Hi. Let's go back to 1993.
I've realized that on an Independence Day long ago, it was likely the first time I really started thinking about my interest in Asian culture. Just like this year, it was a Sunday, and I always hated Sundays. But this particular Sunday morning, I decided to make a change. It was that wonderful time just before sunrise, I was watching a rerun of a TV show favorite, it was warm, no school, no homework the next day--there was nothing for me to be upset about. I decided to focus on what I really wanted--what made me really independent. I looked out toward the west, wondering what it was. I stared into the neighboring area: Chinatown. There was something about it that intrigued me, but I realized there was something beyond China, a different culture nearby. Unfamiliar nostalgia began to fill my head, almost as if I knew what the country was, but at the same time, I didn't. Looking back, I was imagining the culture that gave me origami, pictures of rising suns, huge tidal waves--I was thinking about Japan. As the sun rose, I gained my independence.