MyStory Mondays is a weekly digest of our latest posts.
We are all done for the semester, but we are going to go back in time and share some posts that, we hope, will be useful to our new Danes!
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This week’s installment of MyStory Mondays focuses on the idea of home. We hope that UAlbany becomes your home away from home. Check out the stories from students who, though very differently, found comfort and peace right here.
My home is always crowded and filled with some polite and some rude strangers but many familiar faces. Music is always loud in my house; sometimes it’s Spanish, sometimes it’s something indistinguishable, sometimes it’s whatever’s playing too loudly from the headphones off the dude next to me. The TV is always blaring- somewhere. And if you listen just close enough in the summer, you’ll always hear a basketball bouncing, a horn blowing, and a couple having an argument. My house is known to party a little bit too hard and a lot bit too loud but in my opinion, its endless epicness.
If you were to ask me where my home is, I would say to you that it is New York City.
When I think of home, I think of the Rufus King Park where I spent my childhood trying to learn how to ride a bike without training wheels (I’ve yet to learn by the way.) and how the walk to school would be a killer in the winter snow. I think of the students bullying me in elementary school and teachers not doing anything about it and how I would end up sitting next to my teacher on every school trip because I didn’t have friends. I think of switching schools and being put in the top honors classes where I took classes years ahead my grade level. Jackson Heights; where I bought my first cell phone and the Queens Center Mall where my mum bought me my first skinny jeans (after great debate haha). But the best of it all- I think of Forest Hills high school. Read More from Simonti Banik’s MyStory Series, “Writing My Own Chapter“
Freedom is a beautiful thing. It can also be a dangerous thing. Growing up in my household could be suffocating at times. My dad is a hard worker who, because of his job, has seen what real dangers exist in the world, dangers a teenage girl like me never take seriously. Because of this my dad was very protective of me and my siblings, tracking our phones and constantly checking in on us. It made him hard to talk to when all it seemed like he was doing was ruining my fun. My mom went along with whatever my dad decided, often acting as the enforcer of my dad’s rules. It made it hard to experience anything and it definitely made me naïve. Click Here to Read More.
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