One awesome thing about celebrating Lunar New Year is that it’s usually a second chance at my failed Solar New Year goals. Usually — with exception of 2016, in which I ushered in Solar New Year with peace and meditation. And in which I ushered in Lunar New Year with a pounding hangover.
At the eve of the Lunar New Year, I’d had too much to drink when talking to a white guy at a bar. “Happy New Year,” I said to him.
“Happy New Year?” he asked. “Didn’t it pass awhile ago?” I politely explained that it was Lunar New Year, which is “more important to me than the solar New Year.”
“Why?” he said, attempting a joke. “Is it because you feel so connected with the moon?”
Losing my sobriety and patience, I gave him a barely-restrained version of my death glare.
“No. I’m Korean.”