on Boston

City-data.com indicates that 75% of people that live in the zipcode 02138 are Caucasian. I'm not being racist, or politically-incorrect or even rude, just observant. Today on the T, I saw no one who looked remotely like me, except for some pale woman who had obviously dyed her hair black, and it made me sad. As often as I had tried to escape from the Indian life at Stanford and be an "underground brown," I never felt like I was the only one. Walking around Cambridge streets makes me hyper-aware of my minority status, a feeling that S. shared recently with regarding her new school, and it's a new feeling that isn't so hot.

Sometimes I wonder what Boston Boys—for the most part, meaty, popped-collar, ex-fraternity brothers who love beer, Lacoste, and their women (in no particular order)—think of a short brown girl who speaks in puns and smells like Febreze. The best analogy I can give to a Boston Boy (henceforth BB) is someone like Andy from The Office (without the dorky appeal of acapella and a stint on SNL). He's not attractive, highly unfunny, has no common sense, and yet can't understand why Pamangela aren't drooling over his very presence. To those of you who thought that the Andys of the world only existed in the exotic musings of Greg Daniels, you are wrong. They abide in Boston, and loiter in the bars, clubs, streets, restaurants, and even bleed into the workplace. I asked a friend if there were places to go that weren't populated by these breed, and she couldn't think of a location. Perhaps the local temple. Or Jamaica Plain. Maybe that is politically incorrect.