What's a New Year?

"If you do not change direction, you may end up where you are heading."

-Lao Tzu

Sleep is arguably difficult to make friends with. Bad habits die hard, but I don't anticipate meeting that day when my body crashes and my dad confirms his quote, "gaw jun see, too late la." Not only do I not want my father's forecasting to come true, but I don't want to learn the hard way. Changing myself before it's too late is likely my first resolution for the new year. Even though my Dad "it's too late," I am hopeful that it's never too late until you are on your death bed or rotting in a prison cell, neither of which are foreseeable scenarios in my near future.

I am eager to reconnect with my surroundings. Leaving my earbuds at home is my second best decision. It's New York City: there's always something to do, see, taste, so why miss out on spectacles that engage my five senses? Drowning myself in sad music only plunges me into unnecessary nostalgia and causes me to recede into my mind. Being in my mind means being absentminded. This is dangerous because I might step out onto an oncoming car or walk into pedestrians during rush hour. A lot of people pound the pavement half awake. They are zombies especially before and after work, but why should I be like them? It's no longer a matter of conformity, but a matter of staying vigilant and aware of my surroundings. Because of my petite stature and quick gait, I maneuver my way around angry New Yorkers and stagnant tourists, but sometimes I blink, lose attention for a second, and run into someone or crash into someone's shoulder. Neither of these is good. When I leave my headphones at home I feel a sense of boredom; without a soundtrack to narrate my walking life I feel powerless to defend myself when I am met with rude people accosting me. The cynical reason that people wear headphones is to shield "crazies" from entering their attention span: if you don't see ir or hear it, it didn't occur. This phenomena makes the commute for thousands of workers more manageable. I, too, would try an eBook for once instead of music. Perhaps listening to a narrator read a story is more peaceful and beneficial to enhancing my English skills. I've purchased my father a dozen audiobooks and I am anticipating listening to them, even if it means I have to carry an antiquated CD player...yay...I stir up more attention from riders. This reminds me of when I purchased a 1980 cassette player, but it only had a mono sound system so I could only hear on one side instead of two.

It's been nearly two months since Fanny and I made our last video on Facebook. I faintly miss performing with her. The distance between us is presumably normal because she has two jobs to juggle and free time to seize especially during this vacation. I don't fault her for abstaining from practicing with me. But I am concerned that her friends are nudging her away from me, urging her to seek a new duet partner, someone more lean and suitable for her voice, personality, charisma, etc. Jealousy can become hardcore, a divisive factor between us, but I hope it does not come to that. I have a feeling that Fanny prefers the organic way of reaching stardom, whereas I spring headlong into all commitments with a sense of temerity that disregards her schedule. To chase the music and fame I don't even take her busy life into consideration, and this is something I'm beginning to notice as one of my flaws. My shortsighted aspect is egregious, especially if I call her my sister, praising her talent, but ignoring her needs to juggle work, school, and a social life. I had a strong affinity for Fanny as my duet partner, but for the Teen Resource Center 10th anniversary party, all this interest and passion melted for two songs. I rekindled with my third duetress Jessica Chen and I was reminded of her sultry and melodious voice. However, we do not blend well. In terms of chemistry, Fanny and I lack adequate rehearsals and jam time. We don't fully apprehend each other's ranges. Better yet, Fanny has a vague idea of how I pick my songs to perform, and I have a vague idea of what about each song hooks Fanny's attention. When we start predicting each other's playlist is when we know we click like the sun and moon eagerly trading places upon rotation. We have yet to book an upcoming performance. Until we get more paid gigs I have a feeling that we won't take things too seriously.

Carrying a newspaper or book has become my crutch, a fake icon of social status and intellect. I masquerade as an established author, a harbinger of knowledge, and a professor whom I don't think I will ever become in the near future (or ever). I'm an elusive person (Funny how I announce myself as an elusive person instead of waiting for others to define me. Self-definitions are strange.) who seeks people's attention whenever possible. This is the main reason that I keep playing pranks on people in public. I'm a person who "joong yee haw men dew" which means likes attention. This constant need for attention and having it satisfied reinforces instant gratification unlike that of cellphone apps and texting. This results in further desensitization and removal from reality. The more time people spend on their cell phones the less people are in touch with reality. For the constant phone user whose head is pressed against the small glass screen, he or she will nurture awkward conversations once you remove the cell phone. The instant gratification situation is sad because it reminds me of a child. Childlike behavior evident in a young adult. This is pathetic. Would I say that I am addicted to attention? Maybe. But only you can decide for me. Sometimes I ask myself why is appearance so important and why do people spend so much time grooming themselves before walking out the door for coffee? My friend Justine spent half an hour getting ready to fetch cigarettes and coffee which left me wondering why the term "high maintenance" was born? My Dad explained it away and said that everyone is fake, "They're [People] able to buy whatever clothes you have on, so whatever you're doing, they can do too, and they know you're doing as well...when women get home they throw off their clothes and eat dinner like animals...they take shits and pick their noses and urinate too." He was shedding light on how primitive humans are in privacy. This may sound obvious, but it wasn't too obvious to me. A subsequent question is raise is: if clothing is superficial, yet we crave honesty, why do we bother teasing each other with nice clothing?

Clothing plays an important role in my life. It doesn't just dress me or define my association with hipsterdom, it also indicates my allegiance to clothing lines as well as the feeling of renewal. Before I traveled to Stony Brook to visit Stephanie I decided to wear nice clothing not just to show off to her, but also to show off to her classmates and the entire Stony Brook school body. I felt that my state as a stranger of outsider would qualify me as an exotic safari tourist inserting himself neatly in a university full of fresh faces. I would disrupt the school body by being incredibly new and unknown, but of course the ultimate reality is nobody really cares. I chose a Wallace and Barnes/J.Crew flannel shirt because I felt like a traveler on an expedition---I mean it was my first time taking the LIRR to Long Island. I wore the shirt also because of its utilitarian style and heavy material. Long Island was presumably windy (because it is an island and the school has a wide, open air/space campus) so I had to dress warm. I decided to wear my henley as a layer. When I contemplated my return to Stony Brook in June I really wanted to buy the new flannel shirt by Wallace and Barnes. I decided I would build my collection of flannel shirts and dedicate them to use every time I visited Stephanie in Long Island. Of course this desire was not fulfilled and I saved money instead. Buying shirts and sweatshirts have always meant acquiring goods that would age as I aged; this belief system is a hipster idea inserted into my mind by startup culture videos on Kickstarter, etc. I have subscribed to the idea that mass-produced clothing does not last, and was not intended to last a lifetime, hence their cheap prices. A great example of this is H&M: their clothing falls apart after a few washes because their quality is so awful. Since cheap clothing does not last and might as well not be fashionable, I have settled for "artisanal" clothing "made local" that bears higher wages for workers and unique fashion for my body. I would rather purchase an expensive sweater and pretend to never buy another sweater again than buy a cheaply-produced sweater. This is also another mind-game---clearly, businessmen are shrewd people who know how to sway the masses especially during a time of instant gratification. Who really cares whether or not you will buy a sweatshirt later in life? As long as you click BUY NOW, you will have sent the company money and they money will be siphoned out of your account. The transaction will leave you feeling broke yet happy for a few washes because you have a seemingly lifetime guarantee sweatshirt. Later on you will ignore the lifetime guarantee and acquire more sweatshirts, waste more money. Tada. The cycle repeats.