Who are you?

There is a good chance that I will be gone, moved out, in a month. I will be taking a new route, in a new train, to work, from a new city that is very old to me.

Strange. The idea that I am leaving is strange. You don't know how much you have been ensconced in a place, how much attachment you have to a place, until you leave it. I suppose it's the same for people. But at the same time, the feeling of nostalgia, for a place, for a person, is often much more short-lived than we presuppose when we haven't arrived at the exit point yet. I don't think I will miss my little city much, but at least right now, I feel the nostalgia is inevitable.

It's funny that only after less than two months I recognize so many things that the train passes by. Nothing really changes in two months along any train track, of course, but you'd never really think about that. The same abandoned construction site, the same graveyard, the same parking lot, perhaps with slightly different composition of cars, same minor-league baseball field. I notice a lot of things, and hopefully, that's a good sign that I am not always so full of myself.

The reality is also that I am more and more ready to leave. Last night I went to the first Tuesday night milonga this year after much anticipation with the new place. The new space is bizarre; it's big in size but feels very claustrophobic. The ceiling is low and the shape is a very long rectangle. And the entire interior, including the low ceiling, is lined with wood so I feel like I am in a box. Strangely, this box feels even smaller than the box I was in yesterday in the train. I danced with the same people, except for this woman that was new and happened to be the complainer that lived upstairs who used to call whenever the tango music got too loud for her. Ironic how she actually dances and is Argentinian but was the complainer that caused much grief to those of us who actually listen to the music when dancing. Last night I didn't feel charmed by the city. Last night I felt reaffirmed that there was nothing left here for me. And I was about to do what so many before me have done: leaving.

The main reason, the underlying reason, the most encompassing reason, for my leaving is that I feel no identity here. It's true that it was here that I made the greatest number of self-discoveries; it was here that I felt most responsible for my own growth; it was here that I finally started to understand life, understand people, friendship, and love. But none of my growth carried the city with me; the city, being small and cozy, allowed me to grow, gave me space and time to make these discoveries, the soil for my seeds of philosophies, and all this allowed me to start walking on the path of peace. It is for this reason that I find so strange when some people complain about this city because they only see the bad differences. I think it's worthwhile judging a place for what it is, and not in reference to what you have been used to.

So now that I have grown up, finally, I can go into the tough world of New York. And it doesn't feel tough at all. Partly because I already know a lot of people there; none I can call a real friend, but plenty I can hang out with if I want. Friends enrich my life, but I don't need them in the area where I live. I already have friends, both here and in other places in the country, int the world. Part of this maturity is that I can live alone, live in peace, without having the presence of friends around me. I have mentioned several times that I like being alone; I enjoy an evening alone.

The exception is when I want to be with someone and that the couch, the bed, the kitchen table, remains empty, that there is no other toothbrush in the bathroom, that the guest wash towel remains dry and fresh. Perhaps that's the next level of maturity, to enjoy life without even thinking about having a woman. It's like what that tango dancer told me; she doesn't need a boyfriend, and often doesn't even want one, too much trouble. I think there's something immature about avoiding relationships because you're unable to handle another human being, but it's absolutely admirable that you can live happily without the guarantee of the warmth of another body. But that's something in the future for me, if it ever comes. Now I simply wish I had someone. I think about the few people I might be interested in New York, but knowing how fantasies have gotten me in big trouble, I try not to think about them or the impossibilities they might bring me. For now the most important thing is to plan my move.

Move to the city where much of my identity is based. It was not the city where I had the best time. Like India, there is much suffering in the past with New York; in fact, one can say that nearly all the roots of my troubles come from that city. It's tough being an immigrant of a different race growing up in a racist city of millions of lonesome souls. But it is my identity. More than China. More than any other place. I am a Chinese immigrant before I am Chinese. I went shopping this weekend in Brooklyn, and I had to look at myself many times in the mirror when I was trying things on. Every time I looked at myself, I was puzzled: who am I? What clothing would show what part of me that I want to show? How am I different from everyone else? How do clothes that are sold to everyone help make me unique? They are paint, and they are for everyone, but how I use them on the canvass of my body, of my soul, makes me unique or makes me a conformist. I can't help but think about how other girls would see me. It's bad. I want to look in some ways that would attract women.

But that's not abnormal. Fashion, is that really about self-worth, identity? Ideally, yes. But really, practically, it's about looking amazing in front of your friends, in front of strangers you want to fall for you, or at least think about you even for a second. But standing there before the mirror, it gave me an opportunity to start the search for my identity that can be manifested visually. Just by standing there myriads of questions arose in the form of "Who are you?"