According to Grey and Tina, my chinese name is supposed to be read like this: PAN ZHE XI. This is how it looks like.

Of course, saying it is fine. Writing it is plainly a pain in the ass.

PAN is supposed to be my surname, which really amounts to nothing except it sounds a little like my real surname. ZHE means Philosopher. XI means rare. Hanep. Pag binasa ng tunay na pilipinong bisayang bata (disclaimer: no grudges against visayans, just stressing a point), parang Dye-si. JC. Galing talaga.

Ang galing. Di naman ako chinese. *laughs*

Tina’s thesis-mate asked me yesterday if I was chinese. She was apparently the principal of a chinese school in Wack-wack. Not even a little bit chinese? she asks. Yeah, sure. No secret handshake but there’s a bloodline prerequisite.

So I’m thinking of a good excuse to bring up everytime someone asks me some question like that again. Although my Lola was half chinese, I didn’t inherit anything remotely chinese (No, affinity with Meteor Garden telenovelas is Taiwanese, you dork), so I’ll just invent things up: my dad and my mom were half chinese, but they had to change their surname because they wanted to naturalize. Pagtakhan. Formed from the name “Han,” which is our real chinese name (which suspiciously sounds Jap). My dad hated his parents so he left home to go to the Phils with my mother. At this point I’d have to cry so I won’t have to disclose anything to the listener. Then I’d say that I was really chinita, except my dad had my eyes surgically fixed so I’d lose my chinese traces. Yep. He hated his parents THAAAT much. (my grandparents ripped off his Marlon Brando poster for insubordination which pissed him off, big time) Which also explains why I didn’t learn any Mandarin words. Nor do I have a chinese name. I also took some pills to condition my skin to look like I’m Filipina-tanned.

Heh heh. Good enough, no? Now call any chinese principal and I’d willingly retell this anytime.