Thursday, January 26, 2006


One of the reasons I started this anonymous blog was so that I could feel free to write whatever I wanted to without feeling restricted and judged. Unfortunately, I've found the fact that I share it with my brother and that I jumped the gun and gave the link to a couple of people, who in retrospect aren't the best candidates to read what I have to say, prevent that.

For the most part, I've been pretty good about who I've handed this link to. They are people I know for sure are non-judgmental and open-minded, or fellow writers who find my, often offensive, sarcasm and bluntness refreshing. Something that surprises me (and also doesn't surprise me) is that I haven't told a single one of my friends whom I consider my closest friends about it, with the exception of one. Does this mean that I need to reevaluate these relationships, or is it that I know, because they are the people I interact with on a regular basis, they will piss me off at one point or another and I'll want to write about them?

Maybe it's a little bit of both. Something I realized during the two times I've lived away from New York, especially the last time, is that people grow up, they grow apart or grow together, shit changes, who cares. I used to feel guilty and horrible when certain friends drifted, and I knew that it was largely my fault for not making more of an effort to keep in touch. Now, I see it as a fact of life. There's too much going on to grasp at the remaining threads of a relationship that no longer comes naturally. So, now as I watch some of my adolescent friends drift away and even see some come back, I don't feel worried or sad. I just accept it as life. People who really know me know that I hate to email, I don't like to talk on the phone, I often prefer staying home with a bottle of wine and a DVD than going out and thrusting myself into the giant throbbing hormone that is New York City nightlife. The people who really know me accept this and don't take it as some sort of passive-aggressive personal attack or accuse me of being "dull" and "depressing." The people who really know me know that I can sit on the phone for hours and listen to their problems while rarely talking about mine, take a two-hour trek to Brooklyn and chug a 40 to catch-up, bounce around a club until 5AM and get greasy food in Chinatown afterwards.

This post was supposed to be about censorship because I wrote one just before about a bit of a dilemma B is having, but he told me I can't post it as it is offensive and "can cause a lot of problems for him in the coming months." I thought it was a good one, but alas, it will be lost in blog obscurity forever thanks to the fantastic restraint and discretion that is practiced by the beautifully tight-knit, shit-spitting Asian New York City society. I'd actually like to post it just to see how quickly it would get back to the subject of the post...a social experiment of sorts.

Somehow this post morphed into a depressing one about friendship and the like, so I'll leave off with a profound quote by one of my favorite hip-hop artists, Mos Def:

I seen her on the Ave, spotted her more than once
Ass so fat that you could see it from the front.



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