It's quite bizarre to think that I had to turn eighteen to become so interested in my culture. Growing up with memories of wanting to have been born a different colour, of thinking that in order to be 'cool' I should try to associate myself with Anglo-Saxon caucasians as much as possible is a somewhat embarrassing recall.
I've always thought it was petty and useless to try and direct yourself towards a certain specific end-goal; so all I can really say is right here right now all I really want is reconnect with my heritage. I used to barely speak any coherent Chinese at home, but now it's all I try to do. My watch list is full of Chinese serials (hello Voice of China) and movies, I find myself enjoying my brutally accelerated Chinese course at uni...
Don't get me wrong, plunging myself into things like this is somewhat cruel (cue self-pity), but I think au bout du compte it's been a long time coming.
PS. I had to snitch the above photo of maybe my second-favourite place in the world, check out the photographer's flickr feed though (living vicariously through photos is probably the only thing I can manage right now)