FRO 2012: BWA

I am not normal.  I have an unseen ridiculous sense of humor that most people don’t get, and I’m a pretty sure Akhtarul thinks I have Tourette’s or some serious condition because of the way I constantly say his name.  I’m a small suburban kid living in the most amazing city in the world, and I’m a person who despises the lack of ethics in business, yet attends one of the best business schools in the area.

I have the greatest amount of difficulty telling someone where I come from, on several levels.  To start with my ethnicity, my Dad is part Burmese, Indian, Portuguese, and Dutch. My Mother is English, German, Italian, and Austrian. So that makes a whole mess of the old and new age Aryan races; all compiled into one dude….me. I’ve been mistaken as Dominican, Hawaiian, Brazilian, Greek, Mexican, Native American; the whole nine yards and then a few more.  On top of that I tell people I live in Connecticut but I commute to a NYC school, which brings on even more confusion.  I am a foreign-looking kid who was nurtured in a rich conservative township.  I seem to act so very different than anyone I have ever encountered.  I am almost 20 years old, yet I am a freshman in college.  I am small, yet remarkably athletic.  I am focused on academics and athletics, yet I enjoy what they like to call “binge” drinking on the weekends.  I have pretty exceptional people skills, yet I can be really awkward if I try. I think you guys get it.  And please accept my disclaimer that I don’t intend to be self-centered in the manner I speak about all of this.

My favorite question in the world is “why?”  Not in the manner of the irksome second grader, but more along the lines of a deep, though provoking hunt for unseen answers, waiting to be unveiled.  My philosophy is that there is an answer or multiple answers for every question we can ask.  Saying, “oh, that’s impossible,” is just a cop-out for people who don’t want to spend the time or energy on problem solving.

All of these oxymoronic dualities in my life spawned some sort of identity crisis that I had to get to the bottom of.  Not necessarily a crisis, but an extensive pondering about myself.  Who am I, how did I get here, where do I come from, and where am I expected to go?  The investigation was on.  Luckily, I came upon some answers in my father’s native land, Burma.  For about three weeks last winter, I spent my time on tours, in hotels, and traveling from sight to sight, city to city.  I quickly realized that I was not seeing the truths of this place.  I needed to escape the perspective of the tourist, which someone had unjustly predetermined for me.  Equipped with my longboard, I escaped into the city.  I spent time with children, farmers, city workers, and the old and wise.  I found that they all appreciated the interactions, and were fixated on the words, “Made in California” written on my board.  When they realized it was bamboo, it gave them a good chuckle, as bamboo is so abundant in the region.  Most importantly, they were beyond appreciative of my efforts to speak the native language, which I had a knack for.  The word for thanks literally translated to, “I am forever in debt to you.” Hospitality was a must in these parts.  At every relative’s house, food was stuffed in my face.  I was lucky enough to endeavor in a round of golf, during which four caddies assisted me all at once.  I recorded all of these findings in a journal.  I titled it: “There and Back Again; A Young Man’s Journey to the Lands of Myanmar and the Realm of Profound Thought.”  One hell of a title, eh? I had quite the time, dressing up in my preppy New England attire, getting massages and exploring the third world by day, while putting beers on the hotel tab and recording my discoveries by the poolside at night.  Let me share with you a quick excerpt.  (Reads Excerpt).

I could certainly sit here for several hours, lecturing you all about my findings.  However, that it not my style, for I must be brief and conclusive.  The answers to all my riddles were far more understandable than I could have imagined.  They were a presentation of the facts.  I drew so many parallels between the way I act in American society, and the natural tendencies of the Burmese people.  There it was.  I had Burmese ideals, shaped by the elitist society that I grew up in.  To this day, I am proud to have the best of both worlds; a full spectrum of view.  I’ve been here, there, up and down, as there is far more to my story that I am capable of explaining.  For one thing, I am definitely not normal.  But what is normality.  It became obvious that being different was normality in itself.  I have been shaped and molded into the human being they call Jon Hla, a title that I have grown to love for what it contains.  I have learned to embrace instead of question, without failing to continue the intricate thinking processes that I so enjoy.  Not all my questions have been solved.  I always continue to ask who I am in attempt to prevent myself from slipping away, in the manner of a checks and balances system.  Further, I have not established where I am expected to go, or where I want to go.  Sure I have an end game, but the middle is what brings about the most anxiety.  “Who will I be?” is another outstanding question.  Each experience I will have by the day will shape me to be more different than any other human being, yet more relatable at the same time.  It is quite interesting to me how we represent the culmination of people and events that come and pass in our lives.  Sure, sometimes I do wish I put a cap on all of this excessive postulating, but I have truly derived the most happiness in life by scribing witty remarks, profound thought, and ridiculous situations on pen and paper.