Instead of Another Bad Romance, I Need a Rad Bromance

Having survived the warfare of love, and convalesced in the hospice of taking care of myself, I believe I have arrived at some new insights. Not only have I been looking for love in all the wrong places; I would have done better not to look for love at all, at least not in the traditional sense. I don't need a romance—I need a bromance.


I need someone to go shopping with, to help me figure out which home improvements to make, to hang out at the bar with, and most of all to go to soccer and lacrosse matches with (heck, I'd even go to see hockey and basketball games, as a trade off). A pal, a bud, a dude to chill with. He could be gay, bi or straight—it wouldn't matter because sex would not be a factor.* As long as he is a decent, stand-up guy, and we can get along, I think it would be fun.


And fun is the key. True, I want friends in my life to help me carry the burdens of living—the horrors of the daily grind, the heartaches of loss, etc. But I strongly suspect that the persons best suited to help carry the burdens are also the ones who most adeptly help one lighten the loads by lightening up. Relationships should be fun.


So I'm going forward looking for good friends, people worthy of investing time away from myself alone. I know they are out there. I just haven't had my eyes sighted correctly.

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*Years of singleness and a handful of atrocious hook-ups have taught me to be sexually self-contained.

I Am an Empath - Empathy Is Almost Completely Useless

Among people who have known me for a while, I present a quandary: how can such a “nice guy” be such a jerk sometimes? I think I have an explanation. Please bear with me (or not, and navigate away from this page).

I am an empath. This makes me next to useless in dealing with human problems. Next to, but not completely. Let me explain. When a person is in pain, physical or psychological, what she or he really wants is sympathy and understanding. With sympathy and understanding, the person gets heard, and if needed, has solutions offered (or at least methods of dealing with the pain if it cannot be eliminated). Sympathy leads to aid.

Empathy does not. Empathy is identification with the pain. A sympathetic person knows what pain feels like, but is at a remove from it, and therefore can offer an ear, a word of advice, etc. In empathy, however, the pain is felt. And if the pain is debilitating to the original feeler, it can be likewise debilitating to the empath. When I hear of physical or psychological pain, I feel it. I then have the choice either to allow the feelings to continue (and therefore eat up an hour or a day), or shut them out entirely and move on.

Being with others, and being with their pain wipes me out. It renders me either useless, or cold. Since I prefer functionality most of the time, I come across as cold and distant.

Of course, at times being cold and distant are very useful, as in crisis management. I can distance myself enough (at times) to coolly figure out what needs to happen next. This can be very helpful. Dr. House is an ass, but if I had a medical mystery going on, unlike my mother I’d want someone like him on the case. A rational distance is much more helpful than a sloppy closeness.

My 2010 in Books, Part 4 (Honorable Mentions)

The Yoga Sutras of Patañjali: A New Edition, Translation and Commentary, by Edwin F. Bryant. If you have any curiosity about Indian philosophy, I highly recommend this book. Bryant surveyed all the commentaries on Patañjali, including not only various Hindu schools, but also Buddhist and Muslim commentaries, and incorporated the material in this comprehensive volume. Highly recommended.

Personal Memoirs, by Ulysses S. Grant. I read this book out of a curiosity raised by frequent reading in Ta-Nehisi Coates's blog on Atlantic.com. A must for those interested in US history or the US Civil War.

Turtle Feet: The Making and Unmaking of a Buddhist Monk, by Nikolia Grozni. My new all-time favorite "spiritual" memoir, Grozni's slow awakening to the pretensions and underlying reality of spiritual pursuits in the Himalyas is funny and rich.

My 2010 in Books, Part 3 (Books That Affected My Life)

Flow, by Mihaly Csikszentmihalyi. This book spells out the keys to a 'flow'mentality, at work and at play. Essential reading.

Think for Yourself!: An Essay on Cutting through the Babble, the Bias, and the Hype, by Steve Hindes. An essential book on critical thinking. It helped me to rethink my beliefs (or lack thereof).

The End of Overeating, by David A. Kessler, MD. By looking at the reasons behind current US obesity trends, Kessler is able to make solid recommendations for individuals trying to fight the overeating habit.

My 2010 in Books, Part 2 (Non-Fiction)

Born to Run, by Christopher McDougall. In trying to discover why a tribe of sandalled indigenous Mexicans happen to be the greatest long-distance runners on the planet, McDougall also uncovers the problems with the modern running shoe, how our ancient ancestors ran down their food, and some things that bring simple joy to living. Also, he tells a really good story.

Losing My Cool, by Thomas Chatterton Williams. Williams immersed himself in the middle-class black approximation of thug life hiphoppery in his middle school and high school years, but soon learned it was a dead end. His father's relentless influence, and his father's huge library, led Williams back to a love of learning. This is perhaps the best memoir since Lac Su's I Love Yous Are for White People.

The Gun, by C. J. Chivers. An excellent history of automatic weapons, and in particular the AK-47. Chivers explains how this weapon, more than any other, including the Bomb, has changed the face of our world.

My 2010 in Books, Part 1 (Fiction)

Ghost Radio, by Leopoldo Gout. A creepy, atmospheric ghost story, steeped in a middle-class urban Mexican-American milieu. In some ways, this novel is as much a meditation on music, noise and teen rebellion as it is on meaning in life, and on what haunts us.

Let Me In, by John Ajvide Lindqvist. By far the best vampire novel I read this year (I read five). It starts out creepy, and the horror just grows. What's more, to the very end I remained conflicted about the role and survival of the original vampire. The plot twists add to the tale.

Secret Identities, edited by Jeff Yang, Parry Shen, Keith Chow and Jerry Ma. A seminal collection of Asian-American superhero comics. Fun, enlightening, and well crafted. If you love comics, you really ought to have this book.

3 Secrets about Me

Three secrets about me:

1) Sometimes I get very, very frustrated that parts of my body ache and/or refuse to work right, usually because of age;

2) I miss cuddling more than sex; and

3) I still want to start an "old school" gay family, i.e., the kind in which all the members, who cross the generations are recruited into it.