Interesting new fact that I found out today: 11% of the United Arab Emirates population is native. What does this mean for national identity?
Sure, the remaining 89% is somewhat like the native population in terms of religion and they are learning Arabic and all. But my experience with 1st generation immigrants (not specific to UAE) is that they are different than the native population. It's not just one city overflowing with immigrants in a large nation, it's the entire nation. How does the South Asian population (57%) assimilate into the nation's 11% population? Hurray for diversity and all, the face of the nation is totally changed. What does this mean for national identity?
I've been thinking a little about national identities recently after I did the math and realized that a nation of 2.5 million people with an annual birth of 50,000 cannot become 3 million in 10 years. Someone must have died. I have no idea how the math works out.
I have no idea how the dollars and cents work out. It's for the economy, for the livelihood, for nation-building. But the nation is changed. I have no idea if the price is worthy. Something grew and changed. While change must happen and is good, I have suddenly lost sight of how having changed the handle three times, and the blade twice, the farmer's favorite axe is still the same. I'm missing something in the math.
Wednesday, June 27, 2007
Thursday, June 14, 2007
Looking for my reader
It's never good when you have to start a blog entry by asking your readers if you've already written about something. I know that I can go back and read all my posts since it is sort of my responsibility to ensure that I don't repeat myself. But you can clearly see that I'm trying to make excuses here, and that I never got around to doing basic research. Well then, let me know if this post reads rather familiarly, and I'll be grateful if you could tell me in which entry I've already mentioned this problem.
My problem is this: I don't have an audience. I enjoy writing, but I feel like I don't have an audience. Maybe it doesn't really happen this way. I imagine that a writer knows who he's writing for, and caters to his audience that way. I know that here, I am writing to my friends and I can just be myself. But what happens when you want to sell real short stories and books? Who are you writing for? The man who enjoys horror stories, or the woman who wants to lose herself in another woman's love affairs? The young student who fantasizes about being a cook in Italy, or the just-retired grandfather who has been wondering about making a pilgrimage? Am I doing it all wrong? Is it supposed to just flow from inside of you and find its own audience?
It's been a long time since I've written fiction. Back in school, we'd imagine lives similar to ours and write about them. But if I were to write about things that I know about, who would read it? For one, it's pretty boring stuff. Another concern is that the niche market of Asian students in the USA isn't exactly the easiest audience to go for -- our backgrounds are all very different, and our American experience really depends on where in the US we are, and who we chose to hang out with. And really, if I'm to write about a life similar to mine, why don't I just write about me?
I probably haven't been trying hard enough. Maybe I'll work a little harder. For some reason, someone near me is making me want to be a better person. You can't say that I'm an awful person, but we can always be better. I'm currently inspired.
My problem is this: I don't have an audience. I enjoy writing, but I feel like I don't have an audience. Maybe it doesn't really happen this way. I imagine that a writer knows who he's writing for, and caters to his audience that way. I know that here, I am writing to my friends and I can just be myself. But what happens when you want to sell real short stories and books? Who are you writing for? The man who enjoys horror stories, or the woman who wants to lose herself in another woman's love affairs? The young student who fantasizes about being a cook in Italy, or the just-retired grandfather who has been wondering about making a pilgrimage? Am I doing it all wrong? Is it supposed to just flow from inside of you and find its own audience?
It's been a long time since I've written fiction. Back in school, we'd imagine lives similar to ours and write about them. But if I were to write about things that I know about, who would read it? For one, it's pretty boring stuff. Another concern is that the niche market of Asian students in the USA isn't exactly the easiest audience to go for -- our backgrounds are all very different, and our American experience really depends on where in the US we are, and who we chose to hang out with. And really, if I'm to write about a life similar to mine, why don't I just write about me?
I probably haven't been trying hard enough. Maybe I'll work a little harder. For some reason, someone near me is making me want to be a better person. You can't say that I'm an awful person, but we can always be better. I'm currently inspired.
Wednesday, June 06, 2007
A life's lesson revisited
Did they really need to spend millions of dollars sequencing the human genome to find out that humans are 99.9% identical to each other? Well, in actuality it's more than 99.9% but that's not my point.
It was Class Day today, and the kids were fortunate in being able to get former president Bill Clinton as their speaker. He talked about a few things, but his main message (as far as I was willing to listen through my prejudices) was that humans are 99.9% alike, but we choose to focus on that 1/10th of one percent. In our need to feel special, we focus on what makes us unique and forget the bigger picture: that we are more alike than not. That last line was a personal thought by the way.
I've always had this One theory about the world. I first articulated it when I was 18, and I've not really thought about it since. That was the era before the human genome was sequenced, and I had no way of proving that humans were really all the same. It just seemed obvious -- the same emotions, the same life events, the empathy (even though we choose to ignore that because we cling on to the notion that we are unique). I'd just had my first taste of the world, and what I saw was that everyone was given a different situation in life, but we were basically the same people.
It is the same with time -- it flows through and connects us all. It's hard to remember that when you're on a little island with almost no sense of history. But even in a modern and fleeting place like New York City, it's not hard to remember and imagine how things all began. We are all one, connected through our common experiences as humans regardless of the era in which we live.
Clinton told a parable about a farmer's axe. A farmer had a favorite axe, even though he's replaced the blade three times, and the handle twice. I see the world in the same way, and I hope that the next time I meet someone new that I cannot take a liking to, I will try my best knowing that we are pretty alike.
To my little sister who is about to embark on the first of the biggest of journeys in her life, I have a message. I want her to know that the native person whose land your foreign feet will tread upon is not very different from any other person. Look for what you have in common and learn to relate to any man on Earth because he is your brother. Keep in mind though that family is still capable of harming each other.
It was Class Day today, and the kids were fortunate in being able to get former president Bill Clinton as their speaker. He talked about a few things, but his main message (as far as I was willing to listen through my prejudices) was that humans are 99.9% alike, but we choose to focus on that 1/10th of one percent. In our need to feel special, we focus on what makes us unique and forget the bigger picture: that we are more alike than not. That last line was a personal thought by the way.
I've always had this One theory about the world. I first articulated it when I was 18, and I've not really thought about it since. That was the era before the human genome was sequenced, and I had no way of proving that humans were really all the same. It just seemed obvious -- the same emotions, the same life events, the empathy (even though we choose to ignore that because we cling on to the notion that we are unique). I'd just had my first taste of the world, and what I saw was that everyone was given a different situation in life, but we were basically the same people.
It is the same with time -- it flows through and connects us all. It's hard to remember that when you're on a little island with almost no sense of history. But even in a modern and fleeting place like New York City, it's not hard to remember and imagine how things all began. We are all one, connected through our common experiences as humans regardless of the era in which we live.
Clinton told a parable about a farmer's axe. A farmer had a favorite axe, even though he's replaced the blade three times, and the handle twice. I see the world in the same way, and I hope that the next time I meet someone new that I cannot take a liking to, I will try my best knowing that we are pretty alike.
To my little sister who is about to embark on the first of the biggest of journeys in her life, I have a message. I want her to know that the native person whose land your foreign feet will tread upon is not very different from any other person. Look for what you have in common and learn to relate to any man on Earth because he is your brother. Keep in mind though that family is still capable of harming each other.
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