This week I realized how blogging is this underground world of free speech, torment, and glory under faceless anonymity.

I had zero exposure prior to this month to the wonderful and horrendous blogs out there.

I am under a thinking spell these days, wondering where my blog belongs in all this. Perhaps it is a symbol that I struggle with: Where does my writing belong? Where do I belong?

My writing is more than the look-what-I-have-for-lunch-today-and-
I’ll-show-you-all-my-pics-of-this-morning’s-sunrise blog. But it’s not quite up to par with I-have-indisputable-theories-about-the-world-and-it’s-problems-and
-can-argue-until-I-am-dead blog.

A carnivorous, idealistic mystic. That is who I am today. Where do I belong then?

I think I will start with not apologizing. Yes! No I’m sorry’s. None of that tomfoolery.

When I want to write about the asian diaspora, I will. When I want to write that McSteamy from Grey’s Anatomy is the freakishly perfect combination of Justin Timberlake and a pirate, I will.

I do belong. My writing does have a place, just as long as I try not to mimic anyone or anything that I am not.