The not so anonymous ramblings of your friendly neighborhood asian.
I've been subjected to several movies as of late where the protagonist bemoans the fact that, despite having a graduate's degree in journalism from an elite accredited school, he or she has been given the menial task of writing a "slice of life" column. This scenario most assuredly turns the protagonist into a mortal enemy for me and I proceed to stop watching. My natural willingness to suspend my disbelief becomes an active exercise in civil disobedience to listen any further. Said character has been offered a full salary to sit down and write their general musings on life and guaranteed an audience will loyally follow along every insipid word.
It's my dream job and I get to hear Hollywood's version of a person who hardly appreciates how lucky they truly are.
I don't want to be on the frontlines of some civil war going on in some unpronounceable county that I've never heard of. I don't want to be undercover exposing some scandal going on in some industry. I truly just want to write about the things that matter to me the most....like that one time I was eating lunch and how I saved a potato chip from that very day because I was convinced it's likness to the Virgin Mary really got me through the lowest period of my life. Or perhaps, why none of the lack of success in securing a proper relationship has anything to do with my fears of commitment, but more likely due to a grand conspiracy founded by a skull and crossbone society I somehow managed to slight many moons ago because I made some casually harmful remarks about the Publisher's Clearinghouse Sweepstakes.
The true gems of life...
I'm just saying. Anywho...I suppose I should spend more time practicing for the day when the gods finally decide to shed their light upon me. Posting more often would help.