He's Just a Little Boy or Pearl Jam Scares Me

I made my son cry today. He's emotional and melodramatic -- which is to say that he's too much like me.

I'm afraid to go to a psychiatrist because I feel like if I ever told anyone other than God and Jessica about what goes through my brain that the shrink would be legally obligated to haul me off to jail.

Somehow, Jessica seems to love me without reservation which is also to say that she must suffer from some kind of neurosis as well.

Now, I'm afraid that Zeke has caught my disease. I know this is not an uncommon theme -- dad hates himself, dad sees his own imperfections in son, dad puts undue pressure on son to be perfect.

For example, I'm terrible at sports. I enjoy playing, I enjoy watching, I just stink at it. My parents never wanted me to play anything other than tennis so I never really learned how to throw a football well and I never really figured out how to dribble a basketball without tripping over myself. It's too easy to imagine how much that sucked growing up -- consistently being picked last during team sports is a terrible feeling.

So now, I push Zeke into sports. And, like good 'ol dad, he's more inclined to stay home and watch movies or play video games. It frustrates me. He senses my frustration and becomes upset. Seeing him upset, makes me feel guilty. To get rid of the guilt, I blame it on Jessica. Jessica gets angry and then she kicks the dog.

That last part's not true. We ate the dog years ago like a good American/Vietnamese family.

I fear that in my quest to help my son learn how to be a man that I'll somehow unintentionally break him. I'm reminded of the song "Jeremy" by Pearl Jam. The daunting base-line that begins the song and permeates the rhythm does a great job of conveying danger and caution.



Anyhow, that story about sports is just one example of how I've unintentionally made him overtly scared of me. Don't get me wrong, he runs, and smiles, and jumps, and plays, and goofs, and is an all-around happy kid -- except when I say or do anything remotely negative sounding. No matter how much I try to hide it, he can sense when I'm displeased. I know this because this is how I made him cry, and we're not even on the same continent. Heck, we're not even in the same hemisphere.

I FaceTime'd the family from Djibouti, Africa where I'm currently serving with the military. I spoke to each of the kids individually and I had an especially fun time FaceTiming with Zeke. He passed the iPad over to his mom. We were in the middle of a conversation when suddenly Jessica chastised Zeke, who was off-screen, for chucking a five pound weight roughly on the floor. Zeke came onto the screen and all it took was him seeing me furrow my brow and the sound of my voice sternly saying his name for him to run away crying to the bathroom.

He's so much like me and I can't stand it. He can probably sense that too. I remember being his age and being criticized by my strict Viet Nam war refugee parents. It felt terrible. They taught me to always put on my brave face, which I did, but I remember being in a state of constant turmoil, always doubting whether I was good enough in their eyes. Now, I fear I'm shackling this on to Zeke.

Jessica would say that this entire post is silly and unnecessary and that the only thing I suffer from is overthinking/overanalyzing the issue. And, she's probably right. I was talking to Jessica on the phone a couple of hours after the incident and Zeke asked to talk to me. I took the opportunity to apologize for sounding overly stern. To my surprise, he was completely over it and really just wanted to tell me a "knock-knock joke." We had a good laugh and he told me he loved me. He was fine, he had forgiven me.

Either that or he was just doing what I used to do as a kid, and buried his sadness to make me happy. I forget sometimes that he's just a little boy.



The Fray are relevant here. One of their hit songs is called, "How to Save a Life." I looked on Wikipedia and here's an explanation of the song:

"According to lead singer, pianist and songwriter Isaac Slade, the song was composed and influenced by his experience while working as a mentor at a camp for troubled teens:

“

One of the youngsters I was paired up with was a musician. Here I was, a protected suburbanite, and he was just 17 and had all these problems. And no one could write a manual on how to save him.

”

Slade claims that the song is about all of the people that tried to reach out to the boy but were unsuccessful. As Slade says in an interview, the boy's friends and family approached him by saying, "Quit taking drugs and cutting yourself or I won't talk to you again," but all he needed was some support. The boy was losing friends and going through depression. He lost his best friend and could not deal with it. The verses of the song describe an attempt by an adult to confront a troubled teen. In the chorus, the singer laments that he himself was unable to save a friend because he did not know how."

I want my son to have standards. I want to prepare him to face a tough world. But I also want him to be full of charity and to recognize the beauty that exists in life. I want him to be spirited and full of zest. I don't know how to do these things and it scares me. I'll probably just do what I always do -- ask Jessica.

Someone to Watch Over Me or How Jess Made Me Cry

Jessica made me a mixtape for Valentine's Day. The CD ended with a song I hadn't heard before and sure enough it was the one that got me all choked-up.



Self-loathing is a part of the human experience and you can trust me when I say that no one despises me more than me. So, immediately, when I heard the chorus, tears started swelling-up as I realized how vulnerable I am to Jess. And, it's a great thing to feel safely powerless to someone you love.

That's the succinct beauty of this song. It sets plainly the universal truth that when someone loves you, they take you the way you are. That's not to say that I've just completely let myself go and have resorted to my worst-self. No, she makes me want to be my best, but I'm also not scared of her seeing me at my most basic. She takes me the way I am.

The song feels like a natural companion to Gershwin's "Someone to Watch Over Me."

"There's a somebody I'm longin' to see
I hope that (s)he, turns out to be
Someone who'll watch over me

I'm a little lamb who's lost in the wood
I know I could, always be good
To one who'll watch over me"

"An Old Fashioned Love Song" or "Everyone cries when Beth dies"

I've been in the real Army for under four years and I've admittedly grown a rougher exterior. I'm less forgiving and I'm more exact. One of the Non-commissioned Officers I used to work with had this cadence he would call that went, "I'm mentally tough and I'm physically fit! If you ain't Charlie you ain't SH*T!" I always felt like this was what I was striving for as a Soldier. Being mentally tough and physically fit will get you through some of the toughest times in the Army.

At the end of the day though, I'm an emotional sap. As much as I like to pretend that I'm some tough Army dude, the truth is that I still tear up every time Beth is about to die in Little Women. Anyone who doesn't is probably a liar or a psychopath.

The same goes for cliche love songs. I can't get enough of them. I know they're completely formulaic, I know they're written by factories full of monkeys, I know that there's no longer any such thing as an original love song -- it doesn't matter to me. I drink 'em up. They're my emotional kryptonite.

So, here are three love songs that are currently stuck in my brain. I'm going to go ahead and be a coward and say they're not necessarily my favorite or "best," only that they make me feel like a fitful, angsty, teenager when I listen to them:




This is Vanessa Williams signature song which debuted in 1992. I was 10 years-old then and I remember my sisters listening to it all the time. Supposedly, the song wasn't written for Vanessa Williams originally, but it eventually landed with her. I really can't imagine anyone else singing it.




I was only four-years-old when this song was featured at the end of Pretty in Pink. I remember my brother, Huy, was head-over-heels for this one girl when he was 16. He put this on a mixtape he made for her. And, it was one of my go-to songs for when I was rejected by someone I had a crush on. Although, I suppose "reject" is a bit strong considering I never really garnered the courage to tell anyone I liked them.




I have this joke with Jessica (it's really only funny to me) that she's going to leave. I look at her with a serious face and with a morose tone I say, "Are you going to divorce me?" This infuriates her. It makes me chuckle. Since I've been in Africa and away from Jess, I honestly feel like I've been holding my breath.

These kinds of songs are what redeems pop music. They are unashamedly cliche, but somehow they express the intangible parts of being human better than anything else. When I was in high school, I remember listening to these dumb songs, thinking about my crush-of-the-week, and feeling uncontrollable angst. It was fantastic.

In many ways, listening to stupid love songs causes a cathartic release for me where I can go out and be well again. Some people lift weights, others over-eat, I listen to Coldplay's "Yellow."

Oh, yeah, and Three Dog Night.

No Such Thing, or, How I met Dave Nguyen and John Mayer

I met Dave my freshman year in high school and I was introduced to John Mayer's music by Dave. I'm still interested in one of those people and it's not John Mayer.

There's something just not good about John Mayer and I can't tell you exactly what it is about him that annoys me. It might be that thin disgusting mustache he wears. I can't stop looking at it, it always looks like his lip is dirty and I always feel like using my fist to remove it.

It might also be that his music is annoyingly catchy. It's not good is the thing, it's actually pretty terrible. It's predictable, it's boring, it's undaring, and a lot of times it just feels pretentious. His music, it just gives me this constant vibe of, "I'm better than you." But it's catchy, and he's not a horrible singer. Sometimes, his songs actually mean something.

Anyhow, I met Dave my freshman year in high school. I can't remember what class we had together. I just remember that we were seated in alphabetical order by last name so we sat right near to each other because we were both "Nguyen's."

Like John Mayer, Dave totally snubbed me. It was the first day of class and he was talking to this kid named Tri Bui. I don't remember what they were talking about but I tried to join the conversation. Without introducing myself, I just kinda interjected myself into the mix.

They both just looked at me like I had a booger on my forehead. Dave sat behind me so I just slowly turned back around and pretended like nothing happened.

I remember it distinctly because Dave is such a loyal friend. And, once you're in his inner-circle, you're set. It didn't take too long for Dave and I to become friends. We had a lot in common: tennis, Star Wars, technology, choir, pop music, movies.

We made a lot of memories together -- most of them while skipping school. 

You might be wondering what the hell John Mayer has to do with this post. Nothing really except that every time I hear the song, "No Such Thing," I think of Dave. In 2002, it was John Mayer's debut single and the chorus goes, "I wanna run through the halls of my high school, I wanna scream at the top of my lungs." I remember Dave was listening to that song over and over. In a way, I imagine it became a kind of anthem for him. I don't know, we've never talked about it. I just know that later that year, I left to serve a mission for my church, and a little bit after that, Dave moved his life to California.

When I came back two years later, he seemed happier. And, it wasn't as though I thought he was miserable, only that maybe he seemed more grounded and steady in life. He seemed less angsty and more "Zen." The last line of the chorus goes, "I just found out there's no such thing as the real world, just a lie you've got to rise above." Maybe by moving to California Dave was able to "rise above." I don't know, I just know I'm proud he's my friend.

Over the years, like so many other relationships, we've grown ever so slightly apart, but that was inevitable. We went from hanging out nearly every day to living half-a-world apart. When we get back together though, it's never uncomfortable for me. He has this humor about him that makes it so that it's easy to pick up where we left off. And, somehow, it's even meaningful. He can get to the heart of a friendship without making it seem rote. He can ask all of the normal, boring, catch-up questions like, "How have you been doing," and, "How's the family," and you'll want to answer sincerely. He's not asking just to ask, he's asking because he cares.  It's amazing to me.

I'm alone in Africa and I have too much time to think and reflect. My immediate thought is that I don't call him enough. I don't make enough of an effort. My second thought is that I'm really, very glad and happy he's a friend and that I'm going to make sure to go out of my way to catch-up with him when I get back to the U.S.

Right, so yeah, otherwise, John Mayer sucks.

Dan in Real Life or Baby, I Love Your Way

Nick Hornby made it pretty clear in High Fidelity that it's not cool to like the song "Baby, I Love Your Way." If you listen to the lyrics, it's nonsensical. It's not a ballad and there's not a story-line to the song. The guitar riff is popular because it's catchy and relatively easy to play, but, among pop aficionados, it's uninspired.

The thing is, I love it, which is to say that I'm exactly like 98 percent of the population.

That chorus line gets me every time. Anybody who's ever been in love knows what it means to "Love [someone's] way." It's intangible. It's that unknown element that never ceases to surprise. It's each and every indescribable piece of your lover that somehow makes them irresistible. And, though indescribable, you can probably break them down into the lovably mundane.

Like Jess' freckles. They just floor me. I can't get enough of them. Or, how she won't sleep without socks on. And, how she will give one cute little sneeze at the end of any chocolate eating session. She'll eat an entire bowl of chocolate ice-cream and only give one little sneeze when she's finished; she'll do the same thing even if it's just one itty-bitty Andes Mint. It drives me nuts, but I love it.



Billy puts it another way: "She's got a way about her. I don't know what it is, but there doesn't have to be a reason anyway." Because, and for me this is the rub, "reasons" aren't enough to give yourself over to someone. They're important, but alone, they're not enough. It's the many little inexpressable somethings that kind of work as the emotional glue for all of the reasons why you're with someone. It's the way they wink, or the unique warmth of their hug -- it's that something that nobody else but you sees.

This isn't to be confused with teenage angst like in this clip from Dan in Real Life:



Dan can't be more right. For every one of the reasons you can find to love someone, you can probably find just as many reasons to not love them. "Love is an ability," he says. That teenage ball of emotions that his daughter portrays is a part of it too, but it's a small part, and it's unsustainable.

I don't know how to end this post. I'll probably come back later and change it. I miss Jess and her freckles. I mean, they're totally hoppin' and they just drive me up the wall.

Pitch Perfect: Who's Rihanna? Or, "How I'm going to give Miley Cyrus a chance."

First, is it okay that I really like the movie Pitch Perfect? I'm uncertain as to what the nonsensical male gender stereotypes allow these days.

So yeah, I'm watching Pitch Perfect and I'm like:

"Wow the covers of these songs are really good."

"I wonder who sings this?"

"Why have I never heard these songs or people?"

Like any good child of the information age, I took to Google to figure out the original singers of some of these songs. Here's what I found out about some of the songs:

1. "Don't Stop The Music" - Rihanna 2007.
2. "Party In The USA" - Miley Cyrus 2009.
3. "Titanium" - David Guetta ft. Sia 2011.
4. "Since U Been Gone" - Kelly Clarkson 2004.
5. "Keep Your Head Up" - Andy Grammer 2011.

As I saw the results, I looked-up from my computer and I'm like, "Oh my gosh, is this okay?" Basically, I'm feeling shame that I just watched a movie where I enjoyed the cover of a song originally performed by Miley Cyrus. At the same time I'm thinking, "Isn't Rihanna the girl who got the crap beat out of her by Chris Brown (I still don't know who Chris Brown is or why he's famous.)" 

Other than what I read on TMZ (Yes. I'm a self-proclaimed celebrity gossip whore. It's better than fiction), I don't know anything concerning the music of Miley Cyrus, Rihanna, or Kelly Clarkson -- only that I feel like I'm not supposed to like them. In fact, I'm pretty sure if the song was written and performed within the last decade I'll probably dismiss the song entirely as too trendy, or just simply label it as "garbage."

I'm also hopelessly stuck in the 80s. If it came down to a knife fight between 80s Madonna and millenium Madonna, 80s Madonna is going to be convicted for first-degree murder.

My actual knowledge of pop music actually drops off after 1997. Anyt songs I know after that year is incidental from movie watching and visiting friends who are much cooler than me (That's pretty much all of them.)

I'm starting to see, more and more, that I'm an unqualified elitist. What's there to get snobbish about when it comes to pop music? After all, it's intentionally two-dimensional and superficial -- that's what makes it so much fun. 99 percent of pop music wasn't made to change the musical world, it was made to get your toe tapping and your rump shaking.

So, yes, I'm going to give Miley Cyrus a chance. But not Maroon 5. No. Never again. They're terrible.

Don't Let me Down

This is one of the sexiest concerts in the history of music. When people think of The Beatles, they often think of "Yellow Submarine" or "Help!" It's really too bad because they really went on to make some meaningful stuff. The video linked to below is from the Beatle's famed Rooftop Concert which you can read about here.

My favorite song from the concert is called "Don't Let Me Down."  It's soulful, it's gritty, and its chorus, "Don't Let Me Down" hits at the core of what motivates me as a friend: loyalty. Ironically, unknown to John, Paul, George, and Ringo -- this will have been their last public performance together as a complete band.

Listen to the song. It's worth it.