What’s your issue?

Hi, nice to meet you. So... what’s your issue?" There’s something taking the place of polite conversation on politics, showbiz gossip, travel, and shopping finds these days. Blame it on Jerry Springer or Kris Aquino, but there’s nothing more fashionable, more riveting, more satisfying, than untrammeled discussion on one’s personal issues.

Issue defined as: hang-up, or chip on your shoulder, or thumb up your ass, or your excess baggage.

High on the list is the obsessive compulsive, or OC, the ones who go nuts in the shower when they see that their shampoo isn’t on the same level as the conditioner. Many times these control freaks are the death of the party for their proclivity to fluff the throw pillows while guests are still sitting on them, re-wash their wine glasses when they detect detergent spots, or arrange the CDs in alphabetical order to the consternation of the DJ. My aunt, for one, is an OC of the highest order – her sofa slipcovers actually have slipcovers.

There is also the manic depressive, the ones who write the best poems and still listen to grunge. We also know of the passive aggressive, the ones who write the best love letters and still listen to glam rock. Many combinations can be made from the OC, MD and PA; I, for example, am an obsessive depressive, which means that I fixate and daydream about my deepest desires, do nothing to consummate them, and then get depressed when they do not come to fruition.

Amazingly, when these issues are raised at dinner parties, soirees, and beer chugging sessions nowadays it almost becomes a pissing contest with a big fat 24k Medal of Pity as an award. I’ve heard people blame their issues on everyone from unfeeling dad, workaholic mom, cheating girlfriend or evil yaya. There are even those who point their fingers at fictitious characters like Oscar the Grouch and Megatron (yes, of the Transformers).

But things take on an even more absurd turn when issues are manifested in strange fetishes: obsession with red toenails because they remind him of his first grade teacher, aversion to the scent of vanilla because she once ate rotten leche flan, addiction to patis because it smells like the factory across her childhood home.

See, everyone has issues, everyone is dysfunctional, everyone is a Royal Tenenbaum. Unless you were raised by Mary Poppins in an Amish community, it is highly unlikely for anyone to go through the pain of high school and the ennui of an early career without a single hang-up. Often, issues can be two sides of the same coin: for instance, there are those who are insecure because they never had enough money, and there are those who are paranoid because they grew up with too much money. The former are likely to impress romantic prospects with fancy dinners and a flashy car while the latter tend to write up prenuptial agreements on the first date. Money or no, both are considered manifestations of serious ISSUES.

So is there any escape from issues? No, I’m afraid not. But what matters is how you hurdle your own issues, and whether you’ve emerged as a stronger and wiser human being thereafter. It’s what builds character, it’s what makes up experience. That’s why teens should be busy creating their own issues, twentysomethings showing off those issues, thirtysomethings dealing with them, and midlifers finally getting over them. When it’s all over, your obituary should then indicate the specific issues you had to conquer in your life journey.

But there’s more. I really think that issues are there for a reason because of what they make people do to one another. All personal issues, I must say, are social issues. They are there, I believe, to test one’s compassion or apathy or cruelty towards other people. Hard as it is to watch your friend deal with the stick up his arse, it is even a greater test to see how you deal with your friend as he does so. Austin Powers’ dad(played by Michael Caine) sardonically said to his son, "Here’s a tissue for your issue." This is interchangeable with "Here’s some dip for that chip (on your shoulder)." You can go the way of tough love or coddle canoodling, but the questions that need to be addressed are really about: Are you kinder? Do you try to understand him? Can you accept him? Do you truly love him? Or do you enjoy his misery because it makes you feel better about yourself?

It’s what I call my Amelie Theory of Getting Acquainted. When I meet people, I try to get to know them without making judgments on who or what they are – e.g., whether they’re smart or stupid, nice or naughty, classy or jologs, funny or cheesy. Rather, I make mental notes of the little details they choose to reveal about themselves – e.g. he likes cauliflower over carrots, she detests Gwyneth Paltrow, her favorite TV show was MacGyver, he washes his hands 30 times a day, she once lived in Outer Mongolia, etc. And then I look closely at the issues they choose to brag, cry and yell about, the issues they are now struggling to overcome. This way, I can actually love a person despite all his faults. This way, I cherish a person because of all his faults.

And then they are no longer faults, or issues or hang-ups. They’re simply quirks –the very things that make a person fascinating, unique, and a blast to hang out with. These quirks, after all, are what make life worth living; overcoming them is what makes a person lovable; and ultimately, understanding them, and appreciating them, is what makes my love truly unconditional.

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Share your issue with me at star_polanox@yahoo.com.