(special effects included. George Lucas, are you listening?)
My name is Peter Lu. I am 21 years old. I am single. I live in New York, and I am single. Tonight, I went to a bar, for the first time in what felt like a very, very long time. I am not tipsy. Repeat, I am not tipsy. Let me tell you what happened.
First, know that I’m sitting outside my door, sprawled on the linoleum floor, computer in lap. Wallet next to me, cell phone on vibrate, 3:35 a.m. This is probably the first relevant detail. The second relevant detail is that my green button-down shirt is unbuttoned 3 buttons, revealing all-too-pale-for-a-Californian skin. The third relevant detail is that my shoes, which James sold to me for $20 after they hurt his feet, are squeezing my heel and my big toe against the warm, claustrophobic fabric. The last detail you should know is that the air conditioner is next to me, and the circulation feels nice against my lukewarm face.
In terms of series of events, all I can tell you is that, from 5:50 p.m. until now, I’ve embarked on many voyages, all dastardly quests at self-serving relevancy (this blog, anyone?). There were two dinners: one in K-town, where the soup bowl was twice as big as my face; and one in Williamsburg, where the beef brisket was so tender my tongue forgot there was food in my mouth. I can tell you I returned to K-town -- where the waitress was from the K-pop music video of my dreams and the rum tasted like cherries and vanilla ice cream -- to, eventually, make fun of two 25-year-olds on an elevator and discuss the perils of online dating with a 40-year-old. I can also tell you that, in the middle of typing this entry, my floor-mate whisked me back to her messy room to tell me about flapper parties, her presence on the board of 9 organizations, and her religious devotion to Nyquil. I hope she never stumbles on this blog. Cute girl, though.
I also want to say that the rest of this week in New York will be one of the best weeks I will ever have as a human being living on planet Earth. It’s the events and the people, but it’s also because of a natural outpouring of the happiness and excitement that had been repressed so viciously this month. It wasn’t like I was unhappy, per se; more like I was fed up with what the world had to offer. I was disenchanted with the social victuals I had painstakingly procured, impassive about my day-to-day work, frustrated with my own lack of excessive hubris. But no more! After all, I did tonight what I should have done years ago: utilized all the tools of my education and my introspection to come up with a grand, final, bombastic list of all the philosophies and aphorisms and keep-in-mind’s that have been percolating in my brain for the last 4 years.
(A reader’s guide to:) why you should do what you want:
because you, fellow reader, are blessed with far more opportunity than the people around you, or, more specifically, the people in countries with GDPs less than $2,000
because you are a mere mote on the space-time continuum, already evaporated
because nothing, absolutely nothing, is ever such a big deal
because your gchat statuses are epic
because you are the shit
Bonus edition, (notes from a flaming redhead):
infinite possibilities
eff the haters
if you’re not having fun, you’re doing something wrong
go 200%, because if you fail, you’ll hit 100%
with confidence, you’ll have much more leeway
surround yourself with positive people
mindfulness
love.
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