And I actually stayed engaged.

For 3 hours for a writing workshop.

On skype with video.

It takes these things to be successful:

Because all of the above still happens in person. Regardless.

My great grandmother lived to be 103 and my grandfather is in his late nineties.

If similar genes are passed down to me, could I really be okay with living a whole century–to watch everyone I knew pass away, disappear, times change?

I think…yes, of course. If I had my mind. If it was nimble enough as it is now. If it didn’t slow down to a trickle where I would desire to have a mind as youthful as it is now, but am clouded by health, distracted by an imbalance of hormones…and feel like I was living in fog. That’s not a life that I would want.

I want to be able to express myself clearly and succinctly. Be able to write in some form. That is my outlet now. That has been my outlet for the last decade. If I am not allowed to let it out, then what?

I cannot and will not just let the world pass me by.

Still stuck on the same song:

Right now, I am sitting alone in a king sized bed in a prepaid hotel room with the room temperature dropping to mid-60s, my preferred temperature for sleeping. I am waiting for creativity to strike me like it suddenly does when I am glazed over by spoken words and deliberate gestures. The thoughts of the day, the week, the month, the year stream over my mind like wind passing…just passing through.

And now, I finally stand on my own. Without outside influence. Without prompt. Without fear. So what will I do when I stand on a cliff or is it steps? Or is it the crossroads? Is it the path to a house with a candle in the window or the green lantern?

I saw the car drive out toward the horizon, waters lapping along the shore, making the rocks become the sand we see centuries from now.

I can only do this by myself.

From time to time, I imagine myself performing on stage. I imagine singing, pulling the audience in and in. Or I am a comedian…where suddenly I am on the roll, making people laugh, cry, scream.

In my high school yearbook, partly facetious and partly serious, I wrote for the question “Where do you see yourself in 10 years”: “A drummer in LA”.

I always wondered what most people thought.

I love the spotlight. Or at least that’s the inner side of me speaking.

It hasn’t changed, but suddenly when I get a few chances to be in the spotlight, I want to hide. I hate giving speeches in front of people. I hate giving presentations. I hate singing or dancing. Sports, don’t even ask.

Yet I crave for it. The small part of me, thinks how exciting it will be. So I plan and plan and plan for such moments. As part of a greater goals. Because I think that I tell everyone my design plans better than my colleagues. Because I know more about ice cream than anyone else in the room. Because I want people to know about the project. Because I have a question that nobody has yet asked.

The two things that I failed in school were this:

1. Skills test. I could never hit a ball with a bat or racket. Or catch. Or anything that required physical coordination.

2. Participation. I was a mute although if you talked to me through the computer screen or on paper, I had too much to say.

And so for my kickstarter project, I knew that there would be endless publicity and am thrilled for this article. Yet I want to fade into the wallpaper. My name is out there. My reputation. My my…what will people think of me.

But the greatest thing of this society (at least for things like this):

Everyone forgets the name. who was that…person…who did that ice cream thing? what was it called? who is that crazy?

(And shoutout for my project! More than three-fourths of the way there!)

I have always disliked the idea of gifts. I understand the intention, but people don’t understand me and get me things that I feel thankful for…but also abhor. I am not girly—so bath salts don’t do it for me. I am too local-centric that gift certificates would not do (and sometimes insult me). But whatever the case, I still really appreciate the thought.

But at the very most, presence > present.

I love it when someone shows up, talks to me, but especially talks to everyone else. The curiosity, the communication matters to me much more. or if they can’t make it, taking a rain check. That’s my kind of present.

Of course in this world where registries are so predominant, last year, I started becoming frustrated with the idea that registries are for life events that we are so expected to have.

So what about the single person registry as suggested on Sex and the City. Why do I dish out money for an engagement party, a bridal shower, a wedding, a baby shower, a kid’s birthday…etc etc. When those things may be far in the future for me or never happen.

I have birthdays of couse, but I always emphasize the presence and really want to say no presents. Although a thoughtfully written card is very welcome.

Then I did my kickstarter. I was surprised by all the amounts and all the friends that contributed. Could I really say—I can determine the strength of friendships based on the speed of contribution (depending on the friend’s financial flexibility, of course).

I wondered…is that my version of a gift registry? I don’t like the idea to be surrounded by things from Crate & Barrel or Macys. My taste is so eclectic and almost craigslist-driven (the journey of getting a piece matters more than the piece itself) that I couldn’t do it. I didn’t want to judge, but then the thought crossed my mind.

Do you want to celebrate with me…this ice cream travel guide…the same way you would celebrate a wedding, a birth, a house with me?

Now that I have social graph on Facebook, these are things that I really want to search for. To satisfy personal curiosity. To understand what happened. To find explanation.

Such as:

But that’s not what Social Graph is great at. It’s great for advertisers. But I don’t know what it will do for me personally.

In high school for our “final project”, I made a video.

I don’t remember what everyone else did. I only remember what I did. I had a voice and it was so silent. So without really thinking about the consequences and how I would feel, I decided to make a video that showed everything that I was. A voice that often was covered by social anxiety. A voice that was squashed by all the middle school bullying. A voice of an outsider in high school.

It started with me moving from Hercules to Lafayette—perhaps a symbolism of how it was easy…then suddenly hard. The video showed all the accolades that I had received over the year. That confirmed my intelligence and academic aptitude. And then it showed me going to prom. Senior prom where I was set up. To me, it was an embarrassing moment. But I wanted to show how I desperately wanted to fit in and how I pretended to be like everyone else, but I couldn’t be. And an empty bag floating in the air a la American Beauty.

I remember mumbling some words as a I presented my final project and finally just started the video. When it started playing, I realized that my work was on screen and everyone was watching. The feeling of being in the spotlight overwhelmed me and I wanted to hide although I really wanted to watch everyone. I felt so…vulnerable, scared. That I stood at the podium and put my head in my arms, trying to duck and shrink into a small person.

My teacher Mr. McAllister came out to give me a hug. I remember him trying to assure me from behind, but I don’t remember how I reacted. I was proud of my work. It meant a lot to me, even though nobody else probably understood the inherent meaning.

Likewise, for my Kickstarter video, I wanted to hide. During my launch event, I wanted to hide behind a door, but I forced myself to smile as I spoke on screen. The words that I had said…10…20 times while Shaun listened and asked me to do it this way or that way. I was impressed with his direction. Fortunately I had seen it so many times that my embarrassment threshold got already so low. Most people were watching the video for the first time and had never seen me so poised, so well-spoken. But well, there it is.

I hope that I get there. But who knows. I am excited to see what happens.

After a bike ride up to Cole Valley (ice cream bar) and Union Square (writing workshop), I was tired…and most importantly hungry on my way back. Fortunately my ride to and from were uneventful. Just one small minor incident realizing that my back brakes somehow became loose (somewhat scary while riding down the hill on Market Street).

But all was well.

So I called my usual compadre. TACOS TACOS TACOS, I yelled into the voicemail. Silence.

Ever since taking upon the rule of never eating alone, I just never eat alone except in my kitchen. So I returned to my place where my roommate and friend were sitting in the living room couch. I ate the remaining bread from Brick Maiden Breads (Pointe Reyes!) with a bit of cheese from Cowgirl Creamery and the two kiwis that I bought on sale.

But as I went back to my room, hunger dug at me. Again.

Then I checked foursquare. Omg, hey my good friend Jenn is at The Jelly Donut. So why not. I put on my winter jacket and walk stupidly alone down 23rd street (realizing that I was not supposed to walk alone due to a recent assault). Halfway through my walk, I realized my error and am thinking about walking in the middle of the street, admist the street lights. Of course, that way EVERYONE will see me. Especially if they’re dodging me in traffic.

Fortunately, I made it to Jelly Donut and talked to Jenn (and Ian!) for awhile. And the evening ended uneventfully with them walking me back in their cleats and road bikes in hand.

…you can see. For real.

The weight is finally gone. So you can walk, run, move freely. Your shoulders and back don’t ache with the soreness. You have this wonderful skip in your step—that used to be present a year ago. A year ago right before the weight arrived.

Your eyes are not so…focused in a tunnel. You can see on both sides. You see straight ahead and to the side—both left and right. It’s so open from here. You spot goals in the horizon. The destinations. Excitement is so thrilling. You can’t wait until you get there, because you never noticed it before.

The smells. Well, you smelled the same thing over and over again previously. You didn’t know that it was possible for other things. You smell flowers, you smell the disgusting smell from the benches, you smell the wet streets, you smell the burning of pine cones. It’s all so wonderful and so overwhelming, but now you have the freedom to be…overcome with all the sensations.

I am so glad that my burden is away.

So on Girls (my latest TV show favorite), Hannah doesn’t drink. Because “bad things happen when I do”.

To say the least, I was floored. In her 20s? Really?

A friend of mine recently decided to be sober as a new year’s resolution (after drinking too much and sleeping through new year’s eve internationally). When he told me about his resolution (despite the fact that I should fully support him), I had my doubts that he would do it. It has been slightly more than 2 weeks and he is still completely dry.

Honestly, I am not quite sure why I have such issues with the whole concept of alcohol. Every so often, I convince myself that it’s because I see it as a poison and a ridiculous “handicap” that people use for things they wanted to do (without it). But I become so…so…fearful when thrusted in a situation of alcohol. Networking events, especially, where there is an expectation to fit in. I look ridiculous as I sputter (or try to whisper) to the server…umm…anything without alcohol? It’s almost easier to order water. Especially when it’s at a place with one drink minimum.

Everyone eats, but not everyone drinks.

So I was shocked that it came up as an everyday issue in Girls. Because I have always seen that chugging a beer or wine was a very twenty-something thing to do especially as a hipster in NYC. It’s the thing that got people in bad relationships and ruined jobs, the kind of thing that happens frequently in the twenties. But this wasn’t the case. For anything bad that happened, it was just purely insecurity, fear and immaturity. Not even alcohol to blame. I admire that.