Summer, Berkeley, and Indian Boys..

I think summertime is when i dwell on the state of preciousness. No deadlines and not many obligations that need to immediately be fulfilled, so thus I keep stupidly perfecting the art of wasting time and waiting out the idea of action, because if it isn't going to be great or worth it, then it isn't going to be.

Berkeley and San Fran
On a different note, I returned home yesterday from a fun weekend in Berkeley, CA. It was nice to be away from the coccoon-like atmosphere of my small town. I stayed with my friend Neyha, and found that the socializing nearly always gravitated to a food source. We tried indian fast food at Vik's and House of Curries, sushi at Tako Sushi, numerous pearl teas at the "asian ghetto," and a hearty breakfast at Durant Cafe. I met some of her Indian friends, and we visited the Berkeley Art Museum (BAM!), which had a contemporary indian art exhibit.
The beauty of this trip was to get to see what I am experiencing differently at my little art school of 1,500. The college at Berkeley is a monstrosity, with 30,000+ students. There was no chance in running into anyone i knew unless prior plans were made. There is so much opportunity to meet someone new here, and also to meet someone not in one's own immediate sphere of interest. Over all, Berkeley was fun to explore, and I had many meaningful talks with my friend Neyha.

My last day was spent in taking the BART to San Francisco, and walking around the city for the majority of the day. We perused through Chinatown, witnessing the ever familiar bargaining process that we are used to in India. They sell the same items in every stall, so it is useless to visit more than one. We ate really good dim sum at a hole-in-the-wall kind of place, and then bought mini pastries at a bakery. I really liked the smells of Chinatown, a combination of jasmine tea, fragrance, steaming buns, firecrackers and sewage.

Indian Boys
Indian boys are....still a mystery to me. I do not understand how I am supposed to relate to them. I feel an obligated bond to them, but without any conversational charm. The ones I've met are genuine and funny and still rooted to their heritage in some form or other. Yet there's a chasm that lies between me and them. I feel it in my hesitance, and in my nearly complete lack of interaction with the indian males of my life: my brother and my dad. In my eyes, they very well could be another species. When I meet Indian boys of my age-group, my curiosity fills to the brim and overflows, as I observe their every move and scrutinize their mannerism, hoping they will somehow break the mold of the stereotype I have (with a very mild bollywood influence) in the back of my mind, as to what Indian boys are supposed to be. Thus far, somehow not one of them has adequately broken the stereotype, and i think its because I haven't let them. I want them to be this..certain person, this certain comfort to fall back on, if the western world of boys rejects me. But this is a difficult point to make, because the indian boys that i encounter are also mostly westernized. They are in a constant struggle of cultures, choosing to either be a "desi", or staying far away from desis ( like this one boy i was set-up with recently). I know personality can be much more than just someone's national identity, but never have I seen a nationality so strongly default the gist of a personality as how it does in the indian culture.

I think i have allowed myself to believe that i shouldn't date an indian boy, maybe subconsciously trying to avoid some kind of pitfall I sense on a daily basis in my parents' marriage... I want to find someone of a foreign culture to mine, than be with someone whose background and values i have known since the day I was born. Even though it is a risk. But nothing is guaranteed.