too much has been made, that is, inside my own head, of the need – ay, the pressures – to be something more – especially during these summer weeks – a period that is supposed to be constructive and rewarding.

of course, try going six straight days of inordinate beer consumption and self-pitying over never-to-be-materialized romances — the pressure just mounts and you find yourself whining. well, i did.

all the partying – from the restaurant/bar, lounges, downtown loft, asian party scene, my own single – ended with a familiar late-night afterparty gorging at Gameeok, where me, Albert, Rich, and new aquaintance Lawrence tried to laugh off a night of Sausage Squad patrol at an MK party in the Canal Room. “At least your girl wasn’t heavier than you,” Rich, shaking his head, told me. “I’m never coming out without any girls again,” Albert, usually on the passive side, declared authoritatively. the sulong tang and bin dae dduk helped to distance lingering memories of standing still amid a dance floor wondering if we could summon up the courage to dance with a stranger.

the night ended with Rich trying to convince me to become a trader – even to the point of prophesizing that i will become one. lots of money, lockroom testosterone, intensity, excitement, long hours, no real skills needed, etc. — can’t say for sure that i’m totally opposed to the idea, but then again, will there be much to show for besides a handsome bank account balance? or is that all one needs in this world?

which brings me back to the pressure i’ve been feeling. the pressure to be more. i don’t really know what the driving cause is – i tell myself that it’s a deep-seated insecurity of being worthless – and my comparative habit of wondering why i am not as “successful” or “accomplished” as some of my peers has me discontent and dissatisfied — all while handicapped in a mental way so that i just lament at the realization but do little to correct it.

but of course, i am being silly. i look around and realize i am being unnecessarily jittery and over-worked about myself. calm down!

so i tried, and to a degree, it worked. i needed coffee badly and it was already past 9pm on a monday that i didn’t have work thanks to the birth of our awesome country. i promised myself i would drink decaf because i have work tomorrow and i can’t stay up too late. starbucks was closed early, but luckily, i found nussbaum & wu on 113th still open. a small decaf – the first time i’ve ordered it for myself (my parents always drink decaf) and a small cookie to nibble on – i sat down in what was virtually an empty room save the white woman chattering on her cellphone while going over a bunch of papers a few tables away. i plopped down on a four-person table and opened up my bonfire of the vanities. about ten minutes into my reading, i recognize the familiar guitar tabs and realize it’s john mayer singing why georgia on the radio. “am i living it right” is the line that i take to heart and wonder if all the self-imposed pressures and dissatisfaction is worth it. then it’s back to the book, where i devour all tom wolfe has to paint about new york in the eighties — and i realize that i love it so much more because the characters – namely the three main ones – are so easy to relate to on a personal level. McCoy – the bond salesman in an extramarital affair and serious legal trouble – loves the material life and puts an emphasis on the appearance of living large. Kramer – the Jewish assistant district attorney who works in the Bronx and went to Columbia Law – has a race-consciousness and muscle/macho consciousness that is perfectly depicted in his prized possession of hard sternocleidomastoids. Fallow – the British journalist for The City Light who can’t keep away from the alcohol and looks condescendingly upon America – is judgemental (like the extra “e”?) and very aware of his inability to ward off a destructive lifestyle. for me, the trinity of these characters have kept me on my feet with every page, on one hand wondering how skillfully they were crafted and on the other hand wondering why it is that i feel so close and even sympathetic to these less-than-virtuous white men. perhaps new york, the setting of this book, has something to do with it . or maybe i am relating to what it is to be american, minus the korean adjective (although they do mention korean grocers at least once so far). yeah, that’s right. is there such a thing (“american”)? maybe i am beginning to believe that there may be.

i walked out of nussbaum about 20 minutes after ten and felt good about a few things. good that i had found a nice reading spot on a weekday. good that i was feeling calm and not as anxious about life. good that i had read a few chapters outside the bathroom stall or subway car. good that there was nobody really watching except myself, so i can cut myself a break.

i guess these self-critical, feel-good, gonna-be-better entries are lame in the sense that the conclusion is always predictable. but since they’re harmless, i don’t mind…. so here goes… who am i? what is it that i want? am i happy? i don’t know. but for the moment, i’ll be who i am, and play it by ear.