What is Love?

I’m currently sitting at the beach, stomach full of supermarket sushi, a tall nonfat caramel macchiato sitting to my left, surfers in the cold water in front of me, and a view of the planes taking off from the airport to my right. I’m here looking for inspiration, all in pursuit of trying to answer one question: What is love?

Today marks the one month anniversary of the break-up. The hurt still remains but slowly fading away. The main reason why it all ended was that he didn’t fall in love with me in the three weeks that we were together. (There is a back story to this, but that's another story for another time.)

So, how does one fall in love? Does the “falling in love” part have a time line? I know every person is different, but isn’t there some kind of universal formula or sequence that happens?

Merriam-Webster defines love as:

1a (1) : strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties love for a child (2) : attraction based on sexual desire : affection and tenderness felt by lovers (3) : affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests love for his old schoolmates b: an assurance of affection love

2: warm attachment enthusiasm, or devotion (love of the sea)

(M-W gave seven more definitions of love, but we'll just keep it simple so everyone can read it..)

Ok, so the concept of love varies from person to person. How do you know you love someone? Does love happen when you touch someone and there’s a feeling that there’s nothing else in the world but you and that other person? If you constantly think about this person every day (and not in a stalker kind of way), does that mean you’re in love?

Then, when you think you’re in love, how do you know if that person is “the one”? I have a friend: very handsome, a professor, a chronic dater. He’s been chasing this idea of “the one” for 35 years. In his head, “the one” is someone he has some magical connection, something like you would see in the movies. I asked him if he ever came close to finding “the one.” He gave me this thinking look, then said that he probably did but never gave it chance because that magical connection wasn’t instantaneous. I then asked what if he never finds this magic. He got quiet again, then responded that he’ll accept the consequences. (A very politically correct answer.)

On the other side of the spectrum, if we find this love but you’re not 100% sure, do you settle? Do you give up on this right person and pick the person who isn’t so bad. Maybe there’s not that magic spark or he/she doesn’t challenge you, but at the end, this person makes you feel good. Do you settle because there’s that greater fear that you’ll end up alone in a house full of cats? (Ok, bad stereotype.)

I’ve decided that I’m in the middle. I want someone who will challenge me and there is that special connection. Will it always be magical? Maybe, maybe not. But at the end, I want someone who is good to me and makes me comfortable about myself. Is that too much to ask?!?!?!

Now, going back to this anniversary. I’ve accepted it. I can’t force a square peg to go through a round hole. Now, it’s time to move on and hope for the best. I can be like one of those “Sex in the City” girls who just dates half the city, thus increasing my chances. Or I’ll just start looking for a dog. (I’m allergic to cats.)

Ethnic Studies 1A

Story time!

I was sitting on the Spanish Steps in Rome on a sunny March afternoon people watching. I was writing in my journal when an older Italian man sat down next to me. I looked up and gave him a polite "buon giorno." He nodded then proceeded to stare at me. Then, the following conversation ensued:

Old man: Excuse me, where are you from?

Me: [smiling politely] America.

Old man: Huh? Where are you from?

Me: A-mer-i-ca.

Old man: No, no, no. WHERE ARE YOU FROM?

Me: China?

Old man: Ahhh. Your English is very good!

Me: [slightly confused] Thank you.

(And yes, I had to take a picture with this guy. His name was Giuseppe. We tried talking for an hour. He also wanted to take me out to dinner and promised me a place to stay somewhere along the Almalfi coast. I didn't take either offers.)

So, you're probably wondering now why I'm telling you this story. Here goes... I have had the chance to travel around the world. And where ever I went and get asked where I'm from, I would say about 95% of the time would look at me in disbelief after they hear my response.

While working in Japan, I received a complaint from a student saying that I wasn't a native English speaker because I didn't have blonde hair and blue eyes. So, if my black hair and small dark brown eyes don't make me an American, then what am I?

A few weeks ago, my latest adventure took me back to the motherland, a.k.a. mainland China. I honestly didn't know what to expect. I thought it would be somewhat familiar having grown up in what I thought was a traditional Chinese family within a Chinese community.

I would have to say that of all the places I've traveled to, this was the first time I ever really experienced 'culture shock.' I felt confusion, sadness, helplessness, with a sprinkling of negative stereotyping. I know, weird concept, huh? A Chinese girl shocked by the Chinese culture?! Granted, my first port of entry into the middle kingdom was Shanghai, not exactly known as the friendliest city in the world. A majority of them were rude, unwelcoming, and looked at me in disgust after they found out I couldn't speak Mandarin. Within a few days into the journey, I had already made a joke to a friend saying that after meeting the Shanghainese, I no longer wanted to be Chinese.

As I made my way around the country, the shock slowly eased, but that feeling of not belonging was always still there.

The friend I was traveling with made a comment while we were waiting for a boat to arrive. We noticed about 5-6 guys squatting (as if they were on a squatty-potty) and talking to each other. He laughed in disbelief that they were sitting like so and said they looked like monkeys. At that time, I laughed with him in agreement, mainly because I was frustrated with my cultural identity crisis. But later on, the more I thought about it, that joke he made was really an insult to the men (and to me). It's just how they sit and it's normal! I know he didn't mean it as such and I didn't tell him that I was offended (but wish I did). It just put more questions into my head as to who I really am.

And now, here I am, confused as ever. My travels around the world has opened up my eyes to all the different kinds of people that are out there, and yet, the one culture I thought I could identify the most turned out to be the most complicated of all.

So, to answer the question, who am I? I am who I am. I have black hair, brown eyes, a bit squishy in between. I am Chinese on the outside, American with some Chinese in the inside. But at the end, I'm still the same as everyone else, a human being.