Lost

I've been all over the place, self-proclaiming that I troll on New Yorkers for fun. I view my life as perpetually boring therefore I unload a dosage of troll on people...karma is sure to bite my ass one day. I get myself in spaces where I shouldn't be in and I feel like Beryl is to blame, or at least to credit for influencing me. When I first saw Beryl holding a Free Hugs sign in Union Square I knew he was my answer to a fearless life: he showed me what I could do with pure confidence and audacity. He psychoanalyzed me and said I should not be afraid or make direct assumptions about people. I should open my heart, or as my mom says, "fong hoi tew sum" in order to let others in and assess them for who they are without holding onto too tightly to stereotypes. I knew Beryl would transform me, but it was another person who molded me into this reckless, audacious personality. I don't remember who, but it is possible that I am influenced by many strangers or by act of approaching a countless number of strangers. I seek pleasure through anonymity and I seek the comfort of strangers. Strangers provide a safe harbor. I can guard myself by being defensive, "You don't know who I am," and this statement is actually valid when I'm speaking to a stranger. When I feel hurt I would pull away and get over it because I can't take things personal with a stranger. These are the degrees of separation which only increase the more I meet strangers. I get a high and profit off of attention they give me. I become emboldened and carefree.

"Where's your beef?" My father isn't asking me to eat red meat, he is asking me what my skill is. He probes me for an answer, but I don't have it. I have no skill, according to him. He says my sociology degree is feckless, useless because I have no basic skills such as accounting, management, computer installation, IT. He insists that I go to trade school ("jick yip") and install windows or rehabilitate air conditioners. These positions don't require mental thought and suit my lazy personality. I feel resentful because my father knows who I am, obviously. My parents live with me every second, so they know what kind of treachery I breathe. Perhaps I am a manipulative sociopath just like Stephanie said. I'm a charming person who sways people without flinching a finger. This morning, my father insists that my dogma is through the roof---he says that I think I know everything and that I'm right. I dodge his point and criticize him infallibly. I am still contemplating a psych eval at Blanton Peale. Perhaps I have a mental disorder like that of my grandfather. I take things too seriously, and use excuses, wield First Amendment rights to my advantage. Two wrongs do not make a right, but I insist that once someone offends me, I am fully given the right to insult them in return. These kinds of ethics and morals only legitimize Draconian laws in which eye for an eye is a resolution.

I traveled to Astoria to meet Tony and pick up his guitar from a stranger. I was skeptical at first because I didn't want to go into a stranger's house, but what's ironic is that I would do so many other things with strangers, yet not enter someone's lair. This is similar to meeting Rosalyn in the summer: she invited me into her apartment and I did not suspect her for one bit, but when I enter a man's house I am overcome with paranoia. This explains my perception of women and men: I give women so much leeway that if someone was to use a woman against me, I would be so gullible and led by my senses that she could rob me and seduce me to death. After meeting Chris and picking up his Takamine I rode the train home with Tony. Being with Tony no longer makes me powerful and that's ok. I didn't ask to be friends with people so that I can overpower them. I used to adore playing the knight in shining armor, always outstretched and helping people, but this proved to be suffocating and pretentious. People want friends who do things because they want to, not because they have. Once favors are delivered or compliments are scattered, the friendship is placed on a pay-back scale and deeds are tallied, counted up. This burdens the relationship and the other party feels obligated to treat the person back; this disintegrates the friendship over time. It's like a forced friendship that is sculpted with too much effort---I try way too hard sometimes, as I've been told.

I don't want to overpower a friendship because I don't want to smother the other person with friendliness by doing favors for him or her. This becomes odd and raises levels of cynicism in my friend. He probably thinks Why is Ken doing me all these favors? He knows he doesn't have to...he wants to be selfless, but clearly, he is selfish to other people. This friendship must be rigged---he tells me he doesn't expect anything, yet he keeps showering me with gifts and connections. I'm sure that Tony had this reaction and let me know frankly that I don't have to buy him anything. I truly appreciate that. Bromance is born with the exchange of honesty. Honesty of emotions and sincerity. Perhaps I am beginning to find a male friend, gaining male friends who understand me in a more kindred way than women do.

Tony advised me that loving your partner even 50% is mediocre, but loving only 20% is unfair to keep the partner captive. If you can't learn to love the other person entirely there is no point to want to convert them into your ideals. He also emphasized the importance of an interdependent relationship which reminds me of Eric Fromm's book The Art of Loving. Codependent relationships are emotionally frustrating and exhausting because two people run on each other's battery. An interdependent relationship runs on each other's battery but this is a combined battery instead of two separate batteries. Relationships, like everything else in life, takes work and of course, dedication. If you half ass anything in life, you will fall down on your half-ass, but if you tried your best and hardest at something then your failure will be cushioned by your faith, or after-faith, as I like to call it.

Two nights ago I spoke to her again. One month later we are still probably in denial of each other, but I sense that we might slowly be drifting back together. Two logs floating on a calm river, not really touching or meeting up with each other, but if the current drives us along, we shall see. I told her that I miss her and I think about her. But I want to know that I miss her a lot, a lot, a lot. No scale from one to tens, or percentage rates, I just want to tell her that my tears are actually meaningful and scalding. I want to let her know that I want her warmth and her care. Maybe I've overdone my conversations with strangers---I've hiked up my expectations and after each rejection I raise my standards as a defense mechanism, but because my rejections only continue one after another, I begin to settle with loneliness. I begin to overwhelm myself with neediness. I need someone to fulfill me. My self-sabotaging act of feeling like a hopeless romantic only allows me to seek relationships half-way. A successful relationship will surprise me but will not satisfy me because I get aroused from being rejected. I like playing up to a woman and kneeling at her feet, as much as I praise equality. During the chase I want to be the one chasing her and licking her feet, but once I acquire her I want to overpower her for a day, and then eventually let her go because I would become bored the very instant I call her my girlfriend. This is the sake of an immature phase I am in...a phase that is ruled by polyamory. This is an epidemic of promiscuity in which men have stories about how many women they hit on or slept with. But the truth is gentlemen don't kiss and tell.