Jimmy Yang - How to American

Being a series regular on a hit television show was beyond my wildest dreams. My very first acting coach, Caryn West, told us to write down the biggest goals we had and put them away in a box. Then we’d revisit it every six months to see if we could cross off any of these goals. With Silicon Valley, I was finally able to cross out a few of them.

Become a series regular on a TV show

Stop driving Uber

Get my own apartment

It felt great to accomplish something so unbelievable, but I didn’t feel any different. I might be at the same buffet line as Bryan Cranston, but I still felt like the guy who was rejected by the agent at the apartment rental office. I was still the same guy with the same problems. My parents’ attitudes hadn’t changed. My friend asked my dad during dinner once:

“Isn’t it great that Jimmy is on a TV show? He’s doing so well.”

“Yes, he’s doing good. But I still wish he was a scientist,” my dad unapologetically said right in front of my face.

“Why?” Jeremy pushed for more answers when I would have quit while I was just slightly behind.

“Scientist is always more respectable than an artist,” my dad explained in a matter-of-fact way, as if that was the universal truth. I guess it is the truth in Chinese culture, which is the only universe he knows.

The first time I showed my mom a scene from Silicon Valley, she said:

“Jimmy, how many times do I have to tell you, don’t hunch your back.”

“Mom, this is acting, I’m playing a character.”

“Can you play a character that stands up straight? You look weak.” I gave up trying to explain myself. Nothing has changed.

I used to think being on TV meant I’d be living like the stars on MTV’s Cribs in a mansion with three Ferraris, a pet tiger in the backyard and models lining up in front of my house waiting to date me. Nope. I still drive a Prius, I still use Tinder and I still dwell in a one-bedroom apartment, which is already a massive upgrade from living with Tarrell with Guam in my closet. I get recognized once in a while at the local bowling alley and I get a free beer if I’m lucky. Fans often come up to me and ask, “Are you Jian Yang?” I don’t mind being called Jian Yang, but I have noticed there’s always a hesitation when they ask me that question. Because if I wasn’t the guy who played Jian Yang and I was just some random Asian guy, they would look super racist. I’m sure there were other Asians who were asked that question, and they had to respond, “Not all Asian people look alike, you asshole.”

Then some people are shocked when they find out I sound nothing like Jian Yang:

“Oh my God, we love Silicon Valley! We didn’t even know you speak English in real life. We thought that was your real accent!”

I bet nobody ever said to Johnny Depp, “We love Pirates of the Caribbean ! We thought you were a pirate in real life!”

The majority of people who watch Silicon Valley are dudes. Ninety-five percent of girls who have come up to me always say:

“Oh my God! My boyfriend is a huge fan of Silicon Valley! Can I take a picture with you? It’ll make him so happy!”

Sure, I’ll make your boyfriend’s day .

Meanwhile, I was still trying to find myself a girlfriend on Tinder. It’s pretty awkward to be a quasi-celebrity on Tinder. Some girls don’t believe it’s really me. I mean, who the hell would use my picture as their fake profile picture? That’s counterproductive. The girls who do believe it’s me would always message me Jian Yang quotes from Silicon Valley . Most of their messages start with:

“I eat the fish!”

I used to think, It’s a clear sign that she’s into me if she’s a fan of the show. I used to reply with some small talk like, “What’s your favorite sushi restaurant?” Or another line from the show like, “What about garbage?” Yes, it was super lame. And I’ve since learned to not engage with someone who matched with me only because I’m on TV.

I once took this Tinder girl out to a dinner date. She was a very attractive girl from Orange County who had mentioned she was a big fan of Silicon Valley . My naïveté led me to believe that I was in for the win. We chitchatted about life and she asked me a few questions about working on Silicon Valley. She seemed like a sweet girl who was genuinely curious about my career. I swiped my credit card and threw down a 30 percent tip like I was a series regular on Everybody Loves Raymond. Then I smoothly asked her:

“Do you want to grab a drink after this?”

She said. “Let’s go back to your place.”

Wow, being on a TV show IS some kind of magical aphrodisiac.

When we hopped into my 2006 Prius, I felt like I needed to explain why I wasn’t driving a Ferrari: “This thing gets like fifty miles a gallon.” I wanted her to think that maybe I could totally afford a Ferrari but I chose to drive a Prius because I’m a hero who cares about the environment. I took the more roundabout scenic route in the neighborhood where we passed by fancy multimillion-dollar mansions before we finally arrived at my shabby apartment. The old metal garage gate at my apartment complex swung open and I turned the radio up to cover up the rusty creak. “I love this song!” I yelled over the newest Ariana Grande single. When we got to my place, I asked her:

“Do you want something to drink?”

And she said. “Let’s go to your bedroom.”

Holy shit! This being on TV thing is really fucking awesome!

She followed me into my room. Then she said:

“Can I look in your closet?”

Okay, maybe celebrities are supposed to have sex in the closet, I’m down to try something new.

So I showed her to my closet. It was filled with unimpressive clothes from Ross, but at least there wasn’t a dude named Guam sleeping in there. She didn’t say a word and started to shuffle through the clothes. I wasn’t sure where this was going anymore. So I joked:

“Are you looking for a new outfit?”

She turned around and we locked eyes. This was my moment. I leaned in for the kiss. And she pushed me away like Emmitt Smith viciously stiff-arming a linebacker.

“Woah! I think you got the wrong idea,” she said.

Wrong idea?! You invited yourself back to my place. Then into my bedroom! What idea was I supposed to have?!

I was completely stumped. Then she said:

“I just wanted to see how you lived and what you have in your closet. But maybe I should go.”

What is that supposed to mean? See how I lived and what I have in my closet? What kind of sick shit is that? What is this, an episode of MTV Cribs ?!

I was beyond confused. I guess she literally just wanted to see what I had in my closet? Maybe she was an aspiring costume designer? Maybe my car and apartment weren’t baller enough for her? Or maybe she was just a crazy person. She left and I never went out with a Silicon Valley fan from Tinder again.

Like most people in this world, I thought achieving my goals would solve all my life’s problems. It didn’t change much at all. There’s satisfaction in achievement, but the excitement is in the chase. Looking back, some of the happiest times of my life were working at the Comedy Palace for minimum wage, folding envelopes with Tarrell and Guam. Even though none of us had any money, we had a great time just hanging out. I was so poor I would go into the kitchen and sneak out leftover prime rib with a side of beef barley soup. Once a fortnight, the comedians went to Denny’s after the shows; that was our special treat. I had to save up to get a ten-dollar Moons Over My Hammy at Denny’s, but that ham sandwich meant something to me. I earned it by doing what I loved and it tasted just as good as the salmon at the Golden Globes party. One night after the Comedy Palace shows, Tarrell, Guam, our comedian friend Jason Lawhead and I were chopping it up over a grand slam breakfast at two in the morning.