I used to blog much more freely. And I’m not sure exactly what happened.

1. I got a boyfriend. So then I couldn’t just blog about whatever random, weird date I went on anymore. He was my BF and his co-workers were reading my blog… great.

2. Then I got attacks from Asian sites on the west coast which I think left a dent in me somehow.

Of course it’s a good lesson in realizing that our written words are more permanent than we realize— especially when we write 20+ emails /day we can easily be numbed out to that. But I’m also currently reading Jeff Jarvis’ new book, “How Sharing in the Digital Age Improves the Way We Work and Live.” This guy is like the older male version of me! Practically. He writes more about social media and technology instead of sexism and feminism, but in terms of honesty and openness about his personal life he is just like me. He blogged about having prostate cancer (!) and thus found crucial, helpful information by sharing a commonly considered “private matter”.

I wrote about why I care about revealing personal info in my last post.  I just am not sure if personal meanderings is worth people’s reading time or do they need to be profound ideas that I put out and nothing else. Possibly if I get back to writing a small post every day then I might just find my groove again. Thanks for your patience meanwhile and feel free to let me know any suggestions!

It’s been a month since I last wrote and it’s been a great roller coaster ride. The BF and I submitted a grant application at the midnight hour last night and I realized—along with the fact that I need to keep track of our timeline and schedules next time so this doesn’t happen again and his frustration and temper and stress level go skyrocketing—that entrepreneur life has its ebbs and flows whereas a j-o-b is just bzzzzzzzz. Kind of like when someone dies in the hospital and the machine goes “beeeeeeeep…”

OK, so the other real reason I have been MIA lately and really in general for the last year really is that I have experienced some setbacks in my blog—in terms of attacks—and then to add on to that my good friend’s semi-warning question a couple months ago about if I’m ready to deal with the responses to me revealing all my vulnerabilities and deep-dark-secrets online and in my ebook. It’s been echoing in my head and I’ve been trailing a slew of self-doubt behind me ever since.

Do I want to reveal that much online? To strangers? To potentially invite further attacks? Well, no, no one likes attacks. And I don’t relish them one bit, though I would like to get better at being able to handle them. But that’s not who I spill my blood on the page for. It’s to all the other women who have written to me, publicly or privately, and said I never told you but your blog really saved me last year when I was down and out. I really appreciate your resources in your book. I read your book in one sitting! That means the world to me.

And I don’t do it for fame. Fame just seems horribly annoying and superficial, but instead kind of like Schindler in Schindler’s List when he’s on the railroad tracks and he pulls out his ballpoint pen and says— But I could have saved one more person…! OK, a bit dramatic but it really is to touch the dark corners of young women’s hearts and minds. Where we feel that horrible and shitty about ourselves, where we feel we hate the world and our classmates and our teachers and our parents that much; where we feel guilty and anxious and miserable but we’re just numb and used to it because there’s no respite from it, and to come upon this lake in a desert but it’s not a mirage and to pull it out when you wish and get a little perspective.

A new perspective. Because that’s what I didn’t have back then.

It has been an incredible last few weeks. I quit my job that I’ve been with for almost 4 years and have since watched way too many episodes of The Office (U.S. version) while on vacation this week. Well, kind-of “vacation” since I don’t have a job… And no, I don’t have another J-O-B to replace it, but I do have plenty of projects on my plate: Essentially two categories—entrepreneurial stuff and feminist stuff, oh and screenwriting. We’re creating an app and I want to keep figuring out my role in the feminist world in NYC, meanwhile continuing and blogging here more, writing more articles, maybe another book? and now organizing with the Women Information Network’s Women of Color group. And I must say, I am really excited about my screenplay dream. Though still figuring out how to pursue that. Hmm… Essentially, transitioning to being a freelancer and also entrepreneur, simultaneously (?). Oh, and teaching a beginners co-counseling class. So I think I will be quite busy. I also decided last night I would start (letting myself) to read fiction again. Yes! Any suggestions are welcome!

The real point of this post is that I recently saw an amazing play performed and written by young women and girls called Facebook Me. (I think their show may have finished their run this year, but who knows, let’s hope they come back in the near future!) It totally brought tears to my eyes several times. It was incredible and shocking and realistic how they described their present-day realities (sexism) and how it’s all affected by online social networks—namely, Facebook.

One girl was a Facebook “virgin” and just creating her account for the first time, another girl’s dad completely humiliated her in front of her friends and his friends online by posting “I thought temper tantrums ended at the age of 3, but apparently not since [daughter's name] is having one right now” and tagged her. Another girl was conflicted by the amount of attention her breasts drew, at the same time both wanting the attention but also not wanting to be called out on wanting it. So, the same kind of teenage angst and drama that a lot of girls had at their age but also exacerbated by the kind of teasing and “coolness” and meanness that is especially unique and often comes with online social networks. Even if their Facebook “friends” aren’t commenting anonymously (and apparently you can have online friends who don’t and won’t talk to you offline) they are still saying things online that they most likely wouldn’t if in person. Many girls are pressured to feel they must portray a certain image of themselves online, like on their Facebook “wall”, including photos in poses with sexual innuendos and generally making their profile look as “cool” as possible.

Is sexism worse now? Do young women and girls have it harder now than 20 years ago? I don’t think it’s helpful or fair to compare and say a certain generation of women had it harder or easier, but it is important for us adult women to know and start learning what’s going on with girls these days. How can we consider ourselves feminists otherwise?

  Went to dinner last night at MasalaWala in Lower East Side with a girl friend and quite enjoyed it. I always like supporting new, local, independent shops. And environmental with their recycled paper plates.

Turns out I decided to join her after to check out the movie, SHAME, with Michael Fassbender (X-MEN FIRST CLASS), Carey Mulligan (whom I really enjoyed in AN EDUCATION) and directed and written by Steve McQueen. All she told me was the main character is a sex addict and something about his sister having issues too. I was concerned it might be a downer but decided to check it out anyways (the BF was away and I decided to actually go out for once).

I have to say it was quite—interesting. No, of course it didn’t have a happy tale ending as I expected. Was it a cop-out as my girl friend suggested? Well, did I want to watch him keep doing his sex orgies, and online videos, and porn for another hour? No, not really. I find it brave that a man was brave enough to write a script on a topic that is either generally considered taboo or actually “normal” in our society. It’s expected that you will be having sex by the third date—at least in some circles. And am impressed that a man is sure enough in himself to take on that role. As much as it may seem like a “cool” or “hot” character to play—trust me—McQueen did not portray this character as happy with his addiction. It was an affliction. It ate up his energy every minute. It consumed him. I mean it is called SHAME after all.

Not all of the graphic images were necessary, and I definitely felt I needed to wash the images out of my head after—as it also brought up some not-so- good memories of my past life—but it was an interesting attempt to try to understand how our society has bred such fucked up humans. At my workshop last weekend on “sexism and male domination,” the leader also mentioned how it’s usually men under 40 something that are addicted to porn.

Any comments or thoughts from folks on all of this?

I had looked forward to David Henry Hwang’s Broadway play, “Chinglish,” with much anticipation and excitement. I loved DHH’s previous plays. And an Asian American play on Broadway! I certainly had never considered I might be disappointed. But disappointed I was and am.

I moved to New York City so I could have the opportunity to see Asian American theater, spoken word, art shows, etc on a regular basis. They are not an oddity here. It’s great. However, I’ve been disappointed twice lately. Yesterday I attended a performance at the Museum of Chinese in America— which turned out to be worse than a play reading— with long tables, a useless powerpoint show, and a long rendition of facts of 21st century wars in China. Really?

But back to Chinglish. I usually love David Henry Hwang. His play, “Yellow Face,” which I had the great fortune of catching just after moving to NYC in 2007 was absolutely fantabulous. Moving, touching, the characters revealed vulnerabilities of the writer himself and his struggles with his own family. Fast-moving and thought-provoking, it was deeply satisfying.

Chinglish was none of these. The play is about Chinese – U.S. business relations and focuses on an Ohioan businessman and his affair with a married Chinese woman. At some points I didn’t understand her definition of Chinese marriage myself with her broken English—loyalty and commitment while love was secondary, I believe it was. However, the first act was a teaser and by intermission I was sure deeper meaning in the characters’ relationships would explode to the surface and I would be wowed and blown away. And my BF, whom I brought, would see how great Asian American theater could be—this being his first.

Again, I was wrong.

I did like that the play was in mostly Chinese. That was a pleasant surprise. Also watching a play in Mandarin in the U.S. with English subtitles was a first. However, beyond the simple fact that the play was about Chinese people—but not Chinese Americans or Asian Americans—there wasn’t much I took away from it. Except that Chinese in China apparently look upon U.S. financial disasters and corruption like Enron with appreciation and even admiration??