Growing up Chinese

It's 1:59 AM as I start to type this blog post.  I'm sitting here still working on the Research Assistant rut that I've taken upon myself to burrow through, during Thanksgiving break, having consumed most of my "resting" days (insert mopey face here).  At first, I was thinking, "Why on Earth do I get myself into these things along with 2390859043 other things that make them turn into annoying inconveniences?"  And then I realized my research would be so much easier if my parents weren't so Chinese.  I know it sounds terrible, but please, allow me to explain.

My research consists of interviewing and recording the interview with 26 Americans. I must fit the criteria to complete the leftover demographically reflective sample with these 26 people: a certain amount of males/females, a certain amount of Republicans/Democrats/Independents, a certain amount of high school education only/college education, a certain amount of young-/middle-/old-aged, and on and on.  Then I have to transcribe the recordings (the interviews last anywhere from 10-90 minutes and it takes three times as long as the actual recording to transcribe it).  Then I have to do all kinds of neat analysis type things with it.  And well, despite the tedious and meticulous work, nothing is quite as difficult as the part where I have to find these 26 people.

It's been over a year since my family has moved to Texas.  This project would've been easy if I could still interview my fellow South Carolinians that I've come to know over the ten years I've lived there but I'm required to do face-to-face, in-person (meaning no Skype) interviews.  But you'd think that one-and-a-half year here in Austin would be enough for my parents to have made enough friends to help me recruit some potential interviewees for my research (since, from what my professor told me, that's how the past Research Assistants worked their connections).  And you know, my parents have made enough friends.  But the problem lies in that they are mostly Chinese people who have recently arrived in the U.S. or have such heavy accents that the interviews with them are often rendered useless and void.  I'm still missing seven more recruits, and I need my entire project done by this coming Wednesday.  I'm in a desperate crunch.

And it's this part of my anxious, running thoughts where I realize that this would all be so much easier if my parents had been, well, more assimilated into the All-American community.  Then, golly gee, I'd have loads of recruits to interview and I would've been done already!  Sad, but true.

Then upon even further revelation, I realized that's how it's been my entire life.  Everything seemed to be a little more difficult for me than my peers (or maybe that's because I grew up mostly in South Carolina so it's warped my perspective, but nonetheless, it's troublesome!).  I mean, don't get me wrong, my parents are fully-functional Americans who have careers - my dad's a professor and my mom works for a big company.  It's just that there's still the cultural and language barrier (I came over to the States at the age of two so we're still pretty Chinese despite my own super Americanized-ness).  It was always weird trying to get my parents to socialize with other parents at any given high school occasion.  In fact, I was this lone butterfly for a while because from where I came from, the parents of the kids who were best friends were also best friends.  Not only that, often in academics and extracurriculars, my parents couldn't help me like other parents did.  In the areas where I saw other parents helping my peers with their school projects or talking teachers into playing favorites, I worked hard to accomplish what I have, on my own.  I mean, I was never mad at dearest father and mother.  How could I have been?  My parents are truly the most supportive and encouraging parents anyone could ever have.  Though honestly, I've kind of always felt like I was on my own, and it's kind of lonely sometimes (or rather, often times).

But somehow, I'm so thankful (no, I did not prepare this blog post for Thanksgiving, though I feel like I should have). For all of it.  For all this independence I was forced into.  I can veraciously say that my independence is unlike any other independence.  Because I can do things on my own...but I've always had the encouragement waiting for me when I turn around, and a shoulder to cry on for the colossal number of failures I've encountered as a consequence of this forced independence.  And it's made me more aware - more aware that I'm, in fact, not the only one - that there may be another just like me, going through all the trials they have to, just because they're different.

In the end, I must say that growing up Chinese has made me recognize my strength - that I'm stronger than I normally take myself to be.  But most of all, it's made me recognize that there are other individuals out there who are just as beautifully strong.  And some of them don't realize it yet.  So, I'm going to take it upon myself to help them see it.

I'm thankful that I get to be a spoiled brat.

Okay, so most people who see the title to this blog post will say, "You don't act like a spoiled brat."  False.  Ask any of my roommates and they'll tell you how I sound when I'm on the phone with my parents.

I don't really know why they put up with me.  I'm kind of a terrible child; I'm really demanding.  I've been in self-denial about it for a while now, thinking that I'm the perfect little daughter.  Well, not so.  Certainly not so.  So I'm really thankful for them, basically.

Oh, and I'm thankful for my (few) close friends that put up with me. Because I start to act really bratty and demanding to those who get closer to me.  Heh, apologies!  Sincerely!  I'm working on it though.  And honestly, I think I've made quite a bit of excellent progress.  I don't think any of my close friends since college have really seen much of this side of me (sorry, Dorothy, for making you the sole sufferer of the Crystal Zhao wrath).  Though if it does come out, again and in advance, I am very truly sorry!

And most of all, I'm thankful for Thanksgiving mainly because I finally get to go all out for Christmas!  I mean, not that I haven't been leaking my Christmas spirit yet, because I most definitely have.  But this time, I really do get to bug people up and down and side to side with all of my merry tidings!  I'm rather excited.

And finally, another new reason to be thankful - I logged onto my blog today and was welcomed by two very comforting comments.  That made my Thanksgiving all the more fuzzy and warmer :).  Thank you to the two of you (you know who you are) for taking the time to read my (sometimes the very opposite of optimistic) thoughts and responding to them.  That was truly amazing.

Speaking of some of my thoughts being the very opposite of optimistic, I've decided that I need to remodel (or re-theme) my blog.  It will be changed soon.  I officially pronounce my blog Under Construction until further notice (and this further notice would probably be very short since I am currently undertaking the editing right now).

Cheers and Happy Thanksgiving to all!

I hate small spoonfuls of peanut butter. And I hate losing myself even more.

Winter's a-comin'. It's time for the winter blues.  Or rather, it's time for a hot-button issue that my friend and I have been discussing lately - I'm experiencing the onset of my speculated seasonal affective disorder (SAD).

But that's only part of it; my SAD is just an attention-grabber for this blog post.

What's really been bugging me lately is how much I feel like I've lost myself.  It might be the stress and worry I've been experiencing.  My fleeting thoughts are a part of  my recently-diagnosed ADHD and anxiety.  Regardless of the reasons, I can't seem to manipulate my mind onto the path it used to be on.

I'm an idealist, I always have been.  But lately, I've been less so, much less so.  I feel like I was more passionate about everything I did prior to this semester.  I suppose you could say that I was more exuberant and vivacious...more thoughtful as well.  I had more insight and more intuition for the way I want to live my life, my picture-perfect life (however, admittedly, with flaws - I'm not that idealistic).  But lately, there's been less depth in my introspection, if any at all (obviously, since I haven't updated my blog in forever).

My psychologist told me it's because I'm like a spoonful of peanut butter.  If I only had one slice of bread, I would sufficiently cover its surface.  But since it seems like I have several slices of bread, I'm hardly covering any surface at all.  I asked him, "Well, isn't that kind of the case with everyone?"  He responded with a nod, "Yes."  But then goes on to say, "Though only to an extent. You're a smaller spoonful of peanut butter."  I'm sure he didn't mean to make me sound inferior, but I sure felt more inferior!  What is so wrong with me that I couldn't be a larger spoonful of peanut butter?

He says there's nothing wrong with me, that I just have a deficit.  But to me, that deficit is worse than anything in the world.  Why?  Because I feel like I'm losing myself.  Though I've always prided myself in my careless goofiness, I prided myself in my ability to soul-search even more.  There hasn't really been any of that lately.  My "know thyself" development has come to a halt.  I feel so...shallow.

And shallowness is absolutely unacceptable to me.  In fact, I hate when people think I'm stupid or naive just because I like to be a jolly, energetic ball of cheer and laughter.  I hate when people think I'm incapable or not enough of a hard worker just because they take me solely at face value, not allowing themselves to really get to know me.  I hate being underestimated.  But I hate it all because I've always secretly acknowledged that I am shallow.  I'm shallow because when I decide to spread myself onto too many slices of bread, inadequacy results.  And yet, I insist on grabbing more bread, searching every corner for just one more slice.

And thus, my relentless accumulation of slices of bread induces me to lose myself.  It's kind of an agonizing process.  And that's really where my thoughts end.  I have nothing further to say about my current introspection.  Because I can't, because I'm shallow, because I'm worrying about too many slices of bread.  And I apologize for such an abrupt end.