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It was a weekend in Hong Kong last September. My aunt, second uncle and his family were all with me, in his apartment, talking away about my life, college and everything else. It was then where I decided to bring up the topic of Tibet and Taiwan.

The first lesson you learn about going to China is that of all the topics you discuss, Tibet and Taiwan, among other governmental and cultural discussion is absolutely off limits, no matter how logical or meaningful you sound. You can have the best argument in the world, and make absolutely no sense in the eyes of a Chinese person because you are trespassing on their nationalistic heritage.

"No argument. Tibet is part of China", as my aunt told me aggressively after I posed the seemingly innocent question.

"What about the roots of history?" I inquired back.

Not even history, no matter how logical and systematic, could convince my aunt to say anything otherwise, even on the issue of Tibet. In leveraging her beliefs on mine, she asked why Britain couldn't just come back and annex the United States: after all, both speak English.

In the end, they were right. I got a talk from my mother.

Since that fateful five minute conversation, I have taken a long look at who exactly I am. On the surface, the label is simple: Chinese-American (or Asian-American, whichever you please) However, while the genetics may dictate that I am Asian, and while the background indicates that I am Chinese, there is without a doubt that I am indeed more American, than Chinese.

The consensus is simple. You can certainly ask yourself why I am writing this note, and be as ignorant as I may be, such an issue never really occurred to me until I returned from studying abroad.

In spending four months in Hong Kong, a summation of the aforementioned event, as well as getting myself involved in Chinese culture from a true Chinese point of view has told me, that while my genetics may indicate that I am of Chinese descent, I am truly not all that much. I am rather, Chinese-American, as the obvious would indicate, with the American aspect of me bigger than Chinese.

This may seem like a slap to the face for my Chinese counterparts, but such is certainly not. Ask those around me, and they will tell you that a mention of anything against China will illicit a response from me that's less than favorable. I am indeed proud of the 5,000 years, numerous accomplishments and economic gain that the country has made in the last score. Suffice to say, while I can associate myself with the culture, I cannot call myself fully 100 percent.

So where does this leave me? Am I Chinese, or am I American? The label is one thing, but for myself, I think I label myself neither, but rather a conglomerate of everything around here. My closest friends after all, are Indian, Bulgarian, Bangladeshi, part German/Peruvian, Japanese and everything in between. As for myself? I'm probably the most whitewashed Chinese person you could ever meet with the most fluent Chinese -- I do not listen to Chinese music, watch Chinese movies or really watch Chinese soaps. However, I pay attention to what goes on in the mainland.

In the end, what is to be learned from this? Am I ungrateful? You could interpret that way, though I disagree. Am I confused? Hardly. My viewpoint on this is that after spending four months abroad, I have come to the conclusion that I am more multicultural than anything, an international blend so to say. A part of me is American, and a part of me is Chinese, but only by association. I feel like in the environment that I've grown up in, the only choice here is to be multicultural, and nothing else.

What do you think?

Before the great Buddha became his form that we know of him today, he was much like the rest of us, not in the sense that he toted a laptop computer and wondered what he was going to major in, but that he was young, selfish and didn't understand what life was truly about. He after all, had all that he wanted, being in a rich family, and was not presented the truth of life when he finally wandered out of the palace, only to set foot and see what he thought was the unthinkable: a poor beggar.

A similar tale begs a similar fate in the story of Aladdin. While we are sucked into the cuteness of Apu and the novelty of the genie and his powers, we seem to forget the tale of reality rears its ugly head in this story as well. Much like the aforementioned Buddha, Jasmine lives a wonderfully cozy life, complimented with lions in the courtyard and a father who hopes her for the best. It is not until she wanders out onto the street and watches Aladdin pull off one of his stunts where she finally learns that life isn't the same outside of the palace.

When young Bruce Wayne falls into the well and breaks some bones during a mad dash from his sister, his father asks: “Bruce, why do we fall?” The answer: So we can pick ourselves back up.” In his future endeavors as Batman, Bruce would do much falling, and he would do much picking up as well as he tries to save Gotham City from the crimes that plague its city.

Where one story became religion, another becomes a superhero story, and another became a Disney classic lumped together with adventure and a love story, all tell the same story of an individual who wanders out of their cocoon and got more than they bargained for. All tales follow a coming-of-age moment, where one finally realizes that there is a society outside of the comfort of parents, and there is more to the world than meets the eye. All tales follow the journey of growing up, growing older, overcoming adversity, and becoming wiser.

As children of parents, well of or not, we are no different. All of us begin life on the same innocent path, and as we are introduced and influenced by many factors, our innocence slowly strips away. We can dream about the green grassy fields that Don Henly sings about, or yearn for yesterday like the Beatles do, but our only path is the one in front of us, branching into many paths, leaving us confused, bewildered, overwhelmed, and scrambling for cover. We get our first big taste of this going away to college, experiencing life on our own, getting through the drunken nights, marathon study sessions and late night conversations that bring bloom to an entirely new identity. And so with these experiences, we become more enlightened like Buddha, and like Jasmine, we see that not everything comes so easily, as it once did. And like the both of them, we enter our own journeys, armed with our own tools, and ready to get stronger.

I've always thought that we lived life to dodge its many curve balls. Very rarely are we thrown fastballs down the middle – if life were an easy home run hack, there would be no point, at least in my estimation. We always hope for the free run, or lunch, if you will. But alas, there is no such thing: That free slurpee you just drank? Or perhaps the free Ben and Jerry's Cone? Someone had to pay for that, even if you didn't have to.

My own journey on the other hand, is one for the making. With every passing moment, and subsequent reflection, the approaching of study abroad only deepens my thinking for the journey I will experience there. I find myself ever more anxious by the day, and I do wonder what is becoming me. Yes, its only 130 or so days, but what can't kill you, can really only make you stronger, or so they tell us when you enlist for the army. So it goes, another one of the aforementioned curve balls.

The biggest thing that will happen for me these next four months, I feel, is learning to understand and appreciate the bond I have with other people, whether they be family, close friends, and close acquaintances. For the lot of my life, I've never really understood the interactions I've had with others. They exist, but once everything is stripped clean, I'm usually left to wonder what anything means to me. And so it is, with four months away, that I will learn so much more about myself, and fall. As of right now, the only direction I can really see is up. I've fallen so much for just myself in my ineptitudes that the only way to see is higher, not lower.

They say change is difficulty, and admittedly, its probably the hardest thing that any of us will encounter in our lives. The challenge of change is not something someone takes voluntarily, but rather, the challenge is mandatory, as each and every one of us are faced with our own daunting task. For me, its the understanding of people and the daily battles between me and my mind, an ongoing battle that I hope to someday overcome and win. And for me, the sooner the better: but I must be patient.

In the 120 days I am gone, I will refuse to forget those who made me to who I am. I will refuse to forget those whom I've shared early morning conversations, late night discussions laying and looking up at my bed, and those whom I've shared a large pizza. I accept that travel will change me – whether it be in sickness or learning, but I will not accept changing to forget, an excuse that has all too plagued me in the past.

What differs between us, Bruce Wayne, Buddha, and Aladdin is very little. All of us have something in common with these three: We struggle, and we fight our own battles within, and continue to fight them. Likewise, as Bruce Wayne was asked, we should all ask ourselves: Why do we fall?

The answer fittingly is always, so that we too, can pick ourselves up again – and all that, is being part of the journey.