The Parole of a Shy Person.

By cultural (asian) upbringing and natural tendency, I am a very private person who prefers to live an isolated lifestyle inured from the bigotry, violence, and outright meanness that living in the American society entails. And while I live inside my plastic bubble, I can't help but see how much my social skills have eroded. I can't complete sentences in any meaningful way or enunciate words that I know the meaning of. I fear that I have begun to sound like a dullard. Perhaps it is because I must spend so much time learning the latest slang that isn't (ain't?) anywhere near grammatical english. Or is it because I have to dumb down my words because teenagers can't put together a more descriptive sentence that doesn't include the misuse of the words fuck or mad, and not knowing that "they is" isn't correct. (Sorry, I heard a very lucid radio interview with Kanye West about helping hurricane Katrina victims and that is the only thing he used incorrectly. Kanye, the correct thing to say is "they are".)

So this is more of an expirement to see if I can retain my mental agility that allowed me to communicate at a level where I received laudatory acclaimations such as "You write and speak like a NY Times reporter." Then again, I think the memory of a pretty young lady that I thought was out of my league in my advanced english class reading my paper in a peer review session saying that she "never knew I could write like that" may be another ego enhancing reason to get the "skills" back.

Beyond that expirement, it also is an attempt to break out of my habitual need to zealously guard and isolate my life to the exclusion of even my closest friends. I feel the need to release my inner self from within my isolated shell to express what I truly feel and think. Fully guarded in my suit of armor named Anonymity, of course. Who knows, perhaps I can divest my inner self of that earthen bound shell.

Before I forget, I also need to thank one angry and decidedly disturbed girl for her darkly ironic approach that gives me the courage to consider this adventure. (Somebody ask her what Mr. Right's height is supposed to be. Asians don't have green eyes without augmentation.)