I looked up from writing a beat story today and I thought, this is boring. I had a paranoid thought.

"Only my third assignment for journalism school, and I'm already phoning it in."

Then, I had a truer and sadder thought.

"I've forgotten why I write."

I emailed the story, which probably isn't too bad, at 5 p.m. Still, since then I've been speculating about how this happened. How did I forget why I write and how can I remember my motives again?

It's been going something like this:

"So what do I like? What do I believe in?

I believe in human connections. I believe that when you can look at other people with empathy, you can see yourself, and feel at peace. I believe that people are generally good."

I had to stop here. I don't know if I'm good, or even generally good. Actually, I feel quite bad.

It's impossible to believe in human connections when I feel that I personally am not good. If I don't believe in human connections, well then, I'm lost.

Sigh. This must be resolved.

Let's talk about something else.

This morning, on my walk to the train I saw a nice photograph stapled to a parking meter. It said "Henry Thies for City Council" about and below a picture of a white man, looking kind and professional, with his arms crossed.

Isn't Thies a French name?

Then, I heart shouting ahead, and I thought it was a protester or a madwoman. I turned the corner and it turned out to be a woman scolding her little boy. He looked at her dumbfounded as she yelled, "...you do not fold it like that! That is FILTHY!"

I thought that little boy must think that's normal speaking volume, and that made me smile.

Then, as I was taking the train uptown, I remembered that a Korean-American girl I barely know once said that I wasn't really Korean, I was basically white. I was pissed off about that for at least five minutes.