The Harsh Reality

I never really understood what George R.R. Martin meant when he said “I have lived a thousand lives and I’ve loved a thousand loves. I’ve walked on distant worlds and seen the end of time…”. As a young girl, I was always told that my imagination ran a bit too wild. I blamed it on the stories. The ones my grandmother told me when I couldn’t sleep. The stories of war and magic. Stories where women were warriors and men were scheming courtiers. Even ones that didn’t end in happily ever after. Despite my love for the American dream, for wanting the shoe to fit, it was these stories, whispered from generation to generation, that made me feel alive. Reading Maxine Hong Kingston’s version of herself as Fa Mu Lan reminded me of the same feelings, I once used to harbor towards the stories my grandmother told me. In fact, I had made my mind up that I was going to be one of the characters in particular. The master archer Arjun from the Mahabharat. He had always stood out to me because he was th

This week I tried imitation writing. Turns out imitation writing can be really hard when you have a mind voice bothering you every two second. Case in point: the time I tried to imitate Sarah Cowells style of writing using her piece 'The Partly Cloudy Patriot'. This is how it went:   I'm pretty sure I was in my living room, trying to take a nap when I heard the news. India had landed a rover on the moon. My first thought was 'They don't already have one there'. Everyone thought I was funny. I did not. Truly, the event felt disconnected to me. I should have felt proud or happy at the least, but no matter what I tried,  found it unsettlingly hard to express my joy. Now most people don't see what's wrong with this. I clearly can't help but critique my writing (is this something all writers share?), but let's take a moment to discusses the main point of the diction of Sarah Vowell's piece: humor. She tries her hardest to relate to younger audienc

I propose a hypothetical situation: If a doctor tells a patient that they’re fine even when they aren’t, in the name of protecting them, it becomes a medical crime. However, the doctor was trying to protect their patient. I mean sure, everyone out here thinks that they need to protect someone. Parents try to protect their children. Siblings protect each other and so do friends. We all want the best for the people we love. That’s a basic fact. So why do we suffocate them in the name of protection? It’s a controversial topic, that’s for sure. No one wants to be told how to take care of the people they love, but the fact is that sometime protection can become toxic. Coming back to the doctor situation, the way I look at it at least, it’s clear that intentions don’t define actions to an extent. In another situation of a mother trying to protect her young child from the realities of the world, it is valid for her to be overbearing to ensure that her child is on the right path in life. Shoul