The Comfort Zone

One of the reasons that my writing became infrequent is because I gradually formed a comfort zone. I guess it is human nature to craft a comfort zone out of any situation. This nature probably leads to extremes like Stockholm syndrome and missing prison. Although many foreign writings about India focus on the initial shock, for the finches that do adapt / survive there is a ‘relatively’ calm sea ahead.

My comfort zone is shaped like this. I wake up in the morning to brush my teeth and put on dirty clothes. Then I walk to school and scoop up spicy rice with the children for breakfast. I have one morning class where I snap at tenth graders to pay attention. Then I spend the next four hours doing a student profiling project for the school, teaching, and organizing. I eat lunch with the sandy children. I have three final classes. I teach semi-Amity style lessons to two adorable toasted angels. Then I trick one boy into reading for an hour. Finally, I mentor a 12th grader by playing chess with him and talking about ambition and persistence.

Then the school day is over. I go home, relax, read, listen to books, talk with my mates, cook, go food shopping, and workout. We have a lot of great conversations about life and India. Then I fall asleep and repeat this routine for five days. The routine is very comfortable. I am well feed. I feel respected and purposeful at school. I feel appreciated by the students. I’m not lonely because I live with three awesome men. Any man who comes to India to teach poor children are the kind of person a young man could look up to. Even though one of them is six years younger than me, there are definitely things worthy of admiration in his character.

The four of us will workout on the rooftop every night. We look at the stars and discuss the phase of the moon.  The stars remind me of my family. After working out, we go back to our bachelor pad drink protein shakes and talk. Then the night is over and we go to bed in the same room. The workouts have defined our relationship. Some of the best bonds I’ve ever made have been with workout buddies.

I haven’t felt pushed or irked in a while. In my little bubble there isn’t much that troubles me or I find fascinating. Rather than run to the pages with my cultural queries my roommates and I hash them out together. So their companionship has fulfilled the need of my blog.
Although I love them, I understand that the bubble is too safe. I found a way to be comfortable here, that was an accomplishment, but if I wanted to be comfortable I shouldn’t have come.

Lets see what happens next.

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