Slowly changing identity

I am realizing that I am switching more and more to considering myself primarily a TCK, simply because it's easier. I can point to concerns in my life and say "Oh, it comes up from time to time for most TCKs" or "It's common for TCKs to feel that way". I can't say that very much for any other identity. Seen in terms of national identities (although I without a doubt retain them to some extent - I feel addressed when people speak of "my" countries), I am never typical of anything and I'm always somehow in the fringes - oh, look, another common property of TCKs.

In addition, this apartment and what it contains and why it's there puts me face to face with my need for the third culture. Next to my laptop is a pint glass with Paulaner, and my Paulaner is delicious and it makes me feel connected to... myself, really. European (especially German and English) beer is my beer. Clearly, in my apartment there should be my beer, not someone else's beer. There is a small tier of lucky bamboo on my end table, because lucky bamboo can be bought in our supermarket and it sits on our coffee table in spring. There are modern birch bookcases and a modern birch desk, because our houses and our apartments were always decorated with modern furniture, like most people's. There is a laughing Buddha, because it reminds me of dad. There is a scroll with a poem about long life that I bought downtown. My plates and utensils are some of the pinnacles of national design.

You see, when I say "in our supermarket," I mean Yansha Wangjing Wholesale Warehouse in Beijing. When I look at my lucky bamboo, I see something from Beijing - from home - not something I bought at Lowe's looking for something else. I see something from our family home that is also in mine - a tradition of sorts. Similarly, when I say "downtown", I mean "downtown Beijing." But it feels so close by when I look at the scroll. And when I say "national design," I mean "Finnish national design." I have the same plates as we did in Europe, the plates that my mother insisted on having. All these things make me feel closer to some other part of the world or something that is far away. I have pieces of everything in my apartment, and that's why it feels like home. And that really should tell me - or anyone else - that where I really feel at home is the third culture.

It's just that I've spent 19 years of my life before knowing what a TCK was thinking I was from one country or another. It's taking some time to fully realize that I am, in fact, a rather typical TCK. I realized this quickly upon reading about it, but emotionally, the realization hasn't set in quite as fast. I think it's starting to sink in now, three years later.