Indian London

I just got this sudden flashback that I think is really interesting and sort of defines my time abroad from a year ago. It’s two days after my regretful one night stand in London. I’d felt ashamed and torn over what had happened that night at the nightclub when I had sex with that army officer right outside somewhere in a dark alleyway. Ashamed and saddened that I had betrayed Spencer, I was a complete mess. Vicky was supportive to a certain extent; she didn’t comfort so much as just keeping her mouth shut and reserving her judgment for me to hear. She knew I was devastated over what had happened. Vicky promised to meet me outside of a Tube station to see a hospital and run some tests to make sure that I don’t have any STDs. I got there on time, as usual. This scene in my head is seriously like something right out of a movie. I stepped out of the Tube station and found myself in a part of London that was home to a different kind of culture. Away from the white, gentrified parts of London, this part of London was covered with Indians and persons of South Asian descent. I’m not sure if the reason why Vicky brought me to this particular hospital was because this happened to be in an Indian district or whether this was all pure coincidence, but when I walked out of that station, I can just picture myself walking through an urban, gritty part of London with a hip-hop Indian tune playing in the background. Tons of South Asian street vendors were selling counterfeit products, ranging from handbags to DVDs. There were new, unfamiliar smells surrounding me. Languages being spoken and shouted that I had no idea what they were. It was like being in Chinatown, but not. It was a different part of London, and in turn, a different part of Europe. Europe today is about immigrants and other cultures infiltrating in what is traditionally “European,” which is part of the globalizing movement of the 21st century. And more than ever, I felt like I was in a completely different country at that point, which made me feel even lonelier when compounded with the circumstances in which I found myself. It was really an interesting moment in Europe for me.

The District Sleeps Alone Tonight

As much as I hated being in France when I was there, I often look back fondly at all the experiences I had and all the friends I made. The five of us who met in France last January are still as close as when we left last May. We communicate frequently via Facebook and e-mails and give each other updates on our lives. I often look through the hundreds of pictures we took of each other in France and all over Europe and just smile. I can’t describe how much happiness I feel when I look through those pictures and remember the hilarious experiences we shared together. Whether the experiences were bad or good, at the end, we came out stronger and closer than ever. There’s nothing like being in a foreign land to bring five perfect strangers together.

As college comes to an end, I often reflect on the last four years and wonder: a) where all the time went; b) how much have I really gained?; and c) where did all my friends go?

It must be that I am a difficult person to deal with. I have lost 3 friends in this year alone. And I didn’t have that many to begin with. I’m not sure what it is about me that brings out the worst in me and the worst in certain people. I haven’t quite figured it out yet, and I’m not sure if I ever will. I’m still trying to figure out where I fit into all of this, because often, I feel like I’m not entirely at fault. Yes, I will take some blame, but I refuse to take all the blame. I can’t possibly be the cause of all this drama… or can I? I’m still trying to answer those questions. Regardless, in principle, I am still saddened by the deaths of these friendships. Maybe I take friendships more seriously than everyone else, or maybe I’m just desperate for friendships that I try to hold on to every one of them. But I always thought that friendships are something that you should treasure no matter what. It shouldn’t be so easy to dispose of them. It shouldn’t be so easy to disregard them. It shouldn’t be so easy to neglect them. But… why does it seem like it is easy to do all these things for other people?

My fear is simply that I will be left with no friends at the end of college. And while it’s not possible, it’s close to possible, and that scares me.

No more cheating.

I vow to never cheat again. On Spencer. On anyone else. It is a selfish act and I would never want someone to cheat on me. Therefore, I have learned from my mistakes and I vow never to cheat again. Never. Again.

Jesus, I am fucked up. Fucked up.

Incapable of being faithful?

I am honestly starting to think that I am incapable of being faithful in this relationship. I’m not sure if I’m just not capable of being faithful in any relationship, or just this one, but I know that I have been unfaithful on 2 separate occasions. Maybe it’s also because I’m studying abroad, so I think the rules are more flexible, but that still does not excuse me as a person. It is still a poor reflection of my character and the epitome of my selfishness. Am I seriously that insensitive to the principles of being someone’s girlfriend? Let alone a girlfriend who has already solemnly declared her love for her boyfriend? I love Spencer, I really do, but why is it that each time I have more than a couple of drinks and a guy hits on me, I decide to answer positively? Last night didn’t amount to anything more than feeling body parts and making out, which is better than last time, which amounted to full out sex, but it doesn’t make it any better. And I remember that I kept thinking, even as I came home and put myself to sleep, that this guy was a much better kisser than Spencer and the way he touched me made me feel wanted. He squeezed me and held me in all the right places. With Spencer, it’s almost like he’s too busy worrying about being a gentleman and if I’m ok with what he’s doing, that he’s afraid to squeeze me and help me feel his grip on my body. But that’s exactly what I want. I want to feel and to know how much he wants me. No matter how many hints I keep dropping, I seem to get nowhere in this department. Each time we kiss or have sex, I am always the first one to make the move — with or without alcohol! When I’m on top of him, I rarely if ever feel his hands squeeze my body as if he wants me so bad he can’t help himself. And really, that’s what I love to feel — wanted. I don’t know how to interpret my behavior, but I do feel sufficiently ashamed. And yet, I keep telling myself that I’m young and I need to live. I hope that this is a phase that I’m going through only because I’m trying to make the best of my experience abroad and that it doesn’t repeat itself once I am in NY. Because if it does, then I seriously need to re-evaluate this relationship and myself. What is it about Spencer that makes the thrill of the chase of other men still desirable? Why can’t he completely satisfy these urges of mine? I am so afraid taht once he starts working, he will have less time for me and that these urges will come back full speed. If so, I will have to break up with him. I am obviously not right for him or for this relationship. He deserves someone sweet, kind, loving, and faithful towards him. Not someone who throws her morals out the window for a quick make out session.

‘Mal au pays’ would be an understatement

I miss home. A lot. I am very disillusioned by the experience I’ve had here in France, but I’m glad I came anyway so that I could know how much I really don’t like this place. I don’t like the program, the French people, the way things work here, etc.. I miss being in America, being able to speak English, being able to eat whenever I want and whatever I want, being able to just come home and sit in my room without being disturbed, etc. etc. I miss my routines. I miss my friends. I miss my family. I miss New York. I miss my college. I miss Spencer. I miss having the freedom that I used to have. I have the biggest craving for cheeseburgers and potstickers. I wanna lay on my couch at home and watch NBC News at 5:30 every evening. I wanna go downstairs to Ollie’s and order a house fried rice in Chinese. I wanna go to Awash and eat Ethiopian food. I wanna eat every type of food that I have a craving for and know that they’re at arm’s length whenever I want it. The classes here are so boring. I feel like every time I go, I’m just humoring the teacher and myself. The program is a bomb. My French is not improving to the level that I’d hoped it would reach. That’s the least of my worries though because I’m not that concerned about it. I really just miss being in a familiar surrounding with my friends and the people I care about. I miss America. I miss being an American and being comfortable in my own skin. I miss speaking Chinese. I wanna go back to the States and get my life on the road again. All of this relaxing and doing nothing has become mind-numbingly boring. I am sick of doing almost nothing everyday. I am sick of the racist and near-racist remarks from the French. I am sick of being the only Asian in a 20-mile radius. I am sick of being spoken to by the teachers like a child. I’m almost 21 for fuck’s sake. I am sick of getting drunk all the time. I am sick of having to watch my back when I’m speaking in english because I don’t give a fuck enough to speak French. I am sick of all of this. I wanna go home.