So basically, I’m Asian.

And though that was a mere sentence fragment, I’m still Asian in the way that I probably act Asian without anyone noticing, and I’m guessing it is probably ten thousand degrees of exasperation my friends have to deal with whenever we all hang out at the mall, etc.

I mean, it’s hard sometimes, you know (can’t you tell when I’m using ‘etc.’ in everyday writing?)? Because whenever I try to explain how Aristotle’s praxes and Hegel’s praxes are different in psychology class –because it’s just so interesting to us Asians because after years of having Asian parents and scary Asian rituals, one learns that learning how the human mind works is the only way to outwit the Asian Parentals –I get strange looks. And that is when I start wondering if it’s because my eyeliner is all smudged and my eyes look slantier than ever.

Not that ‘slantier’ is a word, or that this is a complete sentence, but I’m just pointing that out for your convenience.

I’m Asian, remember?

And that’s what Asians do.

We spell-check, grammar-check, and worship calculators, which are like, the new abacus, duh, and we dress in skinny blue jeans and bright American Eagle tops, except that it should be called Asian Eagle because it’s a given fact that all Asians get their clothes there.

Honestly, how else would we layer our clothes with mantic accuracy?

Excuse my seemingly large vocabulary, but that’s just how it is.

You see, there are quite a few groups of Asians, besides our usual flavors –Chinese, Japanese, Korean, Vietnamese, etc. (here I go with the ‘etc.’s again; ) –we come in packs of the Style Coordinated, the Stereotypical Nerd, the Taiwanese Lee Hom Fans, and the Asian Jock a.k.a. Next Yao Ming.

And because of our varied cliques and groups, we have a large influence on everyday life.

Contraband materials?

Go to Chinatown and just take a look at the DVDs there.

I mean, how else would Lee Hom be so popular with pubescent teenage hormonal PMS-ing Asian girls?

If one looks at the masses of the Asian population, one could go absolutely mad.

We have foods that contain ingredients no one could ever think up of. Honestly, halvah doesn’t even compare to any of our desserts. Our egg tarts, our greasy buns, our tapioca bubble tea with their sapid explosions of flavors all beat honey and sesame seeds any day.

And we’re healthy.

Though there is a small Asian group known as the Asian Couch Potato Boys Who Play Video Games All Day, there is also a small Asian collection of quite attractive males who, like the Epicurians that I studied in early middle school and somehow still remember because I am so Asian like that, find ataraxia to be the pinnacle of life.

Meditation and getting up at five o’clock in the morning are always worth it for them, though everything they do never constitute just enough for a lick and a promise, which is usually a death sentence for such Procrastinating Asians.

That’s probably why I don’t have a boyfriend yet, though I have inherited the Asian gene for thinness.

And yet, though I am also a member of Average Asian Girls who Have Read the Dictionary in Their Free Time and Thus Know the Meaning of Serendipity, which apparently means making lucky finds by accident or without a purpose, the Asian Zeitgeist of today would tell me that just because I don’t have a bowl cut doesn’t mean I shouldn’t brush my hair at all or look in the mirror when I start color-coordinating. It’s hard though, so I’ll just let that slide till tomorrow.

Honestly, I may be Asian and I may have the flattened semilunar nose and I may come with a taste for Asian rock and good grades, but I’m guessing that at some point, I’m going to have to put all Asian-ness aside and actually face the world.

But then again, I’m Asian.

I’ll make it.