Makeover

You ever just get bored of yourself? Like you've ridden this roller coaster too many times, or seen this movie a little bit too much? Granted, it may be a great movie like A Christmas Story, but after 12 times in one day on TNT, you're thinking to yourself, "OKAY THIS IS A LITTLE BIT MUCH!" So now that it has been twenty years, I'm getting a little bored. They tell me that college is the perfect time to find who you are, your identity, and all that junk. But coming out of Stuyvesant High School in New York City, living through six homes, two continents, and a couple of national tragedies, I was pretty sure of who I was awhile ago.

I am a confused Christian. I am an Asian-American, but I'll just call myself hyphen. I like conflict, a lot. I have more passion for the New York Knicks than any subject, any girl, any relative, any god. Silence is louder than heavy metal. Music is my life. I like to be alone. I have tremendous mood swings. I like to make proclamations and declare ephiphanies though I don't really have them. I have been overweight since the 4th grade. I like myself a lot. But even this is getting boring.

Part of me wants to worship at a mosque, so that I can be a confused Muslim for a day as I turn up the volume from the prayer chants of the iman over the Chris Tomlin album. I want to paint myself green and run around on all fours. I'm going to root for the Atlanta Hawks or the Houston Texas or the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. I'm going to go to the woods (and by woods in New York, I mean the two trees in the backyard) and not talk for 6 hours. I'm going to the dance club and just stand there in the middle of the dance floor, motionless, until I feel like it and I will bust a move for 5 seconds before I retreat back into a still form. I will start saying "Eh who cares?" when I'm excited or "Oh" and nothing else when I am curious. I wonder how sane I would be if I simply sat on a wooden chair for days, only getting up to eat crackers, drink water, and pee.

I am desperate for me to leave myself. I want to shut this movie off, roll back these eyelids as the screen goes black. So that while I am hibernating, the fab 5 can come over and makeover more than my clothes, but change who I am. Cause I'm tired and bored. Maybe that's why gays are getting all the tv shows and the women. But I digress. I have already reached my midlife crisis, not asking myself is this all there is to life, but I'm asking myself is this all there is to me?! Because if this is it, I'm missing a lot of the adventure, the passion, the mystery of it all. That's it. While others are preoccupied finding the mystery of a woman, a man, a god, a science, or a universe, I need to realize first that there is a mystery in me.

I do not want to fall out of love with myself to the point, where I'm spending Friday nights alone with myself, finishing off my own sentences, when the inevitable has happened: the clanking of the silverware has drowned out the voices in my head. I want to be able to surprise myself with a new farting sound, a poem so good it amazes myself, bring myself flowers in the middle of the night, and share secrets with myself that are both painful and yet soothing. I want to link arms with myself and show myself off at all the joints, so my friends can be like, "Dang, where'd he find a booty like that?!" and girls would be like "Wow, suddenly, Yih looks pretty good now that he's with someone."

But these feelings have come and gone. Almost as if my life were running parellel with Nick's and Jessica's, the newlywed season is gone, and I want a divorce from myself. No, I actually just want a break from myself, till I'm no longer bored of myself, till the gut on myself is a little smaller, the air with myself is a little fresher, the skin on myself is a little smoother, and the conversations with myself are a little longer.

Till then, I think I'm clear in this post what I need. A date.