Family

     Often, the generational gaps between families can lead to a lot of differences in opinions and views.  A lot of things can change in the course of just a few years, and this is especially true with immigrant families.  In my own personal experience with my parents growing up in India, I know it was hard for them to become accustomed to the culture here at first; however, since I was born here, American culture was really the first thing I learned.  Due to this, it's very difficult to compare our lives because of the vast discrepancies between the life style, customs, and environment of the two regions.  At times I get very frustrated with them if they don't understand something, but I know they're trying their best.
     Similar to author Sarah Vowell's experiences in Shooting Dad, I also have a hard time finding similarities to bond over my parents with.  When she describes her house as a house divided, that accurately defines my home as well: my parents influenced by more of an Indian culture against my sister and I with an Americanized culture.  However, I am glad that my parents give importance to teaching us Indian culture because although I may be more assimilated into society, I still want to follow Indian traditions; I do not want to completely lose my original culture. Though we may be an ocean's away from understanding each other (pun intended), I know they're always just trying to do what's best for me.

The Flamenco Dancer

The dancer closes her eyes, unable to face it. 

She thought she would have had the courage, but she doesn't. 

She remembers her so vividly, as she impatiently pulls her soft hazel-colored hair away from her tan face,

and intertwines her own small, nimble hand with the girl’s to help her stand back up from her fall.  

As she stands on stage, her ankle pulses with a constant ache. 

But she ignores it, instead masking it with the brilliant stance a dancer should always take.

She recalls the image of her picking out her first flamenco dress- blazing orange, similar to what the dancer was wearing right now.  In fact, her tawny, worn out heels belonged to the other girl as well.  

She would've been proud of her, or at least that’s what her mother believed.  But the girl was not so sure. She would never be as skilled as her, but she didn't want to be.  Dancing embodied her entity, and the girl never wanted to take that away from her-but it would always be something they shared.  

She has practiced the very first flamenco step she ever taught her to perfection.

Follow my lead, she had said as she counted the beat aloud in a tender yet fervent tone:

1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3, 1, 2, 3.

She knew the spotlight caught every beautiful and flawed detail about her, 

from the strand of pitch black hair falling out of place to the straight, set posture of her body. 

It was all too much for her: the noisy audience, the deafening, upbeat tempo of the melody blaring all around, suffocating her.  It’s almost over she sighs with relief,

as she slightly drops her face to hide behind the curtain of her memories.

The flash of bright fluorescent lights cutting into the obscure darkness, 

the scarlet red car from the other side skidding on the clear ice. 

The lashing force, the piercing screams, the unbearable pain.  

Her bloodied face, slashed with zigzagged cuts from the broken shards of glass. 

The thin white puffs of her ragged breaths in the frigid air as she tries so desperately to hold on. 

The taste of bitter metallic in the girl’s mouth.  

The grip on her hand, slowly loosening.  She remembers it all. 

It could have been different- she could have swerved to the other lane, been more careful, driven slower.
No. What’s done is done. 

Now the girl can no longer feel anything, terrified of the rush of anguish that will destroy her if she does.
Instead she slowly closes her eyes before the applause shatters her unsettling solace 

and reaches towards the sky, asking, pleading for the chance to grab onto her sister’s reassuring hand once again, and know that all has been forgotten. 

Rhythms of Life

Music has been created and enjoyed back to the earliest of days, and is still a major aspect of modern society.  Artists around the world are always experimenting with different genres and writing new songs; they often use their music to convey and share their feelings about experiences or maybe because they want to teach people something.  For example, many reoccurring themes in songs are heart break, love, religion, and death.  Through music, people can bond over similar types of genres they like and also find comfort in relating to other's struggles. In "Because my Father Always said he was the only Indian who saw Jimi Hendrix play 'The Star-Spangled Banner' at Woodstock" by Sherman Alexie, the main character's father makes a connection to Jimi Hendrix's music because both of them are going through the same thing: marginalization in America.  He not only appreciates his talented guitar playing, but also understands that Hendrix is an African American, a minority race, living in a predominantly white society.  Alexie's father, being a minority ethnicity himself, empathizes with Hendrix's struggles of assimilation; consequentially, he listens to the artist's music incessantly to remind himself that he isn't the only one going through it. This portrays that music often opens up new doors in people's lives by allowing them to connect to other's as well as come to terms with the realities of life.  On the other hand, it can also do the complete opposite and provide an escape for individuals to get away from their hardships.  Either way, music is celebrated around the world and is something that people will always have a passion for.

Identity or Perception?

Identity is what someone associates his/her beliefs, characteristics, and qualities with while perception is the way others see you. Often, we are the harshest critics of ourselves by comparing each other and constantly picking at our own flaws rather than choosing to see our strengths. People want to please others, so they frequently create a perfect image of themselves. To make matters worse, perception has become even more complex due to the advancement of technology and increased use of social media: people often judge others based on their profile picture, how many followers they have or how many likes they get. Studies even show that social media can cause depression because people constantly compare their own lives to the unrealistic, exaggerated, exciting ones that others falsely project to make themselves look better. "The grass is always greener on the other side" is the perfect idiom to describe this: we always think others have it better, when ironically that isn't the case at all. That person who we compare ourselves with is just trying to give off a wonderful perception of their self; it's not their true identity. Sometimes we become so obsessed with what others think that we let it take control over our lives. But in reality, the best thing to do is to just stop putting up a disguise and allow people to see the real you. If everyone acts like their true self, the vast differences between identity and perception could diminish and perhaps barely exist at all.