better about demanding more from men that I date. The relationship that came after was much healthier. I let him chase me, and then would reciprocate when I felt ready to. The relationship was a lot more equal, and I was able to rest assured that his actions would correspond to his feelings. I had expected that should that relationship end, it would be because one or both of us could not give anymore. And that's pretty much what happened. While I was deeply saddened by the end of that relationship, I didn't walk away feeling spent and stupid. I'd like to think that I'm now brave enough to walk away from any man who isn't into me, no matter how much I may be into him.

One would think that the expectation for reciprocity should be even easier to manage when it comes to non-romantic relationships. But these past several months have really made me consider what kinds of friendships I've maintained. It's always the worst and best of times that make me realize who my true friends are. And sure enough, these past several months have been at once the most exhilarating and the most exhausting for me. Some friends have been fantastic-- They've celebrated my graduating, getting a job, buying a home, at the same time that they've provided emotional support and companionship when I've felt just downright freaked out about all these sudden changes and transitions. Some other friends, however, have totally dropped the ball. They've not even sent a message of congrats or even acknowledged that this has been a really big year for me. Strangers have expressed more excitement over my accomplishments than some of these so-called friends have. Some of the very same friends who have been the recipients of my gifts and congrats when they've gotten married, graduated, had babies, bought houses, etc., have completely ignored my announcements. And even worse, some friends are even burdening me with their needs and problems at a time when dealing with my own life is already taking all of my energy.

I suppose everyone realizes at one point or another that some people simply suck. (I'm sure I've sucked, too.) I should be able to live with that realization, except that, as I did with my non-reciprocative ex-boyfriend, I think I'm bringing a lot of this sucky behavior onto myself. After all, it's not as if these sucky friends were ever really good friends in the first place. Through the years, I've been the one to round them up for our reunions during the winter holidays. I've been the one to send them birthday cards. I've been the one to fly across the country to their weddings. But if I never did, I think I would just never hear from some of these people. And, really, those friends who are laying their problems on me have always been better at taking than giving. I don't know why I haven't been better at setting my boundaries. I don't know why I haven't walked away from these friendships.

Actually, I know why. I keep holding onto these friends because it seems to be part of my nature to just shut up and do things that need to be done. Or, rather, I've been trained to do so by my parents. My mother will do it all for people-- She'll chauffeur, run errands, cook and clean up after. She'll do this for anyone who will ask, and only hopes that her efforts are appreciated. My father is more selective with whom he will serve, but when he does choose to do things for someone, he won't expect any reciprocity or even appreciation. He's been taking care of my greataunt, who regularly talks shit about him to other people and accuses him of stealing from her, simply because he knows she needs the help. He doesn't do this out of self-martyrdom or obligation or love. He just chooses to do it because he can.

So when I've complained to my parents about feeling slighted or burdened by some of my friends, my parents don't have a whole lot of sympathy to offer. My mother will say, "You should be a good friend simply because it's the good thing to do; Stop being so petty." And my father will say, "Just do what you are willing to do for your friends. Even if they don't acknowledge or appreciate it, just treat it as a favor to them." To my parents, friendship, love, marriage, family are all premised on simply doing things for people. And yes, oftentimes those people are going to take your kindness for granted, receive your help without offering anything in return. That's just a fact of life.

So maybe I need to figure out if that's how I want to conduct my friendships. That's certainly my first impulse, anyway. If a friend needs cheering up, I'll host a party. If a friend is stressed out about work, I'll turn my home into a workspace and make her dinner. If a friend is a hot mess, I'll do the dirty work. So long as I can do something, I'll try to. But unlike my parents, I get miffed if I don't feel sufficiently appreciated. And I get downright resentful if I feel that my efforts aren't being returned. I start thinking that that friend is simply stingy, lazy, selfish. I start wondering if he/she is a bad friend.

And the thing is, I know I'm being unfair in my resentment. First of all, I shouldn't get upset if I haven't even communicated to my friends that I am upset. And second, I may need to be better at recognizing the gestures of friendship my friends do offer, even if they're unlike mine. But still, conceding these two points doesn't make me any less disappointed.

Maybe there is something about this turning-point in my life that's making me ration out my emotional energy. And maybe I'm ready to only spend energy on my truly great friends, those who treat friendship as something to step up to, not just coast on.

Stuff White People Like: Chinese Parents' Edition

I was watching tv with my parents a few nights ago when we stumbled upon the Discovery Channel, which was broadcasting a marathon of Man Vs. Wild, starring Bear Grylls. Though I generally have no interest in the wilderness or how one would survive in it, I kinda love the show. I excitedly described to my parents some of Bear Grylls's nastiest antics: finding drinking water by squeezing it out of fresh elephant dung, hollowing out a camel carcass to use as shelter, and drinking turtle blood (pictured). Coincidentally, the episode we happened to catch was a countdown of Bear Grylls's 25 favorite moments, so my parents got a condensed helping of the show.

As they watched Bear Grylls (how awesome a name is that?) deliberately fall into a frozen lake, jump out of airplanes and eat giant exploding worms, they offered their commentary:

Mom: What is wrong with this crazy man? Why would he do these things? Does he want to die?

Dad: It's all fake! If he was actually risking death, they wouldn't show it on tv.

Me: Well, that Crocodile Hunter guy died, and I think they eventually showed it on tv.

Mom: That guy was stupid, too.

Dad: Why is it always stupid white men who like to do these stunts?

END.

My parents may have a point. Bear Grylls, Steve Irwin, the two guys on Dual Survival, just about every contestant on shows like Survivor-- It does seem like white people, and white dudes in particular, take delight in throwing themselves into environments in which humans aren't meant to exist, getting themselves injured, and eating lots of really gross things. Not to say that Asian folks don't have tendencies to do some crazy shit. Martial arts are pretty crazy, especially when taken to the level that THIS Chinese dude has. The Japanese have perfected the art of producing television shows featuring people who like to hurt themselves. And let's face it-- Half the "gross" stuff that white people eat on these stunt challenge shows like Fear Factor is probably standard cuisine in many Asian countries. (For the record, of that list, I've only had durian, stinky tofu, and fugu.)

But while all cultures may celebrate their own brands of crazy, I wonder if the type represented by Man Vs. Wild is a particularly white Anglo-American thing. Does the scenario of a lone dude combatting the hostile wilderness and defying death appeal to the standard frontier myth that has basically driven white men to "discover" new lands and conquer them? Does Bear Grylls satisfy some fantasy that white men have to maintain in order to feel powerful in this supposed post-feminist, post-racial, post-modern world?

I dunno. What I do know is that I love watching a white dude piss into a tube of snake skin and drink from it as a means to hydrate himself.

Home:Word

I am totally hooked on THIS ALBUM. I've sort of kept an eye on Magnetic North (a duo comprised of emcees Derek Kan and Theresa Vu) ever since I was introduced to their cover of "Drift Away." So when I learned that they collaborated with Taiyo Na, an artist whose work I've also recently come to admire, I had to buy the album right away. Besides, I'm always on the lookout for Asian American talent. Even better, socially conscious Asian American talent.

My favorite track is "We Belong," an anthem for Asian American empowerment that takes jabs at Rosie O'Donnell's ching-chong joke and Miley Cyrus's chinky eyes at the same time that it incisively comments on the model minority myth, refugee experience, and the lives of migrant workers. And on top of that, it's great to listen to, with a funky groove, singable chorus, and tight rhymes.

A friend of mine knows Vu, Kan and Na personally, and he says that they're fantastic people who are activists as well as artists. So support them and buy the album now!

We Did It!

My commencement ceremony was last Thursday, which was then followed by my brother's commencement on Friday. And if graduations were typically celebrated with the kind of hoopla that weddings are, my family would certainly know how to play up the pomp and circumstance. It doesn't matter that graduation ceremonies are tedious and boring, and that attending two of them in different states within a span of 24 hours was going to be one big pain in the ass. My family makes recognizing educational achievement a top priority. I'm pretty sure my mom would be more upset if I were to ditch my PhD commencement than if I were to get hitched via elopement.

If it weren't for the fact that both my brother and I are planning big moves to the east coast this summer, and if it weren't for the fact that I just purchased a condo (with my parents facilitating the down payment), and if it weren't for the fact that my generally frugal family isn't loaded, we would have hosted a banquet in honor of my and my brother's joint commencements. And why not? As it is, I was already ordering announcements and spending a lot of dough on my dress (aka super expensive regalia). Might as well make the whole event official, complete with gift registry and everything. In fact, before we had anticipated that we would graduate on the same year, my brother (the king of party-throwers) had my PhD party all planned out. It would take place in the fabulous backyard of my aunt and uncle's house. (In fact, their house would be great for an intimate wedding.) The theme would be "In Her Shoes"-- In honor of my shoe addiction, but also because, duh, who wouldn't want to be in my shoes? Guests would be required to wear black and/or white, unless they were a holder of a PhD, in which case they can come in color. (I would probably wear magenta.) And, of course, all in attendance have to come wearing their best pair of shoes. For sure, there would be dancing and lots of booze. Had we had the time or money to throw it, that party would have been more fun than most weddings I've been to.

But we managed to do it up right anyway. My parents, along with my closest aunts, uncles and cousins, drove up to Davis the day of my commencement. We did a banquet style lunch at a favorite Chinese restaurant, to which I was able to invite a table of my best friends from graduate school. After lunch, we headed over to an uncle's house and had champagne. My family was an awesome cheering section as they saw me get hooded. Lots of pictures, chit-chat with my dissertation chair, who served as my faculty escort. My cousin made me a lei with fifty carefully origamied $1 bills. I then had to drive home with my family that night, because we all had to catch a plane to Seattle first thing in the morning. Upon arriving in Seattle, we basically only had enough time to get a quick lunch before heading over to my brother's undergraduate commencement ceremony. As tired as we were, we were really excited to hear his name being called. He had already set the tone by decorating his robe with glitter. We're not necessarily noisy people, but we know how to make ourselves stand out. After his ceremony, we went to a fantastic restaurant called Etta's. After that, the older folks went back to the hotel as my brother, cousin and I went out clubbing to the wee hours of the morning. We spent the rest of the weekend helping my brother pack, treating his roommates to dinner, and meeting their families.

So our celebrations were fairly modest, but no small deal, given that so many people I know seem to forgo graduation celebrations altogether. Even my dad, who's typically a tightwad when it comes to unnecessary expenses and doesn't really believe in rituals and traditions, happily footed the bill for one big dinner after another. Relatives who couldn't make it to the celebrations have been sending me generous red envelopes congratulating me on my achievement. Which makes the complete lack of congrats from some friends for whom I shelled out a lot of money and energy for their bachelorette parties, weddings, baby showers, etc., all the more meaningful (and sad).

I know that I can only say this because we're privileged enough to afford any kind of celebration, but I'm really glad that my family is willing to make a big deal out of graduations. Weddings are still a bigger deal, as they are for basically the whole world, but we do a pretty good job honoring graduations as the once-in-a-lifetime milestones and truly admirable achievements that they are. After all, any idiot can get married. Not everyone can complete a degree.

Open Letter

Dear Econ Grad Student With Whom I Went On Two Really Awkward Dates About a Million Years Ago,

I'm very flattered that you still remember me and my name, because, quite frankly, I would not have recognized you had you sat next to me at the bar. And it's very cool of you to come up and talk to me, however briefly. That's way cooler than the friggin' owner of the bar, whom I had also dated about half a million years ago, who likes to pretend that he doesn't know me, even though I've patronized his establishment regularly for the past 8 years. Thank you, too, for offering to buy me a drink. Had I not already been drinking for much of the night, I would have accepted the offer.

But my saying, "Thanks, but I've already had a few beers tonight" doesn't necessarily mean that you need to cut the conversation short and just scamper off. You could have said, "How about I get you a Coke, then?" Or just continued chatting with me while I sipped at my glass of water. You could reciprocate my question of, "So, have you finished your degree?" with that very same question. Instead, you chose to randomly tell me that you spent some time in China (Was I supposed to be impressed by that fact? Because I'm Chinese and you're white?), and then ended the conversation without asking me what I've been up to. The fact that you then ran away with your tail between your legs only reminds me of why each of our two dates was really friggin' awkward, and why I was relieved when you didn't come around asking for a third.

What is up with dudes like you and the complete lack of follow-through? If you want to talk to me, just talk to me. If you want to buy me a drink, go ahead and do so. If you want to ask me out, just ask. Unless you're a major creeper (like the dude who introduced himself to me by saying, "I'm a pharmacist; What type of birth control are you on?"), I generally won't bite your head off or give you the cold shoulder. I will be my usual friendly, conversational self, as I believe I was with you tonight. I may decline your offer should you ask me out, but that's a risk that we all take, right? Grow some huevos and just take it.

I suppose it doesn't really matter that you totally punked out, given that I had already decided a million years ago that I didn't want to date you or even be friends. But you just reminded me of why I find meeting people so frustratingly exhausting. I cannot tell you how many times I've encountered guys who would initiate and then suddenly veer off course. I used to think that there must have been something wrong with me, that I was suddenly off-putting, that I smelled bad and didn't know it, that I was like that woman from that one episode of Seinfeld who suddenly looked ugly in a shift of lighting. But now, I really don't think that's the case. I'm fucking charming. And always polite. I have impeccable hygiene. So I have to assume that when guys who talk to me run away as if I were the plague, there's something wrong with them.

And you know, I'd might as well apply that assumption to men whom I actually do end up dating. Because the follow-through is key there as well. I've been dumped by a guy who decided after one year into our relationship that he "wasn't sure" if he was ever in love with me. I've been dumped by a guy who acted as though he couldn't get enough of me and then never talked to me again, not even to say "Thanks" when I sent him an email wishing him a happy birthday. I don't walk into every relationship believing that it will end in "happily ever after," but I do think that people should own their choices and actions. When I say that I want a follow-through, I mean that I simply don't want a relationship to end with a "WTF?" It is possible to break up with someone without making them feel as though the whole relationship was a lie. And it is possible, and even comforting, to convey to someone that you care about them even after the relationship is over. Certainly, taking off like a bat out of hell may seem to be the less messy of alternatives. But it also makes you a spastic asshole.

But I digress. What I meant to say was simply this: Thank you for validating my M.O., which is to no longer suffer wishy-washy boys kindly. I want and deserve a man who knows what he wants, and who knows that he wants me.

Best,

Me

The Real Estate Pain-in-the-Ass That Nobody's Telling You About

Let me just start with a disclaimer: I just became a homeowner with a whole lot of help from my parents, and I am in no way an expert on the ins and outs of buying a home. I'm just speaking as someone who has witnessed the buying and selling side of real estate this year, and who has come into contact with a little pain in the ass thing we'll just call the "10% rule."

With any home loan you apply for, the federal government (via Fannie Mae or Freddie Mac) has to back up the bank. I guess that's what it means for your loan to be FHA approved. As of about two years ago, the federal government has instituted a rule saying that it will not back up any loan that will be used to finance the purchase of a condo in which one owner owns more than 10% of the complex. As a result, banks generally won't bother issuing loans that will be used to finance the purchase of a condo in which one owner owns more than 10% of the complex.

This rule was put in place in response to the housing crisis. It makes sense in the context of giant establishments (say, hotels) in which one big investor may own a good chunk of the building. Say that investor owns 50% of the building-- If that investor goes bankrupt for whatever reason, the rest of the investors in that building would also get screwed. And so do the banks. So this 10% rule is meant to protect "little" owners, I suppose. It makes it difficult for any one body to own too much of one complex, balances out the distribution of ownership and power, and allows the banks to also protect their assets.

But even the most well-intentioned rules cannot be universally applied. This rule has been quite the pain in the ass for "little" people like my family. For a while now, my dad has been helping my greataunt, who is elderly and senile, with her estate. Seeing that she was running out of money, my dad applied on her behalf for a reverse mortgage. For some reason, this 10% rule came into the picture, and the banks denied her application, precisely because one owner in her complex owned more than 10% of the units. (This is also the fault of her homeowner's association, who didn't step in to prevent this one owner from purchasing that many units.) I don't understand why this 10% rule should apply to reverse mortgages. Seems like an exception should be made, especially for someone in my greataunt's situation. After all, what good is a house you've invested in your entire life if you can't live off of what it's worth once you're too old to support yourself?

My greataunt was not only running out of money, but she was also running out of the mental capabilities of taking care of herself. In order to facilitate her move into an assisted living establishment, my dad had to help her sell her condo. Sure enough, the 10% rule became a huge obstacle. No potential buyer would have been able to get a bank to approve a loan in order to finance the purchase. We were seriously worried that my greataunt would be stuck with this condo as her finances kept draining.

Miraculously, we did get a buyer who was able to pay in cash. So we were able to sell my greataunt's condo, and now she hopefully has enough cash to live on for the rest of her life. But had that buyer never come along, my greataunt would be in dire straits. And even though things worked out in the end, this 10% rule probably cost her tens of thousands of dollars. Given our desperate situation, we had to sell the place at a lower price than we could have had we been open to buyers who could get their loans approved.

This 10% rule continued to be a pain in the ass for my family when we went out to Cambridge to hunt for my condo. The first place we were interested in was one unit of seven, in a building owned by a developer who was selling each unit one buy one. The developer still owned five of the units, so, of course, he owned more than 10% of the units. We were told right away from the New England Moves, the mortgage company affiliated with Coldwell Banker, that they would not be able to finance this purchase. A local lender, East Cambridge Bank, would have been able to, but at a slightly higher interest rate. We did make an offer on that unit, but with some reservations. Even if I could secure the purchase with a loan from East Cambridge Bank, what will happen a few years down the road, when I want to sell the place? If the developer still owned more than 10% of the units, would I have trouble selling the place because no buyer could get a loan? Not willing to risk this, we made a low-ball offer (figuring that we'd get a counter-offer, and thus wouldn't be tied to the contract), and went looking for other units. Luckily, we ended up finding one that we liked even better and in building where this 10% rule wouldn't be a problem. But in the end we couldn't ignore the fact that this rule was affecting our lives at many junctures.

What's truly upsetting is the fact that no one seems to be upset or bothered by this 10% rule. The sellers I've come across during my real estate hunt completely dismiss it. And the morons in my greataunt's homeowner's association totally whitewash the problems the rule causes, in spite of the fact that not one of them will be able to sell their properties. You'd think there would be some amount of public outrage, at least enough for the federal government and the banks to tweak the rule, add an addendum or exception here and there, so that it doesn't end up screwing over average folks who need to meet simple goals like buying a home or selling it, in order to secure their futures. This rule is not helping or protecting people like me or my greataunt. On the contrary, it's only helping super rich people who could buy real estate in cash and bypass the banks entirely. Or, it's helping mafioso banks that are willing to issue unconventional loans at high interest rates. The 10% rule is a good idea gone very, very bad.

Well, maybe my little anecdote here can help spark some conversation at least.