SOPA and PIPA

I think that SOPA and PIPA are perfectly justified.
But I still don't like them.
They are justified because of course the US has had its eye on anti-piracy for a long time. It's just now they're cracking down. And I personally feel that people have been violating copyright laws left and right for a long time. Heck, even I do, and visit places that openly violate those laws. But all of a sudden all these protests have sprung up on how this is bad- on how it's going to take away freedom on personal sites and blogs etc. and all of a sudden Wikipedia says it's going to a blackout and now I'm getting a little worried.
I wonder if they do get passed. If they do, will all this happen? A lot of videos and sites are going to be affected by this. These two bills, if passed will revolutionize the web- though according to critics of the bill not in a good way.
Will the web never be the same again? Will other countries follow US's example if the bill is past?
Or will the web be the copyright infringing place it was before (the place we all know and love)?

Our Own Worlds

My legs and my arms felt like they were going to fall off, they were so tired.
I feebly lifted my arms out of the water, then they collapsed back in. If my swim teacher was here right now, I knew I was in for the worst scolding of my life. I lifted my head as I got ready for the headbutt and saw how beautifully the swimmer in front was lifting her arms up and apparently effortlessly gliding along in a trail of frothing bubbles.

She must be superhuman, I decide.

As we start on the backstroke, I lag behind. I know I was always last, just this time, more so. By the time I reach the end of the two laps, the first people are already going for the next set of laps. I get ready to go, too, but I am stopped by the swim coach. I knew this was going to happen. Someone was bound to notice. 

"Take a rest when you need to." he says, then adds, "Are you sure you want to do the swim meet on the fourth?" 

I know there is only one answer to this question. When I got into the swim team, even after being last all the time in the tryouts, I knew that I was sticking with it, no matter how hard it was. This was not a time to give up. No matter how hard it was, I had to keep doing it. I wasn't a coward, wasn't afraid of what other people said. I was going to this, for better or worse. 

"Yes," I say, hopefully determinedly.

"OK then... so what are your strengths?" He quizzes me, trying to determine my level in swimming. Then the first swimmers start to return, and he walks away. I look up at my mother, sitting on the bleachers. That short rest has rested me as little as I can get, and I am not as bone tired to tackle the freestyle lap. 

The swim team has really taught me a lot, about myself, about how to tackle problems, about the world. When I first came back from the tryouts, I was shocked out of my wits. For years I had maintained a vision about myself that I was a good swimmer, that I was gifted. I was with people two years my senior in my swim class, and I considered myself talented in swimming. 

That was the first time I had ever swam with people my age who were much, much better than me. In my swim classes in school, everyone had been mostly average, and any doubts I had had I swept away with a broom of thoughts like 'This is not my full potential'. I had come to the swim tryouts full of confidence, full of confidence that I would leave everyone else in the bubbles. 

Now, I was the one in that position.

At the tryouts, we had started with the freestyle, and I had emerged from the water shaken. I had been last, with a time of 00:51. I knew it was the best that I could do, perhaps the best I had ever done, but most had cruised through the water with times like 00:36 to 00:40. I knew I was out of my class. 

When I came out and was greeted by my mother, my first words were, "I was terrible."

My mother had agreed, but said one thing I will never ever forget:

"We all live in our own worlds; if some of those girls had met the ones from the Chinese schools...."

She urged me not to give up, not to lose hope. I didn't. 

And I won't start now.

I'll be there at the swim meet on the fourth.

Parikrma

Imagine you are a child- the child of a deceased father and a mother who works all day. No one in your family has ever gone to school. You live in the slums- a room barely the size of a closet, a bed bulging out of it, is your home.

An auto rickshaw- India's taxi

You hear of something- a school. A free school, for kids like you. You jump at the chance. Your mother supports this choice. She wishes she had enough money to send you yourself, but she doesn't. So everyday, you, your brother, and other children you know pile into the auto rickshaw that someone's father drives everyday for a living. You go to school, a clean place. You sit huddled around tables while a teacher tells you about things you have never heard of till now- Arithmetic and English and Hindi and Reading. It is a foreign language, but you drink in eagerly. You wish to learn and stuff your brain till it bursts. You want to make up for your heritage and rise from the slums and walk along the goras (white people) rather than have them look at you pitifully.
Six months later-
Now, you speak confident and fluent English. You are top of your class. Your mother is so proud of you. So proud. You are going up in the world.
This school is called Parikrma.
I visited it this winter. I played kabaddi with kids my age. I did some sums with them. They accepted me. I was their friend. It was amazing.
When I went, they gave me a card. Inside it was written:
Dear Tanvi Akka,
Thank you for being our friend.
From,
The Children of Parikrma
03.01.2012
All children are not so lucky. 18% ofchildren in India are illiterate. Many are from the slums. I'm not part of Parikrma or anything. I'm just an individual. I'm not doing this for commercial purposes or as a fundraiser, even. Just have a look at the website. Have a look. Maybe you'll help, maybe not. It depends.
Think about it.

First Time

I step into the school.
I look
at all the children
rushing by
heedless of me
going to wherever
whenever
paying no attention to my now
Where should I go?
My head swivels left
then right
but all I see is an endless wave
of children
and multicolored schoolbags
I look at my bag.
It is a pitiful grey
with no keychains to jangle cheerfully
I don't know what to do.
I look at the paper the headmistress gave me
a mess of Art and Science and English and Math
in neat little blocks
I don't know when's now
I can't tell if that's then
I feel like huddling up
in a little ball
and crying.
Sobbing like I haven't in years.
A tear drips onto the paper
blending History and Drama.
I feel a shadow.
Are they taunting me now?
Because of my five years of home schooling?
I look up- but it is only a girl
with hair hanging down in beautiful gold waves
"Hey?"
She asks me.
"You need some help?"
I nod, and hold up a hand.
She takes me to a classroom with her.
The teacher looks nice enough.
The desks look clean enough.
The kids kook friendly enough.
I sit down.

(Note: I am not home-schooled. In this, she is homeschooled only because there was no other reason to explain her confusion with school.)