The force of adaptation

Today, I felt like ice cream. I went to safeway and bought some ice cream. The Asian girl, Alice, servicing two check-out stations decided to not come and bag for me when I have completed my check-out. The cashier felt embarrassed, and said… Alice, come and help me bag…, and she ignored him.

Sometimes, I feel the same way. For some reason, something inside makes me want to be strict and mean to Chinese people. Especially the girls, when I see that spark in their eyes from seeing a cute white guy passing by, I feel some how it is up to me to let her follow that spark. In fact, this thing in me make me feel like I ought to encourage her to follow that dream, instead of completing the sentence she is in the middle of speaking to me.

The force of adaptation is at work. The Bagger at the Safeway, being Asian, decided to stay away from me because she felt that bagging for me would show me preferential treatment. Just as I felt I would be unfair to the girl if I forced her to complete her conversation with me before getting distracted by a white guy. Becuase that’s what she wants to do, and because of that, she did not bag for me, as she should have under any normally acceptable circumstances.

The prevailing thought here in California is that genetic mixture is a superior form of life both in principle and in practice.

The principle is idealistic: People of all races, living without genetic or cultural borders. Intermarrying, happily, working, without racism.

The practice is one of reality: Many children of parents from mixed race are smart, rich, or very very exotically beautiful.

Maybe that is the only way out… Maybe that is the only way for me to get my grocery bagged… Maybe then, I won’t have to deal with these huge tsunamis of annoyance when all she wants to do is to stare at that white guy’s dick as he walks by…

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