Sne's Blog

It was the usual evening walk. Down towards Castro Street, Mountain View and back home with my dad. As we neared Castro we heard a lot of honking, and my father was quick to compare it to Bangladesh and I said it resembled New York, where I had just visited earlier in the summer and wished I could live in the NYU dorms. Still baffled, we came to the crossing and saw police cars waiting and driving around the area so we observed and saw a protest taking place. The American flags were waving high and banners were being carried. “Dad we have to go! Please!”  I pleaded to my father to let me go. My father, also eager to join, decided we can go with the demonstration. I kept an ear out, listening to see what exactly was being protested. I scanned the crowd and I smiled as I saw older generations some with children and some with grey hair walking in the march. I knew this was not just a battle that the young were fighting. The old generation gave me hope. We were in the back of the

New York. I had declared this city my future home. I no longer referred to my future saying "if" or "hopefully", instead  I say “when”. The last day before leaving, I went with my mother on self guided tour of Columbia University, a prestigious Ivy league university, and NYU, the one university I could not stop talking about since last February. Before all of this, we toured Brooklyn via a food tour guide and once again I had fallen in love with this entire area. Chinatown as well as an Eastern European part of Brooklyn really shows the diversity of the city and I'm happy to say I was not shocked. This is what attracts me to this part of America. There is that struggle to make it and a sense of toughness, it doesn't matter if you grew up here or if you immigrated like I did. Change is fundamental to who I am as a person and New York fits that perfectly because there is always something new to try. Take the subway, Uber or even a cab and yo

The story of a my life just till the age 15 is enough to write a book on everything I observed. It is the story of getting lost in translation, in a colorless world, in a half deaf world, in a world with nowhere to belong. Who am I? ________________________________________________________________________ “ Rosy checks” that is the first nick name I got from my doctors after I was born. Little did I know then that I’d be going there for the rest of my fifteen years. My mother, barely surviving the birth, heard the news about my ear. Microsia and atresia, sounds pretty magical right? Like some kingdoms in some little story book tucked away in a child's bedroom. I often wonder if my parents knew that I was born with chronic asthma and an ear defect that they would have changed me… you know though all those DNA engineering, but then again I would be nothing without those features. My hair like a mini afro mimicked the curls of the men in my family. Rosy, the only col

Failing … the dystopian dream Education is something nearly all kids in the developed nations (a.k.a .the west) take for granted including myself. So many adults and children write and talk about how the education system is not right and has an endless list of complaints on reform. It is so fascinating that we somehow came up with this idea where we spend a minimum of twelve years of our life being educating just to go to another school which is insane and yet I do not know of another system. Education is different throughout the world. In Denmark there is little to no stress. Homework are always turned in and kids come to school on time with no form of penalty. There are no grades to hold a student accountable yet we all do our best without the education board holding a carrot in front of us. Grades are introduced in 8th grade (Danish schooling system) and is continued after. Vocational tracks are made to accompany each student and their skills. Up until then our assignment

Generation Internet         Before the 1990s the internet did not exist and when it did, it was still not seen as a necessity, which is hard to believe now that we don't go an entire day without logging in to check the news or looking up some random fact to prove your friend wrong. The internet has become a platform for people to connect and share their lives with millions of others; nonetheless, with every new invention comes backlash and criticism. Many older generation members argue that the “age of the internet” has made younger generations worse at communication. For example losing the skill of listening or understanding. Now at this point many people will start saying “well that is true and…”, but it is not true.  The internet has become a bond that brings generations of people with all different stories together. Through Facebook, instagram, Snapchat, twitter, and even older platforms that people almost forgot about like MySpace, has created this phenomena where I can d