Recently graduated and now I have no idea what I'm gonna do Blog Post that goes on and on and on and on. Wow Long title!

Rushed the last thirty seconds of my after-midnight shower to write this blog. The shower and the toilet bowl are two places of rumination. Charged ideas come to me as I wash my body of daily regrets and mistakes. I felt an obligation to write this entry and get sh*t off my chest (ew).

I wasted my Labor Day. I did nothing but wander the city, again, for the sixth day in a row. I would hit up Time Square in order to flirt with absent-minded tourists and Union Square to befriend an open-minded and politically-aware nerd. I wanted to go to The Strand again and surreptitiously peek at what people are reading. I did venture to Barnes and Noble where I felt cameras were on me. Staff and security would notice me chatting up women holding fiction novels. I also felt an itch to jog earlier this morning, but I let myself down. I keep telling myself I would join Nelson or Tony for a morning jog, but I have not arranged that yet. I remember jogging with Samantha and Carol two years ago down the West Side Highway and I loved the release of endorphins. How I lack the willpower to do anything in my life but be a vagabond, astray, washed away in my own world. I went to Empire Hotel Rooftop for a Meetup event, but I left in five minutes because I felt ashamed and shy. Everyone there was sitting with a friend and seemed higher class than I was part of. I felt alienated. But seeing Terresa fifteen minutes before made my day because I haven't seen her in forever. I want to start my own public relations firm in which I hire Terresa and Qian to be my main co-organizers; we would be right-hand publicists who manage young talent in NYC.

I feign self-importance. My wardrobe is all about self-indulgence and self-correctness. Immediately the song "You're So Vain" by Carly Simon fills my head. You probably think this blog entry is about you...(I'm) so vain... I pass store windows and turn my head just to catch my reflection. I admire myself in the train doors when flying through tunnels. I spend half an hour preening. Five years ago my mother dressed me and took me to Gap. It wasn't until I walked into J.Crew 5th Ave that I noticed plaid shirts and indigo sweaters. After that I climbed the price ladder and naively equated price with quality. In middle school and high school all I wore was Hollister, Gap, Old Navy, and Sears clothing. Donna can attest to the "Asian gangster" phase in which Asian entourages wore Hollister and Northface all the time. Then I switched to "men's boutique" brands that prided themselves in "artisanal" products and "made local" wear AKA made in a local sweatshop employing immigrants you may have seen in your neighborhood, maybe even the ones sweating under Elmo and Dora costumes in Times Square. My briefcase epitomizes self-importance. It means business, even though I don't have a career right now. I flaunt it everywhere I go just to be ostentatious and "yee gnun gee mook," which my mom says. It means provoking others. My mom desperately wants me to "ai jung fah" meaning to conform and wear what other people wear. I obviously go against that notion 100% because I'm a self-proclaimed defiant of social conventions. If I still lived in Bensonhurst I would not walk the streets with a briefcase and J.Crew suit; I would still be wearing loose tee shirts and low-riding jeans. I swapped handball courts for retail stores galore. If it was up to me, I would not wear designer shit; I would renounce sweatshop-manufactured clothing entirely. But shoes are a must because feet are important!!

 At home I take my parents for granted. It's like I travel the city without any thoughts about my parents. I rarely have consideration for them until I say good night to Mom and Dad at midnight. I don't even sit with my parents on the sofa to watch the news like I did when I was much younger. My Dad thinks that I have grown resistant to his advice. I have grown tired and disillusioned by his droning advice. His lectures would spin into hourly attacks against my character and my empty future. "Mo cheen too, nee ga future fay jaw lah." This means You have no future, your future is tarnished already. My Mom dissuades me from busking in the subway because she fears that future employers will recognize me and not hire me for a legitimate job. She even paid me not to go perform in the subway. But busking is my only freedom, my only way to make money and love what I do. I take my parents for granted mostly because I have been pampered by them. They do everything for me, so I don't have to. I have overlooked this a thousand percent. I rarely help my mom shop and my dad care for his health. I pushed my parents to the side and treat them as perpetual roommates to share sympathies with. I hope I can rekindle with my folks.

Penn Station. I saw Hein the other night as he waited for his girlfriend. His situation reminded me of her. I had just walked down the stairs and observed track 20. An LIRR train had just pulled out of the station leaving me alone on the platform. I scurry upstairs and pass a popcorn vendor. I died to get a bag of popcorn. I remember that late evening when we shared a bag of popcorn and I cried for the very first time on her shoulders...she reminded me of our very first moments together and she reinforced them in my memory. We both cried in each other's arms and our hug became a knitting. I don't know why I see Penn Station this way, but I do miss picking her up and looking at the monitor for the track number she will arrive on. I would help her carry her heavy luggage and remind myself that distance is nothing to worry about. But distance IS towering, it is indefatigable. I even walked to Battery Park last week to reminisce, to find our shadows, our sunsets, our harped bodies in resonance with one another's. I even scheduled a meetup with Donna to try Takahachi bakery next Sunday, just to be in her area. I wonder what's she up to now.

I may be that type of person that claims fame for others' success. I may take credit for other people's upward climb. I always refer to Pam as my duetress and Jenn as my singstress. These titles are premium labels of control, appropriation, and subdued appreciation. To introduce Pam as my duetress is to own her voice, talent, being. This does not do her justice at all. Just like a publicist praises himself over his author whom he groomed for years until this award. But I believe that if I can't succeed myself, I would succeed in the shadow of others. Selfish or meta-selfish? You decide.

During my crisis and desperate attempts to breathe last week (pardon my embellishment and hyperbolizing here), I extend my gratitude to Mia, Timothy, Tony, Nelson, Joe, Bryan, and Pam. I'm so grateful to have caring friends. Currently I am anticipating meeting up with Joe to rekindle over Viet noodles or bubble tea in Bay Parkway. Then I would fly to Arizona to see Jamie. Sometimes I wonder whether or not my life would be sunnier had I moved to Arizona with her, but that would turn my world upside down. But I need it though---I DID ask for a change of scenery a few months ago. Dare to get lost, that's what Linh told me four months ago at Hunter. She literally said to go somewhere and get lost. I guess risk is a potential friend in that situation. I miss hanging out with Amy even though we only hung out once for a photoshoot. She always inspires me to travel. I anticipate developing her first black and white film she recently finished. Crystal reminds me that friendships can be rekindled after a gap in communication. Same goes for Jessica who messaged me out of the blue at a time when I desperately needed to rekindle with old flames (friends, not lovers!). Mia has continued to support me in everything I do, emotionally and spiritually. She doesn't have to tell me that she supports me. She just does. That's enough for me. I am blessed to have my friends warm me when I'm cold.