half note

I know I risk beating a dead horse by saying this, but seriously. It is really tricky growing up as an American Indian in an Indian American household when you're actually neither.
Neither Indian nor American, because what you actually are is confused.
I come from the world where it's okay to call your parents and teachers by name, but absolutely ridiculous/rude to visit someone uninvited.
I also come from the world where RSVPs have no meaning, and if you do make this impromptu visit to someone's house, you better brace yourself and the entirety of your intestines because you will be rewarded for this rude and random visit of yours with mountains and mountains of food. IF of course you are the polite kid that your parents raised you to be, and you address all your elders not by name, no, but with respect. Maa'm versus Sarah, Uncle vs. Mr. Joe Doe, Akka (elder sister) vs. Mary, the girl next door who is elder to me by like barely five months or something.

I come from the world where all the kids are supposed to fly away and be free and discover themselves or something like that. I come from the world where kids have to pay their parents rent for living within the very four walls that watched them cry over unrequited crushes, lost sweaters and failed classes.

 I also come from the world where it's completely expected and normal to live at home until you're married and the burden of another man, another home.

I come from half of this world, and half of that world. A half note here, and a half note there.

But together, they sound pretty decent.

I am beyond thankful for the opportunity to have performed with the Tulane Ladies Acapella group a week ago. Our rendition of La La La/O Re Piya came out quite nicely if I say so myself...and I do. Love these ladies, and their gorgeous voices so so so much.

There is some sense to this nonsense.