The Autobiography

What do you write in an autobiography? What significant events can you choose to write about that you believe to shape who you are today? Do events and circumstances and situations define a part of you? What do you choose to write about? I don’t think I’m the next Britney Spears, nor am I worthy of superior recognition, so what events is important enough to be written about and to be read by others. Autobiographies are easier for people like Obama, for artists, for those who have a beautiful story to tell. My life story is unfinished and I believe it to have barely started. I think that’s one of the main reasons why I choose to travel, why I chose to challenge myself and go across the world to Vietnam. Often times, my biggest battle with myself is the fact that I have no purpose in my life. Sure, I attend a university. Sure, I’ve accomplished the standards that society has set. But what have I done? What have I dedicated my time to that meant something? I often wonder what makes a person a remarkable idol and what makes them normal, the average Joe?
There are many lessons that I have learned in life. Some, challenging, some, not so challenging. There are some lessons I am proud to learn, some I am not. Generally, as I get older I realize the difficulties of reality. I learned to see the negative side of life and many say that’s a part of growing up. Why, I can’t continue to live life and believe in fantasies and a dream world where everyone loves each other and they are good. Growing up, to me, is learning how to not fight the system but to assimilate and become a master of the system.
I choose to explain my life story in lessons that I have learned.
Lesson # 1
I am an American citizen because of one reason.
I am an American citizen because my parents risked their lives, choosing to abandon a nation where their rights and freedom were infringed and making the journey to America. Spending some time at a refugee camp in Malaysia , they were moved to Chicago, United States of America. This nation, blessed with miracles. My parents lived off of canned meat, church meals and clothes, and poverty. My dad hiked to school in snow up to his knees at night while working as a janitor in the day to accomplish a life that American promised. Together, mom and dad worked for years to save up and have me. This is the American Dream, right?
Lesson # 2
I am a Vietnamese American.
Growing up, I had to learn what it meant to be an American that wasn’t white. I remember pretending to be someone I wasn’t. The younger I was, the more the Asian race was looked down upon. I wanted to wear blue contacts lens. I wanted blonde hair. I wanted to blend in with everyone else. Yup… why don’t we call this dilemna, the identity issue. I was angry that I had to speak Vietnamese at home, when I couldn’t master English the way my friends could. How glad I am that my father did what he did. I am so glad that I can speak the language as broken as it may be.
Lesson # 3
I am a Vietnamese American and I want to be accepted.
Middle school years was all about being accepted. I wanted to be popular and cool. I switched from playing the flute to be apart of a dance team because that was what made me popular. I reminisce about the purity at the age I still had because pretty soon, I would enter high school. I remembered the attitude I would give my mother as she asked how my day at school was. I remembered being a typical teen that was embarrassed of their parents and of their background. As far as I was concerned, my background was just not cool enough. Of course, I find out that my background was not only cool enough, it shaped who I was. My background told of a story of people who fought for the very freedom I had for free. My parents were heroes to not only me, but to the sacred Vietnamese people.
Lesson # 4
I am a Vietnamese American and I am curious.
High school was the curious stage for me. All I was into was experimenting and satisfying my curiosity. I tried surfing. I played waterpolo and did varsity swimming for four years. I was president of my class for a couple of years. I was working part time jobs since I was 15. I considered my home to be restrictive and thus, did everything to spend the most time away. Now I look back and I miss that time. I miss family dinners that I felt that I was forced to go to. Activities were not the only things I tried, I tried all the drugs that I was curious about. Thank god I never tried them again. I don’t really like them, I figured. Senior year, I find out that I got turned down to all the universities I applied to; UCLA, UC Berkley, UC San Diego, and USC. I had a 4.2 GPA, top 10 % , activities galore, leadership skills. 1800 SAT 32 ACT. From this point, I downgraded. I downgraded from being a student, from being interested. I sulk myself into partying and drinking and not attending classes. This continued at the university I was guaranteed admission to. UC Santa Barbara. Freshmen year, I was still in this angry mentality. I fucking worked my fucking ass off and got nothing in return. Fuck this system. So there I was , at the end of my first year of college with a 2.1 GPA. And then I started to question myself… who am I? Am I a person who fails? What do I want to do with my life?
Lesson # 5
And then I started.
And then I started to grow up. I started to get my act together and set up new goals. I know I want to get my masters in business administration. I want to be apart of the sports world marketing team. Eventually, I want to earn money and open my own business. But this is not just about me. My parents are getting old and their health is declining. I have not only them to return the favor, but my two younger sisters. I tried to figure out what was my ultimate goal… what was my passion. I want to travel. And so I traveled.
Lesson # 6
I traveled through Eastern Europe and then to Vietnam.
I struggled to get my life back on track my sophomore year. I got a job and started taking school seriously. How amazing your grades got when you start to study and go to class. I needed to meet the GPA requirement to go to Vietam. At this point, I felt ashamed that I failed my freshmen year. Ashamed.
I wanted to see Europe. This summer me and my boyfriend backpacked. There was no luxurious hotels and no fantastic upscale dinner but there was me , him, and a different culture in different countries to experience. And here, I learned one of the most important lessons. I learned what traveling does to a person. How it broadens ones minds. How it changes certain perspectives on things.
Lessons # 7
And then I was Alone in a Third World Country.
I hated Vietnam. I hated everything about it. Here I was in the country of my mother tongue and I could not understand anything , nor was I accepted. I am a foreigner.
Here, I hope to answer
1. what Is communism?
2. How has it changed since the 1960
3. What has the market economy transitioned into the country?
4. How is the way of life for the Vietnamese changing and migrating?
5. Who the fuck I am?
6. Can I still be me without my boyfriend?