And last night makes two.
















I'm an idiot.

Okay, I'll have to find a job in my lifetime...

My friends say they've heard something like my community theory before. Whatever. At least I'm thinking critically.


Bastards.

Lazy Eyes

Okay, so:

I'm majoring in Community and Regional Development, and I've been studying and learning a myriad of subjective theories and definitions regarding the concept of "community." Everybody seems to have a different idea of what community actually represents, and they all apparently feel the need to justify their ideas with graphs, interviews, surveys, etc.
I have a different theory of what community means; one that transcends time. Community is a process. It's a process that transcends time; it begins and ends, just like the lives of those that occupy it. The best I can explain it is to give a hypothetical neighborhood. A new block of homes is built, and the majority of the families that move in are young families: families with one or two very young children. The design of the area encourages neighbors to get to know each other, and eventually all the children are friends and grow up in this area together (kids move away due to their parents getting jobs elsewhere- globalization). As the kids grow up and begin to move out of their homes, the parents (who are also friends as they have raised their kids together) age together, and while some will probably go to senior homes, they all eventually die together in this same neighborhood. Then it's over for that set of families. That particular community is gone. However, those kids are still alive, and many are starting their own families (this generally happens when the parents are still alive). Those kids then move into new neighborhoods, and the process starts over again.
It's a rudimentary theory. I literally just thought of it while reading Robert Sampson's "What Community Supplies." It just seems like people are going at it in all these different ways, but they're not considering that time has anything to do with the equation. Every theory, every definition I read, I am forced to picture a neighborhood that stands still. Nobody grows up, nobody moves away, nobody's job gets outsourced. I don't think that you can effectively define community without accounting for the fact that things happen, that history happens, and that these things have a real impact on peoples' lives. Community is a dynamic thing; you can't limit it to the present. You have to take into account that people change, their life situations change, their ambitions change.
There is one obstacle I see regarding the theory that all these kids grow up together. Globalization is becoming an increasingly imposing concept in our lives. As the world gets smaller, people begin to have relationships across oceans. People move away. I don't think it would be so much of an obstacle to community that it would actually have an impact on the community. Much more so, it would have an impact on the family that moved away.
I don't know, maybe this is just another subjective theory. But at least it comes from a different angle than any about which I've ever read.
And what's this about community development? Communities develop on their own, don't they? The fact that people have to come up with designs, ways, reasons, excuses to interact with each other seems very scientific and unnatural to me. Just get a dog or a cat. Everybody loves pets, they always seem to attract people (especially kids). They start petting your dog, saying how cute it is and before you know it, you know everybody in the city and life is great!

Take that, Sampson.

If You Live Life Without Risks, You May As Well Be Dead

Jorge and I talked about V-Tech the other day. I knew he'd disagree with my wanting to go to the vigil on campus the other day. I'm glad I talked to him about it because I think he finally understood my point, my reasoning. I told him about how it was a college campus, how there was so much potential lost, so many accomplishments wasted.

A triple major, a Holocaust survivor...among the dead. It's sad; I'm over it now, but it felt good to be understood, by Jorge no less.

I'm going home tonight to have dinner with my parents and some family friends (yuck). I'll be hanging out with my brother a lot. He's cool.


OHMYGODIT'SLIKE100000DEGREESFARIENHEIGHT

Tragedy at Virginia Tech

I didn't hear about the shooting until about 7:30pm today, just a few hours ago.

At first the timeline seemed relatively straightforward: a guy came onto campus, killed a couple of people at a dorm, the dorm was locked down, then walked across campus and killed 30 people before finally killing himself. But now, there's some speculation about what happened. They're now not sure if both the shootings are related, or if there was just one shooter. Regardless of what happened, it will be remembered for a long time. This is the 5th school shooting this year, and it's only April. Where is our homeland security? Where is our protection?
I keep thinking about how one girl said she survived. The gunman came into her 25 person classroom and killed all but four people. She said she survived by pretending to be dead.
The whole incident in that classroom couldn't have lasted more than two minutes. I can't even imagine how scary that must be, to be trying to stay awake learning German at 9 in the morning one minute and then have to figure out how you're going to keep yourself alive the next.
Picnic Day was two days ago in Davis, and I can't help but think that something really serious could easily have happened then. I don't remember seeing any kind of security measures being imposed, no police, nothing. We were lucky that day.
Thirty three people died. How could the cops let this happen? How could so many people die just like that? Why did it take so long for help to get there? Have we not made any progress since 9/11??
Obviously, I'm emotional about this. I'm mad that we let it happen. I'm sad that so many people died, people that had the potential to help change the world for the better.
I feel sick at the reaction of my roommates. They're both in bed right now. I don't know why I should expect them to care. It happened in Virginia, nearly 3,000 miles away. Honestly, though, it disturbs me how nonchalant one of them was about the deadliest school shooting in U.S. History. I mean, at least one was interested in the video taken from a cell phone. The other just kept studying at the dining table.

Oh My! Fallacy! Fallacy in My Words!

What a downer. I was having such a good week. I went to a concert that I had decided to go to that day! There were three tickets left and we got two of them! I drove to San Francisco and we were ten feet from the stage and it was the most amazing, spontaneous thing I'd ever done! Then classes have been going so well because in upper division classes are smaller and so everybody kind of knows everybody. Classes have consisted more of discussion than of lecture, which is really great. I mean, at least it keeps you awake. I've been making new friends that are really really nice, and interested in the same stuff that I'm interested in. I got back into Sepia Mutiny after the longest time. But that's when it happened. Honestly, it seems like every time I make an effort to participate in my own ethnic community, it blows up in my face. I questioned the authenticity of someone's story and I understand that it was completely unnecessary on my part. I felt terrible after reading some of the other comments that I read, and publicly/officially apologized for the misplaced judgment. What made it ten times worse was that one of the bloggers made it into an even bigger issue by posting an entire blog on the issue.
Okay, judging much???
I mean, I've apologized now multiple times! I know that not all the blame is focused on me. In fact, most of it is on the other guy, who has apologized, but continues to defend his comments. I don't know, I just feel like this is so hypocritical: to get all pissy at me for making a mistake! To call me out on judging someone too quickly. What the fuck are all of you doing??

Patience. I have to remember and practice it. I just have to remember that the real important thing to remember here is the fact that I learned something. I learned that I can't act like I know anyone's story. Only God has the right to judge anyone.

Regarding Shaadi

After this bit of news, I decided to collect and express my thoughts on the subject of marriage within the majority of South Asian society.

Parents are interested in their child's personal happiness. However, subconsciously they feel that their child will be happy when subscribing to the socially constructed status quo (i.e. making society happy). While not necessarily intentional, parents still believe that only they have the mental and emotional capacity to choose the right person for their child. But the notion that "mother knows best" regarding her child's life partner requires confidence in the assumption that the parents have a thorough understanding of their child's identity. Being raised with South Asian values in the United States, I know that this is very often not the case (not only within the South Asian community, but in the greater sphere of family life). Second generation immigrants are obliged to lead dual lives; they uphold their parents' values when surrounded by a society that abides by such values and, in more amenable settings, they exhibit personalities that are usually different from those to which their parents have been exposed. The psychological result here is that parents project their own notions of what happiness is and what personal qualities will make their child "happy" Young adults are then persuaded to marry exactly those suiters who fit their equation for happiness, unconscious of the fact that their happiness equation may not "equal" that of their child's. The parents' input data is wrong because it's missing half of their child's personality, half of their essence.

I like this quote from the discussion thread of the story:

"Generally speaking, the better your relationship with your parents, the more likely it is that an arranged marriage could work. Ironically, the better your relationship with your parents is, the less likely they are to try and strip you of choice."

Dumb Submission

It was a dumb submission, a question answered truthfully. I really thought god wanted me to put myself out there because I would get what I wanted; not in this case. It's funny because I've known the answer for so long, but I still thought, "Maybe." Oh, well. Now I know for sure. On to someone else, I suppose.

I'm starting to think that I'm crazy for sensing divine intervention in a few recent coincidences.

Keep My Feet on the Ground and My Head in the Clouds

So, today was the first day of spring quarter instruction. It was weird how alone I felt despite remembering most of my classmates from previous classes. I already feel like I'm falling behind. I'm worried about distractions. I think I feel this way every time I start a new quarter, but this time I'm articulating it. I have to find a way to get out of my head.

Everyone Has a Tell

I hate hospitals in general. I don't know who I was kidding being an NPB major for two years, I empathize far too much with everyone. But today I experienced something I'd never felt before. I could feel my entire body getting weaker, the blood draining from my face as my uncle let out little moans of pain while sitting in the chair next to his hospital bed. He was holding a small, heart-shaped pillow to his chest to help him burp so that the air pressure didn't build up in his lungs and hurt him more. I guess he exerted himself too much because as soon as he released the pillow a little bit, he winced in pain; it was just for a second, but it was enough to scare me. I'd never seen him in pain like that, never. He went on wincing and lightly moaning for about 2o seconds and I couldn't stand anymore. Luckily we had to go out to the waiting room while they helped him move into a more comfortable chair. I didn't say anything to my parents until we left my extended family's company. I know my uncle will be okay, but it's scary to see someone you love so much in such a vulnerable state. Maybe it had something to do with being tired, I don't know.
I can't wait until he's himself again.

Do I know you from somewhere?

Jeez, I almost forgot about this!

I'm starting to equate living at home with living alone. Especially for someone in my position, who just has to be so fucking different from every other stupid bitch I know, talking to my family is like talking walls of different heights and widths: it doesn't matter what the wall looks like, it's still not listening to you. I've never fully grasped the meaning of the phrase "you don't listen" until recently when I thought about how my family responds to the feelings and ideas I try to convey to them. My parents usually play the disrespect card to get me to give in to them, and it usually works when it gets to that point. I'm not sure why. I'll have to think about that incessantly and get back to you with a conclusion in six months to a year.
Ehhh...I'm done with this one.

I Need You, They Need You

Everybody,

World AIDS Day just passed. I can't stress enough, I can't describe in words how much people in the world need YOU right now, this very second.
Today, 5,500 people--men, women, people just like us--will die because they couldn't get two little pills.
Two little pills that can keep them alive. Can you imagine not being able to do it yourself? To keep yourself alive? Can you imagine having to depend on something so tiny as a pill to keep you alive because your own body is giving up?
There are people in this world, this world that we are a part of, that need those pills to stay alive. But they can't do it on their own. They need us. They need you. I'll help too. And you and me, and my friends and your friends if you decide to talk about this, we can get somebody, any random person, we can get them those pills. We can keep somebody alive. And if there's one person who happens to be special, who happens to have a sense of purpose, and we kept them alive, that person can contribute something to their community, to their country, to our world. And their contribution to society will make our lives better.
It's not hard at all to help. Everybody is going to be shopping for gifts this month. (RED) products are not more expensive than regular products. So if you want to help, here's my suggestion as to what to do:
1. Go to www.joinred.com and learn about the idea behind (RED). Find out which companies are (RED).
2. When you go holiday shopping, make an effort to buy (RED) products rather than the regular products. A portion of the sale from every (RED) product goes to buying pills for people in Africa who have AIDS.
3. Tell your friends to do the same.
If you're still reading this, thank you so much. Thank you for your attention, because that tells me that you care, possibly as much as I do. We can do this if we work as a team. We can keep some really amazing people alive long enough for them to fulfill their purpose in life.
Thanks again,

Sonia

Strength and Purpose

Pleasures conceived in the world of the senses have a beginning and an end and give birth to misery...The wise do not look for happiness in them. But those who overcome the impulses of lust and anger that arise in the body are made whole and live in joy. They find their joy, their rest, and their light completely within themselves. United with the Lord, they attain nirvana in Brahman.
-Bhagavad Gita 5:22-24

I've been studying the Gita lately, and I've come across passages that I agree with and some that I either don't understand or disagree with. This one though, summarizes everything I know and feel and want others to know about Hinduism until now. It's so hard to overcome physical pleasure, but when I see how it is even harder for other people, I thank God that I have the strength to overcome at least some of life's many obstacles. I am one lucky girl.
God wants us to work ceaselessly for the benefit of the world without expectation of reward. How to deal with the derivatives associated with this...
What with the expectations of my family and the materialism that surrounds me. I could do it easily, if only no one were watching. That's where the obstacle is overcome. If you can work for the benefit of others ceaselessly in front of everyone, you have strength--immeasurable strength.
Someday...

Mad ramblings?

When did things start to get so bad in this world? The rampant, ceaseless, abhorrent exclusion that is everywhere (i.e. homosexuals, different races, certain castes, etc.") is making me weary and pessimistic of the life my kids will have. We're so caught up in what others will think that we stop ourselves from being human. We stop ourselves from doing things we naturally enjoy doing, simply because we're worried about our reputation. And our reputations turn into our legacies, what we leave behind; how people, fleeting in existence themselves, will remember our short time here. It's so sick. I feel so sick. Things like this have always existed. Social status, class, background, lifestyle; it's all so important to everybody and simultaneously so irrelevant. So why does it matter SO much to me??????

As children, we were told that if all the people in the world looked exactly the same, life would be boring.
I disagree.
I think that if all the people in the world looked exactly the same, we would all have a chance at being treated with respect and equality. We'd all belong. We'd all have the chance to be human. The point people miss is that, just because we'd all look exactly the same doesn't mean we'd all have the same personalities. We'd have different goals, different views. But that brings me back to the beginning. Different goals, different views would require exclusion. As Zygmunt Bauman said, "The emancipation of some calls for the suppression of others." I feel so sick.

No, that can't be right. I believe that human beings have the potential to be peaceful. People can and will someday learn to coexist peacefully, cooperatively.
It is in the genetic makeup of some to be competitive. Competition makes us lie, cheat, steal, and harm others to get what we want--to achieve our own goals without regard for the goals or wellbeing of others. Competition must be eliminated. Is that heaven? The absence of competition? Hunger? Jealousy? That's what Matisyahu says. What does Hinduism say? The real Hinduism? Not the Gita, not the Mahabharata. The Vedas. I need the Vedas.I need the truth.
Every night I hear people going through the garbage under my window.

Enough of my ramblings

Gone

I remember the last time I talked to him face to face. He was lying in a hospital bed. He looked very weak. She was seated next to him and we were seated across from them. The conversation turned to my future. I offered him my goals. He shot them down. Too much insurance, not enough money. Those were the two answers he had for me. As we left the hospital, I remember feeling my blood boil at how he'd just made me look like a fool whether he meant to or not. I remember my mom speaking poorly of him on the car ride home. I knew it was wrong, but I added to the heated conversation.
Two years later. I never got to tell him about urban planning. I wonder what would have been wrong with it.

Cowardice: It Runs in the Family

I knew there was something more to this; a dimension we didn't think to consider: It's not about what we want. It's about what he wanted. What was the great advantage, privilege, the great gift in seeing his body for one last time? If losing that hour-long opportunity meant fighting tooth and nail for him, then it's a sacrifice I'm sure we'd all have been willing to give.
There's still time. I wonder if they're up for the challenge. Perhaps we've been blinded by our own selfishness, but the question is one of whether we're willing to sacrifice our own wants one last time.
Why didn't anybody think of this before??
We sat around, blaming her for his death, blaming her for all the grief they caused our family, blaming her for what we're going through now. But I ask now, how are we better than her? We didn't even put up a fight. We chose to believe everything that came out of her thin, red lips because it was convenient for us. They said she'd be two steps ahead of us. How can we know that if we've never, not once, fought against her?
But why does it have to be a fight? Why can't it be the family, in its entirety, against this problem? She willed this; but a conversation in plain English might have lightened the load we'll all now carry for the rest of our lives. I don't know about anyone else, but I fear I too will die, never knowing what he really wanted. That doesn't sit right with me. I just want to talk to her--to ask her to grant us this one thing, and then she won't ever have to "deal" with us again. I could probably get her phone number. I won't get home tomorrow until 10pm. Am I destined to be helpless in this situation?
Why did nobody stand up to her before? Why, countless times, has she been allowed to spit words of pure hate in our faces, only to have us smile at her with respect the next time we see her...
Cowardice.
The only answer I have.
Everything else is extraneous, irrelevant, ignorant.

And another thing that's pissing me off: everybody keeps saying," He's in a better place." What the hell? We're Hindu! Every Hindu knows about reincarnation. He's not in a better place. He's here; starting all over again as whatever or whomever God wants his soul to be. Is it wrong to talk about that? That's not even the point right now, I guess. But then, what is the point? Why do we grieve, if not to ask questions about what is, what could have been, and what will be? There are so many questions I have (obviously) but nobody wants to talk about anything anymore, as if the grieving period is over.

I didn't cry in front of anyone. I've come close, but I know any attention will just make me cry more. It's better for this to be private. That's probably why I haven't been able to talk to anyone. Mom should know to talk to me. She hasn't even tried; I can't blame her, she's had to host this whole thing. I just caved tonight and started writing here.

Overwhelmed again

It's 1:45am. I'm supposed to have 5 chapters for my two classes read by friday at the latest. It's now Wednesday, and I only have 1 chapter done. I bought two new notebooks today, and one of them is wide-ruled, so I can't use it. Someone very important is very sick. My parents are mad at me (nothing new). I can't find my glasses. I was supposed to be going to the gym everyday this week, and I haven't gone at all. What's more, I'm afraid I won't go tomorrow morning. I think I'm gaining weight again. The pressure is piling up on me and I just wish my parents would lay off, because that would help a lot.
My aunt is coming up from L.A. this weekend to a nearby airport, and my parents don't trust me to pick her up by myself. I pretty much expected it, but now I'm thinking: Blind people, people who can't read, people who don't speak English, they can get through an airport. I can see and I'm not illiterate, and they don't think I'll know which parking lot to go into. Is this really the image my parents have of me? Is this what I show them? That's sick. Pathetic. I don't have time to worry about that.
I have to get a lot of important work done tomorrow, but I really really really need to get to the gym.
I feel so sick right now. Sick with worry. I wish I didn't have to go home this weekend. I wish I didn't have to work. I wish my parents didn't know my schedule so I could stay here and catch up on everything. I want to pull my hair out. I have to go to the gym tomorrow, to release this frustration, anger, fear, worry if to accomplish nothing else. I won't be able to sleep tonight, that's something I don't need with a 2 hour midmorning class and a 3 hour evening class tomorrow. Where are my glasses???
I'm going to try to get something done.

Mr. McDreamy

I recently had a weird dream:
I got married to the most gorgeous guy: chiseled jaw, washboard abs, perfect skin, pecs you could use as plates, the whole nine yards.
So, we get married, (which is approximately where my dream started), come back to where the family was for the wedding (they’ve all left by now for the reception), and I somehow find out that he’s slept with lots of other girls before. The dream ends. I know there’s a part of me that watched way too much “Sex and the City” that night, but the surprise in the dream really got me thinking. How well do you really know a person when your marriage with them is arranged?

So, I’ve been freaking out about this dream for the past month or so, wondering if I should talk to my mom about it. In the end, I decided not to talk to her about it. It’d just be too weird. Instead, I thought about what I would say if my own daughter asked me something like that. Here’s what I came up with:
“You don’t. You just trust that God will make it all okay. You have to believe that you’ve just found the love of your life. If that doesn’t end up being true, then you have to move on. But everything happens for a reason. If you have to go through that, then God wanted you to go through that. Whatever happens, whether you’re happy or not, you’ll end up being a smarter, more mature person because of your experiences. Those qualities are things that nobody can mess up.”

Just say "Hi" and wave

I realize I haven't posted in a long time. I've been really busy trying to catch up in school. I've been hearing/thinking a lot about of friend of mine recently, though. So, today's post is for her:

Have you ever seen somebody you knew, in a store or on campus or something, but for some reason you didn't want to say hello? Not necessarily because you didn't like the person, but maybe because you didn't want to seem too clingy or stalker-ish.
Well, about a year ago, I found myself in this exact situation. I was sitting at a stop light in Davis, and my friend (who was in the car) said, "Hey, isn't that Vinny Sandhu?"
Sure enough, in the next lane and a car ahead of us, she was waiting at the same light. We both noted how cool she was, how much we liked her. I know it would have been pretty hard to get her attention, what with her being in her car with the windows rolled up and all and I never had her number so I couldn't exactly have called her up. Of course, at the time, we didn't think much of it.
Anyway, so the light turned green and Vinny drove off, and we went our direction as well. Not a big event, just a little interesting thing that happened that day.
Two and a half weeks later, I was sitting at home with my mom. She was on the phone with a good family friend of ours. My "auntie" was telling my mom that her daughter was really upset, crying hysterically for hours. Her best friend had died that day. Mom asked who it was that passed and said her name out loud.
"Vinny Sandu?"
My hands shot straight up to cover my gaping mouth and I stared wide-eyed at the carpet below me. My mind kept going back to that day, two and a half weeks before, when Vinny was simply on her way home from another day at school. I saw it over and over...
I wish I had honked.
I drive by the scene of the accident a few times per week; I still see the skid marks on the road. The grass on the side of the road is still black and burned. There is still a cross with flowers erected in her memory in the middle of the charred grass.
I still ask myself,"Why," even though I may never understand.

Moral of the story: Just say hello to that person even if they are just an acquaintance, because you never know when, or if, you'll see them again.

I Learned Something Today

I've been serenely looking for something for my mom, but so far nothing has really sparked my interest. Today, at work, I wanted to snag some lovely orchids so I'd at least have something to give besides cooking (an excellent) dinner tomorrow. As I scanned the aroma-filled floral section at Bel-Air (damn expensive, by the way) I found an arrangement I'd never seen before. It was a beautiful cymbidium orchid plant, the thick stem placed in its own small vase. The thing that really caught my eye though was that the whole plant was encased in a large cardboard box with a clear plastic front through which to see. Granted, the box was black for some reason, and had this ugly gold lining, but the concept was beautiful. It reminded me of those roses people get that come in a long box, you know? But, me being so indecisive, I started having doubts as to whether I should get it, whether it really was pretty, even before it was tediously rung up at the checkstand. I hesitantly bought the boxed arrangement, still terribly undecided, thinking I'd store it in the freezing 64-degree back room until I was off for the day. With feigned confidence, I marched back into the branch, where Jorge and Whitney were, and without a second's hesitation, Jorge mocked, "That is a tacky box they put that in." At first I was shocked, then just really really embarrassed. "It won't be in the box when I give it to her," I quickly replied, and rushed into the back room. I could feel my face blush as I tried my best to hide the flowers in the back, but the room is tiny and the box stuck out like a sore thumb. I didn't set foot in the back room if I could help it for the rest of the day; I sure as hell didn't so much as glance at the flowers. As I hurried to my car at the end of the day, I struggled to keep the gold lining against my chest so nobody would see and feel sorry for the loser that bought flowers in a box. I showed my brother when I got home, and he was really enthusiastic about liking the flowers, which definitely upped my confidence. But now, I keep thinking about this god-awful box in which the arrangement won't even be when I give this to mom. Damn Jorge. Seriously, what competent adult on earth says something like that? He might as well have shat out his mouth onto my self-esteem.
But I learned a couple of things right now, staring through the plastic. For one, Jorge is the most negative, most judgmental, pessimistic person I've ever met. Even though the front of the box was clear plastic and you could see right through to the flowers, he chose to first make a negative and condescending statement about the box! The outside! He judged the proverbial book by its cover! ...so cliche, so unbelievably cliche...
Second, I learned that it's unhealthy for me to be in Jorge's presence. I have been sitting for 20 minutes next to these flowers, these rather stunning gifts from God (with love), these delicate, stubborn flowers that someone before me took care of, nurished, trimmed, and had to let go, thinking that I had failed as a person to make a sound decision about what flowers to purchase on a day that businesses made up for their own profit, for a person who isn't even speaking to me (still!). I need to talk to dad about this tomorrow and see if he agrees that I should resign. I really think it's best for me, mentally and physically. Here's some more logic: I was talking to Mandeep today and we were talking about the job. She said she was having doubts as to whether she wanted to stay in banking, but she said she's never had a day where she woke up and thought, "Ugh, I have to work today." I realized I felt the exact opposite. I've never had a day where I woke up and thought, "Cool, I get to go to work today." For me, this is a dead-end job: Either I end it, or I'll die. Wow, that sounds way more serious than I wanted that to sound...

Okay enough depression. I wanted to have an appreciative, optimistic tone to this entry as well. Tonight, I realized I have the most amazing view of the moon at night, and I can stare at it from the comfort of my own home. We have these ridiculously huge windows in our home that let in some of the most spectacular sights I've seen in a long time. I think the night sky is ten times more enthralling when you can see it from inside your own home. Hopefully soon I'll have some pictures up, both of the night sky and the orchids. Then you can judge for yourself whether you like them or not!
Not that I'll care... :)