What I'll Miss About Boston

I’ve only been back in Toronto a day, but I already miss Boston. Even though the trip home only takes about three hours, I’m jetlagged. And no, there isn’t a time difference between Boston and Toronto.

I’ve spend six months as a fulltime graduate student at Harvard, but my stay in Boston feels so surreal. I was drowned in books and papers, and was swamped with internship assignments, readings, and exams. I didn't notice how fast the hours were passing.

I wish I had more free time to enjoy the city and its greater area. Looking forward to going out “next weekend” is a cycle that ends when next weekends peter out, but I’m glad I walked around Harvard Yard, Cambridge Common, and Harvard Square. I’m happy I got the chance to explore Boston’s Long Wharf and North End, Boston Common and Beacon Hill, Copley Square and Back Bay.

Here’s what I’ll miss most about Boston (in no particular order, just because I can’t decide which ones I’ll miss more):

• Waking up and looking onto the Charles River.
• My classes, my amazing professors, and wonderful classmates. I’m lucky to have met them.
• The ocean. The smell of the sea, the sound of the waves, the salty breeze.
• The seafood. Oh, the seafood.
• The Bostonians. The nicest people I’ve ever met.

• The walk—in the summer. 
• The weather. As cold as it gets, it’s still more bearable than Toronto’s chills.
• Boston’s eclectic architecture. The mix of the old and the new. History and modernism. Love it.
• The landscape: an elevation of beautiful structures hugged by an assembly of trees.
• The feeling that Boston is where I can learn to exceed my academic and professional potentials. 

Thanks to all who made my stay a memorable one. I'll be back.

What Blogging is All About

“No technical tool is going to revolutionize anything. It’s how people use the tool that makes the revolution happen,” said David Sifry, Founder and CEO of the blog search engine Technorati, in an interview published in Bob Walsh’s Clear Blogging.

Blogging has changed the way people express themselves and communicate with others. The interaction between the disseminator of information and its receivers is now instant and dynamic.

Andrew Sullivan from the Atlantic defines a blog as “a log of thoughts and writing posted publicly on the World Wide Web.” The creation of blogs and other networking sites makes Marshall McLuhan’s vision of the Global Village a reality. Because of new media, the world is a smaller place.

Blogging is so versatile that people can use it to meet diverse needs and objectives: recounting personal experiences, setting up entertainment hubs, publishing pure reporting, or even maximizing business opportunities. It can be independent or affiliated, published on hosted or unhosted platforms.

With these options and more, how blogs are used is really up to the bloggers themselves. But good blogs should publish accurate information, and include literary components, like quality writing and a takeaway:

Bloggers have redefined journalism. Are all bloggers journalists? According to the Federal Trade Commission, no. But that doesn’t change the fact that citizen journalism—when those who have no formal journalistic training collect and publish non-fictitious content—has become an essential means of acquiring news. John Kelly, a former Reuters Fellow and Washington Post columnist, spoke about citizen journalism at the 2009 Oxford Social Media Convention:

Kelly pointed to the wide range and diversity of citizen journalism as proof that it is now an established field—sometimes a complement to existing journalism provision, but also sometimes an outright replacement. It's not only technology driving this development but also a widespread sense that the mainstream media are failing in their coverage—journalists are becoming part of the establishment rather than being outsiders critiquing it, and this has created a niche for citizen journalism as an alternative to the mainstream.

Good bloggers have to also be good storytellers. And what better storytellers are there than personal essayists like Virginia Woolf and E.B. White to have as role models. Their work is full of vivid imagery and replete with sharp themes. They represent every successful writer—one who has adopted engaging prose, developed alluring plot, and established control of voice. These elements apply to good writing regardless of medium.

In The Art of Personal Essay, Phillip Lopate states:

The personal essayist must above all be a reliable narrator; we must trust his or her core of sincerity. We must also feel secure that the essayist has done a fair amount of introspective homework already, is grounded in reality, and is trying to give us the maximum understanding and intelligence of which he or she is capable.

If one were to replace 'personal essayist' with 'blogger', the above quote would explain the essence of good blogging. A blogger has to build credibility and transparency. Without them, the crucial blogger-reader trust relationship would not be possible. Lopate, although addressing the art of personal essay writing, also highlights what should be the aim of all bloggers: “The conversational dynamic—the desire for contact – is ingrained in the form, and serves to establish a quick emotional intimacy with the audience.”

Once bloggers establish a strong foundation built on accurate information, quality writing, intimacy and trust, audience interest and success will follow.

Sense and Simplicity—What Dubai Needs

I spotted this cartoon in USA Today two days ago, and it took me back a year.

I was in Dubai same time last year for my cousin’s wedding. I was born and raised in Dubai before moving to Toronto, so going back after a twelve-year absence felt like a fairytale.

On my flight there, I remembered a few high-rise buildings—not the tallest skyscrapers in the world. I remembered single rows of villas—not blocks of lit-up complexes. I remembered bare shores—not ones extended in the shapes of palms and the map of the world.

The city has come a long way. But I couldn’t help wonder about the obsession it has with being the world’s largest, tallest, or best at anything and everything. The marble floors and glass walls felt cold. The brand new seemed spiritless. The city was on the brink of an economic meltdown.

A week before my cousin got married, we went to her friend’s wedding. It was important for my cousin to go, since her wedding was to take place in the same hall. She had two invitations and asked me to come along. She wanted to see service in action and get the feel of her big day.

The invitation cards listed 7pm as guest-arrival time. But thanks to Dubai’s busy roads, we arrived at 8pm. And we were early.

We made our way to our table. I slid in my seat and glanced around. The décor was pulled out of an Aladdin movie. A silk backdrop shimmered under the bright light. Four large flower bundles hung against it. Instead of a head table, an Arabian-nights-themed loveseat with intricately sewn embroidery sat on a stage under a feathered and laced ivory canopy net. The netting draped from a golden crown-shaped top and was held back with curtain holders. Crystal bead-strings glimmered everywhere. More bouquets blanketed the stage, and three elevated golden flower stands rested on both sides of the loveseat.

“My stage is not gonna have all that,” my cousin said with her eyes transfixed at the bead-strings. “Yeah…Mine’s gonna be different.”

At 9pm, guests started flooding in, and waiters began bringing more chairs and lining them against the wall. There were more guests than invited. The waiters scurried since the bride and groom were to make their grand entrance at any moment.

An hour later, a big video screen to the right of the stage lit up. A film started playing, recounting the events earlier in the day: the bride’s makeup session, the photo shoot, the families’ drive to the hall, the groom’s frowns, the couple’s arguments, the in-laws’ disputes.

“Mine’s gonna be edited,” my cousin whispered with her eyes locked at the screen. “Yeah…it won’t show all that.”

The couple walked in at 11pm. The bride shook her head. Her makeup did not resemble Princess Jasmine’s. She looked like the Incredible Hulk. Her foundation was green. Her eyelids flickered with neon green eye shadow, and long fake eyelashes fluttered as she held back her tears. Her face was covered with glitter. As she made her way to the dance floor with her groom, her veil started to droop. She locked eyes with my cousin.

“Oh my God,” my cousin whispered. She got up and walked to her friend. I saw my cousin mouth, “It’s OK,” before slipping the veil back into the blown-up chignon.

The guests watched the wedding planner wheel in an electric smoke generator as the couple slow danced on the floor. She blasted smoke at full speed and the couple disappeared amid the white haze.

My cousin and I left the hall at midnight. Before dinner was served.

I saw the bride again at my cousin’s wedding. She didn’t have green eye shadow or glitter smothered all over her face. With little make up and a black pencil dress, she was beautiful. Simple can be so elegant.

Maybe simple can be Dubai's Happily Ever After.