The not so anonymous ramblings of your friendly neighborhood asian.

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.

-the end-