If you were to ask someone from the office to pick three words that best describe me it would be these. It makes me see just how strangely I translate to US soil.

Uptight. (Also, much too serious.)

I am, I guess. In a funny way, people's perceptions of me have skewed to become this: uptight and serious. I guess it's because this is the most serious I've ever been in my whole life. And that seriousness is all they have on which to base their opinions of the kind of person that I am.

No one here has ever seen me chug beer at 4 in the afternoon. (No one here has ever seen me chug beer, period.) No one here has ever seen me laugh like I'm having an epileptic seizure, or cut class because of a hangover, or steal street signs, or goof off on anything. And even though I smile a lot, I know they can see the distance I've put between them and me. They don't know me, or where I've come from, or what it took for me to get here. And I really can't be bothered to enlighten them, because honestly, I just don't see the point.

All they see is this incredible aura of, well, seriousness. Probably beause I am serious. And worried. I've never been this serious or worried before. Ever. I mean, I'm trying to live life on my terms and chase the dream and all that, but I know that I also need to reconcile my ideals with the more mundane things, like paying my rent, income, financial independence, retirement, etc - issues that I'm only really facing for the first time.


Introverted. (Also, quiet and pensive.)

I have a hunch that the reason I don't seem to talk very much here is because people here don't seem to talk about very much.

They have made such an art of "small talk". It's such a mastered craft here that it has become their staple. Their conversations all seem to be extended bits of small talk occasionally punctuated by rants and raves -- monologues, if you will -- that make them seem to believe that they are in deep conversation with another. In point of fact, this supposed "other", having blocked the first talker out, is already neck-deep in a monologue of his own (whether secretly or openly).

Leaving both participants to flop ignorantly in half conversations with no one but their own selves.


Asian chick.

This shouldn't bother me, but it somehow does. I actually do sometimes mind being referred to as Asian. I have nothing against being Asian per se, it's just I can't help think that it seems to be another box for me to be put in. In Manila, I was part of the majority, my ethnicity was mainstream, and since it was so mainstream, it blended into the background. It wasn't important. Here, I'm suddenly exotic. My asian-ness is called to the fore. I'm categorized by it, defined by it, it's suddenly a huge part of who I am. At least to everyone else.

I guess the problem is I've never really defined myself as Asian. I mean, obviously on one level I've always known I was Asian, but it's not something I've thought of in depth. I've never really thought of what it means to be Asian in the same way that I've thought of what it means to be Filipino. Or a girl. Or an aspiring writer. Or even an Atenean. I just never thought about it as an integral part of my being, and now suddenly, that label is the one that's continuously shoved in my face.

***
Yes, only these three. None of the adjectives I'd pick to describe myself even came up. That saddens me somehow.