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.