Santa Cruz

Amazing what a difference two years can make. I am, of course, referring to my recent trip down south to Santa Cruz. The last time I went, sometime in November 2007, I went with my stoner friend Josh; we left in the afternoon, and arrived around night-time. The trip took us a good 4, maybe even 5 hours; mostly because we were lost, and had to rely on a physical map to get us from one road to another. Add that to the fact that Josh was driving like a maniac on roads filled to the brim with twists and curves, and I was most assuredly given a very, very memorable drive to Santa Cruz with him.

In contrast, I went to Santa Cruz last week with my friend Manpreet. His I-Phone pretty much spat out all the directions we needed to get to Santa Cruz; we made the trip in about 2 and a half hours, much to my chagrin. But I guess the point here I'm trying to make is that in less than two years time, I've seen technology make an important contribution towards one event in my life. Rather than tracing the roads on an impossibly confusing map, I now got to trace my finger over the I-Phone to tell me where to go.

As for the trip itself, well, it was rather uneventful. I served as DD for the night, although I do admit that I took a few shots and a few beers at the party. "Never again" amounted to roughly a little under five months? And yet, I don't feel heavy dissapointment in myself, nor anger, or what have you; I may not be happy with my decision to have broken a vow to myself like that, but I'm at peace with that decision.

Hopes

You ever set your hopes on something or somebody, thinking it'd be some magic panacea to all your woes? And then, felt the disappointment that caves in like an avalanche when you realize that he/she or it isn't? I'm kinda in that crux right now; except, I'm in the unenviable position of being that magical cure-all. I just got done talking to one of my dad's friends, a guy in his late 20s/early 30s; he called the house, and I picked it up, telling him that my parents are (well, were by the time anybody reads this) asleep; this segued way into a half-hour discussion of him just bombarding me with all these ridiculous comments and compliments that made me seem like somebody special. And then I realized...yeah, to these people, I actually do look like somebody with a plan.

Let me back up for a moment here. Nobody in my family (at least from my dad's side of the family) has gone to college. Ever. Coming from a line of farmers (and soldiers, as some people in my family were), me and my brother are considered something of anomalies within the lack of success stories seen in our family. A generation that has genuine hope. Men with a future; respectable careers. Role models. At UOP, most of the people I know are either gonna be pharmacists, dentists, or something else that'll probably pay six figures. So over there, I never feel ostracized or special; in fact, its kind of a comradarie that develops between people who share so much in common. But out here, outside of school, outside of a place brimming with hopes and youth and drive and ambition, I see the truth. And the truth is, most Punjabis aren't educated. For every one that goes to college, or even grad school, there'll be a dozen that'll be working at gas stations, driving trucks, or any other menial job that while putting food on the table, is one that a number of my family have done at one time or another. As another educated Punjabi put it to me at UOP's library at 4 AM, during one of my tests/his Pharmacy midterms, educated Punjabi men are a premium, whereas young Punjabi women who just need to spread their legs are a dime a dozen. His words, not mine; but I digress.

So there you have it. Me and my brother seemingly represent a change in the continuum within our bloodlines. But the truth is, we're not really change; we're just the old, wrapped up with a bit of American gloss. And I realize, this facade, I don't want to have to live it. Seem like some nice, innocent guy who is a bookworm, doesn't do anything stupid, saintly, holier than thou. I want to be human and make my damn mistakes, but I've got to be held as a role model to the younger ones in my family. But then, everyone is a hope to somebody else; be it a hope of love, a hope of success, or a hope of a dream fulfilled, people complete one another. And I guess if what I do with my life somehow inspires somebody else, or just does something positive for a person, then I'll keep on maintaining that illusion. Is that what growing up entails; knowing that our actions have consequences beyond ourselves, meaning with implications that are further than what we perceive? I realize I probably sound pretty pompous right now, and I don't care (although I care enough to tell you I don't care), but if that's how the next ten years are gonna look when my parents try to arrange a marriage for me, and I have to meet the parents of any number of women that would get bartered off to me, then I wish I had gone with Plan B.














Plan B= Go into porn. Preferably midget.

Friends

Today, I had the opportunity to hang out with some friends of mine I hadn't seen since well over half a year. While one part of me rejoiced at the fact that I saw familiar faces in which I had shared so many moments with, another part of me asked: what the hell happened? I'm trying not to be judgmental here (however unlikely that seems), but I'm puzzled by some of the choices they've made, and some of the situations they've seem to put themselves into. Two of them have warrants out for their arrests. Another, who I never took to be a pothead and just a slightly recreational drug user (a few beers from time to time, his own hookah he's got set-up, etc.) is dating a dealer, and he blazes just about every other day with her. One of my best friends is getting married within the year, and yet he's just about the biggest womanizer I've ever known (me and my other friend have a running bet on how long he's gonna last before he has an affair; we're not exactly the best of friends to think so lowly of him, but hey, we're pragmatists, not saints).

But I still love them. They're hilarious, down-to-earth, good people. Flawed, yes, but who doesn't have them? I have them myself; I'm full of contradictions (read: hypocrite), prone to anger, etc. I may come off as judgmental here, but these are the types of people that make life interesting; when I'm sitting behind a counter telling some old geezers how to prolong their lives with the pills I'm giving them, it'll be nice to know that I can get away from the monotomy of life as a pharmacist, and just do something exciting, dangerous, stupid, but ultimately...fulfilling, in some strange way. Hell, they already convinced me to go to Santa Cruz next week (I'm having bouts of deja vu here, because I realize that I'm going to go, with or without my parents' consent) to visit my friend Mike.

I've come to realize that I would be a very, very different person had I not met some of these people in my life; a lesser one, without my friends.