I'm an American!!

Ever since I can remember, I've been...me.  If you closed your eyes and listened to my voice, you'd think I was American.  But, apparently in my experience, looks mean an awful lot.  Good, bad or otherwise, people (myself included) use appearance as a diving board into the pool of social interaction.

Very often the stereotype of being Asian doesn't bother me.  As a matter of fact, it's often a source of humor.  But as a person who feels like, "just me" most of the time, it often baffles me when I become the contestant of, Guess My Race. 

I have been asked such questions as, "Do you know karate?" or, "Are you good at math?"  And of course my response is almost always, "Duh!  Does a bear shit in the woods?  Of course I don't know karate and I suck at math."

I am an American in the stereotypical sense of the word.  If you never set eyes on me and passed judgment based solely upon my behaviors, I am a northern white Yankee of an American.  My parents are northern white Yankees, too.  There are times when I am extremely American.  Every time I hear the National Anthem, I get weepy.  I tend to have the America's the best mentality.  I love fast food (although now in my thirties, I'm trying to not enjoy it so much).  I love the sun and the tan it brings.  I could go on and on about how much I am an American.

My best friend, who is also a Korean adoptee has told me many times that this "assimilation" into my racial, cultural and social surroundings is a denial of my true self.  I will admit that I have not fully explored this aspect of myself.  Hence, I will not dismiss her extremely thorough exploration and self education in this matter.  But it also could be I'm just...American.  I think I sit better with that theory.  And I am proud and thankful to be an American.

The classic "Look that girls Asian we should act like..." example would be my first college experience at the University of North Carolina at Greensboro.  My boyfriend and I drove to college and quickly settled into my dorm room while my roommate was out exploring the campus.  During the hustle and bustle of moving in, there were slight glances from other dorm occupants, small smiles but no real introductions.

Later in the afternoon my new roommate and I finally met.  We shake hands and I swear she looked as though she was going to be sick because I think she was trying to figure out if she should bow or not.  I introduced her to my boyfriend and we sat in that suspended time warp, staring at the blank light blue cinder block walls that would be our home base for the school year.

In her nervousness my roommate lit up a smoke.  So I grabbed my cigarettes and lit up a smoke.  If we had nothing else in common, at least we'd have the addiction of smoking.  Again I thought she was going to be sick.

As she exhaled she kind of chuckled and asked, "You smoke?"

"Yeah."  I said a bit confused.

"Do you guys smoke?" She said placing the ashtray that was on her lap on the small table between us.

"Huh?  Like me and him?"  I pointed to my boyfriend.

"No.  I mean...like Chinese people?"

"I have no clue what the fuck you're talking about.  I'm not Chinese and I'm sure there are plenty of Chinese who do smoke."

From that moment on she got it.  She told the other girls on our floor that I wasn't really an Asian Asian and that I swore just like everybody else for the exception of Ada A.  She was Chinese American.  And she didn't smoke or swear at all.

I'm not a Korean Korean.  I was born in Korea and grew up in a very American culture.  I am an American!!  If you have a problem with that, close your eyes and listen.

Me in a Nutshell

Introductions - hate them, but to be personable, here goes.

I am a thirty something, newly separated, soon to be divorced mother of two.  My daughter and I are currently living with my parents in a small town in Massachusetts.  My husband and my son are living in the next town over.  Except for the short stint exchange to France and my semester attending UNCG, the less than 5 mile ride from here to there, are the only two towns that I have ever resided.  As a child, it was the best.  As a teenager, it was torture.  As an adult, it is the best.

I'm not going to go into what I'm look like, what foods I like, what my favorite movie is, etc.  That juicy stuff is for dating sites.   Hopefully, if I can continue and get a few stragglers to follow, you'll learn little bibbits about me, but to lay it all out there makes me feel as though it's all about me as opposed to reaching out to others.

So...why a blog? 

One, I love to write.  Two, because it's always something I've toyed around with and God dammit, if I'm making big decisions to change my life, I'm going to start doing some of million things I've been toying around with.  Three, lately I've been experiencing things that make me want to laugh out loud, have a temper tantrum or run my car off a bridge.  I need an outlet for these experiences.

Warning - My inspiration comes in small sporadic burst.  The one that spurred me to start this blog...it's gone.