Hi, I’m Raymond, and I’m a recovering nihilist.
I have spent the latter half of my life drifting, a microcosm for mankind’s own ripple in the sea of eternity. I try not to have friends, because friendship outlines enmity. I try not to have morals, because kindness and decency imply existence of their opposites. However, I try my best to find patterns amidst the chaos, I try to see the unity in our world and to experience the oneness where nobody can tell the difference between anything. I hope you all think of me as a friendly eccentric, at least.
Sole child of immigrant parents, I was the vanguard in this foreign land. I was the One. On my shoulders, I bore the weight of my descendants’ futures. My success would also exorcise the demons of the past: the rape of China by foreign powers, the family’s purge in the Cultural Revolution, the failed ambitions of my father; did I forget to mention the ghost in the kitchen sink? Sadly to say, I cracked under the pressure. Like the biblical Jacob and Esau, I resolved to throw off the yoke God had placed on me.
Oh right, the man upstairs. I grew up as a Christian, although my parents did not observe. Big Mak’s lack of faith no doubt rubbed off on little Mak. I lived by the tenets of the faith, but I dwelled in the mindset of an ascetic. I would gladly help my fellow man, but not live with him. Eventually, I hung organized society with the chains in which it placed me. The dual emancipations were a bittersweet moment. I tasted the free air but it was quickly overpowered by the sweat freedom entailed. No more cooked dinners waiting for me, no more pep talks from the reverend. I left the nest a little early, but I never forgot my roots. As an adult, I see the love in my parents’ in providing a home to thrive, and the love in God’s hardships in providing a crucible to temper my spirit. If I should die, I can say I am at peace with my parents, and I have never quarreled with my God.
But, before this….
My adolescence was like any other: I loved, I lost and whatever teenagers do except I had to work. To fill the void my parents had left, I replaced them with bad company. My bitterness at lost time and my apathy for the future gave birth to ennui: the soul-crushing, joy-eating boredom, the feeling there is no reasoned order, no purpose, the bane of modern man. I fled to Florida after school, but the beast hounded me. It was as tenacious as a dope-fiend’s desperation and as painful as unrequited love. I will let these two metaphors define this era.
One winter’s night, I was sandwiched between a pothead and a hobo. Bad joke? I thought so too. As I was about to turn off Vivaldi’s Winter and hide my phone, I experienced an epiphany. I thought it was the smoke, but I realized otherwise. It was surreal and unexplainable, but we were stranded on our own islands of suffering, but it didn’t have to be that way. Feeling better, I gave the hobo a dollar and the scarf he touched. After a trip back to NY, I had a heart-to-heart with my parents and decided to finish my education.
In Baruch, I plan to set my sails with the wind. After all, we’re here for a good time not a long time.
