NaNoWriMo: The First Experience

This year was my first year participating in National Novel Writing Month, NaNoWriMo is a nonprofit organization established in 1999, aimed at getting people to sit down and write 50,000 words in the month of November (that's 1,667 words a day, if you were wondering). Did you know that Water for Elephants was born as a result of this program? Over 250 novels that started as NaNo novels were published traditionally.

Sounds great, right?

Try looking at it from the other end of the straw.

As a full-time college student, this proved to be a challenge. November is one of the more busier months since it steadily nears exam time early December. Regardless, I took the challenge. With three days left and less than 20k written, I've simply given up on trying to "win," though I will continue my started novel at a more leisurely pace.

Yes I'll still be in college next year, but I'm still going to try again. Why? Here's three reasons, ones I've seen and heard, then engraved into my Declaration of Insanity, written and Hancocked by me, of course.

1. Bragging rights: You get to say you wrote a novel in a month. Yes, 50k is hardly a novel and the writing you produce will not be pristine, but that doesn't matter. You accomplished something great. You can say you wrote 50k in a month. That's more than fantastic.

2. It's on paper: In a frantic state of trying to match a word-count, you will be spewing idea from the very depths and crevasses of your mind. Worry not about how bizarre, or even how weird it may be, because you probably created a beginning, middle, and end to a great book. Now the fun part begins! You've got a figment of a story written out, and now you can go back in and mold it into something fantastic. You took care of the hard part, and now the fun begins.

3. Discipline & habit: After taking time to write and write quickly, you start to type faster and more consistently. However, you also realize a thousand words might be like extracting a thorn from your foot and spend half a day just trying to crunch out those words, or you could write two thousand within the hour and still be pumped. Either way, you are challenging yourself to write significant amount of words every day, and that is more than anyone can say when doing something as intense and mind-taxing as this.

Moral of the story: Check it out; you won't regret it.

The Reality of Chivalry: Satire of the Chivalric Code in "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight"

I plan on writing a series of essays about this epic poem, as I saw a lot of themes I want to address. Besides, I adore this piece very much. If you are not familiar with the poem, you might want to read a summary before diving in. 

**

          Looking back at world history textbooks of elementary school, we were taught the basics of the Middle Ages from the social status hierarchy to the chivalric code. We learned about the courting way of marriage and the bravery that was the knights’ order, and thus, while growing up and accustoming the world around us, we already began look back on those times and feel nostalgic for the eras of these dashing knights in shining armor, where ladies swooned over men who had a love of poetry and romance. Our minds start to churn fantastic tales of highly romanticized gentlemen, and many of us are unaware stories like these were also fantastic tales churned by medieval people living through that time period. It seems that even in their fictional texts, they were nostalgic about their past, of knights they thought (or hoped) existed in their histories. Though, in the text Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, the writer not only romanticizes a knight as many other texts do, but also acknowledges what could be the flaws in knighthood and chivalry through satirical contrasts. These elements occur with the silence of the court before the Green Knight, the game played with the host’s maiden, and the mocking of Gawain in the final scene.  

          When the Green Knight arrives, he challenges valor, one the aspects of chivalry. The Green Knight begins by honoring the many great feats he has heard about Arthur and his court and then explains a little game he wishes to play that a show of valor and a sacrifice. The court falls silent, to which the Green Knight scans the crowd and bellows, “‘What, is this Arthur’s house…that everyone talks of in so many kingdoms? Where are now your arrogance and your victories, Your fierceness and wrath and your great speeches? Now the revelry and repute of the Round Table, Are overthrown with a word from one man’s mouth, For you all cower in fear before a blow has been struck!’” (L. 309-315). The Green Knight accuses the court of being cowardly to the degree that Arthur feels the need to step up to defend his knights’ honor. This embarrassment portrays a possible alternative to the bravery that should be a typical quality of a chivalrous knight, and yet not a single one of the men decide to defend their king except Arthur’s nephew, Sir Gawain. Gawain is written to appear as the only honorable one in the court. In his brief speech, he humbly says he is the “weakest of them” and the “dullest-minded” (L. 354). He gracefully moves to kneel before Arthur and takes the weapon from him. The descriptions of Gawain’s actions show valor and strength, a much-need contrast (for the nostalgic reader) to the disgrace the court shows in the face of the Knight. This satire plays in with the idea that knights are often portrayed to often fight each other for the honor of representing their king, and to be announced as valiant for the deeds committed in his name, but yet the court remained silent.

          Aside from valor, the text also satirizes the code of love that knights allegedly hold, though the main point being the romantic aspect of speaking to a woman more than protecting their honor, although that plays a great role in Gawain’s choices. His chivalry is put to the test with the game of exchanges when he stayed at the castle as a guest. On the second day, the maiden is astonished at Sir Gawain’s lack of love-talking, a courtly manner of flattering women to which knights are expected to excel in. Earlier on in the text, the host is delighted by the coming of Sir Gawain, and tells his court, “This man has expertise; I think that those who hear him, Will learn what love-talk is” (L. 925-927). This is a foreshadowing to the game following, in which the host’s maiden continues to provoke Gawain into bedding her.

                    “I would learn from you, sir,” said that gentle lady,

                    “If the question was not irksome, what the reason was

          1510  That someone as young and valiant as yourself, 

                     So courteous and chivalrous as you are known far and wide—

                     And of all the aspects of chivalry, the thing most praised 

                     Is the true practice of love, knighthood’s very lore;

                     For to speak of the endeavors of true knights,

          1515  The written heading and text of their deeds is that:

                     How nights have ventured their lives for true love,

                     Suffered for their love-longings dismal times,

                     And later taken revenge on their misery through valor,

                     Bringing joy to their ladies through their personal merits—

          1520  And you are the outstanding knight of your time, 

                     Your fame and your honor are known everywhere,

                     And I have sat by you here on two separate occasions 

                     Yet never heard from your mouth a solitary word

                     Referring to love, of any kind at all.  (SGGK, 1508-1520)

          This speech by the maiden illustrates one of the key features romanticized in the chivalric code. Though Gawain seems to be the only knight in the story who is following the code, the maiden claims that he is dishonoring it by not bedding her. The word “lore” used in line 1513 is a strong word, one that would imply much more than a basic idea, but a doctrine or law. It creates a deeper sense of the meaning and elevates the importance of love-talk to knights. Moreover, her description of knights taking “revenge on their misery through valor” is a common trope in many medieval tales written in our time period, and to see a reference of it in a medieval text confirms that they took pleasure in such romanticizing the angst of the knight much as we do in modern texts set in medieval times, so in a sense, the maiden could have been nostalgic about such tales and wished to witness it herself. The maiden’s speech touched Gawain and he allows her another kiss to keep her content while stealthily avoiding giving in to her request. Thus, Gawain uses his love-talk to avert a lady away from bedding him instead of sleeping with her despite her persistency, “but he defended himself so skillfully that no fault appeared,” (L. 1551). The way he used his “love-talking” is a satire to the use of that knightly skill, that, instead of using it to gain a woman’s favor, he is artfully using it to keep her away.

           Towards the end of the piece, the codes of unity and honor are satirized upon Gawain’s return to the castle. Gawain returns wearing across his chest the green girdle that the host’s maiden gives him. He decides to wear it as a reminder of his cowardly actions, which is an honorable gesture that runs very special to him. Upon his return, he shamefully recounts the tale and explains, “‘This belt caused the scar that I bear on my neck; This is the injury and damage that I have suffered, For the cowardice and covetousness that seized me there; This is the token of the dishonesty I was caught committing, And now I must wear it as long as I live. For a man may hide his misdeed, but never erase it, For where once it takes root the stain can never be lifted’” (L. 2506-2512). He vows to wear it as a form of penance for being dishonest, but following his honorable speech, the knights and the court laugh at him, and Arthur proposes that all lord and ladies who belong to the Round Table should wear a green belt like Gawain’s and be honored much the same. Thus, while Gawain attempted to add a statement dress to his attire to stand out among his knights, he in turn is rewarded with a downplaying of his gesture in the name of unity and honor.

          The use of satire throughout the text made jest to the nostalgic glories of medieval fiction. By taking apart the aspects of the code, it was made laughable, and the end of the joke was directed at Gawain, who seemed to follow the code the most. By looking at valor, in which Gawain stepped in when no true threat was truly prevalent; love-talking, where he needed to use his skills to keep away from bedding a woman; and unity and honor, to which were used to downplay the trueness of the act that Gawain performed all illustrate how the code was put to laughable use. Besides that, it played upon a text that is part of the Arthurian Legends, tales that constantly implied the grandeur of the medieval times. Instead of this being simply another flourishing tale, it jabbed at the code and even the idea of being nostalgic to a time that, contrary to popular fiction, was not all polished armor and glorious banquets. 

**

Other essays:

Fiction in the Schooling System

Analyzing Lyrics: "Something More"

"The sky is so tragically beautiful. A graveyard of stars."

I came across this image on Tumblr the other night. Sadly, I couldn't find a source for neither the Arabic nor the English translation. Something really nagged me about this, and when it hit me, it was haunting. You know what's tragic about the stars? The fact that some stars you might see in the night sky are no longer there, but they're so far that it takes time before their light fades away for us. Then it got me thinking that they're kind of like our loved ones who pass on. It takes time for them to leave our hearts long after they've left us. So in a way, our hearts are as tragic as the night sky.

Around Arabia in 20 Days: UAE - Unrequited Arab Elegance

Beyond the dust and white haze of the city was a neighborhood-like place. All gated with stone walls and iron gates. I didn't realize why that was necessary, so I just assumed they didn't' have security systems like ADT with a police force at their fingertips--but soon it really struck me why the extra precautions. 

My aunt lived in a little palace. 

A villa, they called it. Four stories of marble floors and glittering chandeliers, curving staircases and light fixtures made out of stained glass. Elegant sink-right-in couches and gorgeous curtains and tapestries.  

"Pardon our dust," she had said. "We're revamping our pool." 

Talk about a water wonderland. A beautiful deep pool with waterfalls running along the outside. Barstools in the water next to a marble countertop. I didn't get what they were revamping. 

I was to be sharing a room with my sister on the third floor, which alone had five bedrooms. The floor above had two more. I was told this was the room my cousin slept in when she would visit my aunt. She lived in an apartment complex with her husband and daughter but would come sleep at her mom's when her husband was busy or sometimes she would pack both their bags and tell him they were going to go to the villa and spend the day barbecuing over there, and then sleep in the villa that evening. He wouldn't complain. 

Despite the hubbub downstairs, the first thing I did was set my bags down and excused myself to sleep. It was a rather lame move but jetlag would do that to you. So I slipped my shoes off and wondered for a moment why the ground couldn't just be carpet, until I figured out two plausible reasons; one, it was high maintenance with the dust billowing outside; and two, it was much too hot for carpet. The coolness of the floor actually felt kinda good. 

After my rather long nap (did i seriously just sleep for four hours), I made myself look somewhat presentable and I trudged downstairs--and was greeted by more cousins and aunts and we all chittered about nearly everything jovial under the sun. Any talk of Syria or the heaviness that came with that topic was set aside. We were honored guests, after all! 

It seemed that I had missed the feast my aunt had cooked up. It was all food I was vaguely aware of or had seen in different variations. "Is that Kebab Hindi?" I asked.

"No, it's Fettet Basha" she replied, "It's kind of the same but there's a different flavor sauce. It's an Emirati dish."

"Okay, is that Labaniyyeh?" I asked, pointing to another dish.

She laughed and shook her head. "That's Shiekh Mihshee." 

I raised an eyebrow and took a scoop of each. They weren't so bad, but I concluded my mom was a better cook. 

**

I did not feel the hype that everyone talked about regarding Dubai. It was...nice. I would call it the Arabic version of our cities. Their gigantic Dubai Mall was colossal, filled with American and European brands. Everything was over-the-top pricey and the overall atmosphere reminded me of Somerset Mall, except more Arabs and the ever-present smell of atter (musk). You would be surprised, though. There were nearly as many Asians as Arabs, and I say that because you don't see many Emiratis there. Dubai is like a melting pot of its own in the East, much like America is in the West. Maybe it is heading in that direction. There is a large population of Filipinos and it seemed that they were the clerks of every store, every McDonalds and Wendy's and Subway. So did the Emiratis not work or something? I wondered, but never really voiced my opinion.

You may wonder, what differentiates the Emiratis from other Arabs? 

I cannot give you an exact answer, as anything might come out stereotypical, but I will attempt to explain my own observations in hope that it will put it to light. I feel that most Arab countries on the gulf have a similar dress. The men wear the thawb (white robe), sandals, and on their heads a shumagh (that red-and-white-checkered-thing) or a ghutra (white, smaller piece worn over a white hat) with an igal (black headband) on top. No, they do not all wear it but it's something that I've only seen in UAE, Saudi, and Kuwait. I was among too many Syrians to get to talk to someone and ask. Besides, I would have trouble understanding them anyway since their dialect is much thicker and more guttral than the Syrian one.

Now women...ah, yes... I envy their hijab styles because I don't know how it stays on their heads. It seems to be billowing freely in the wind and yet not a strand of hair shows. They wear the headscarf in a loose manner. The way I wrap my hijab is I wrap it twice around and pin it on the side. I believe their shawls are longer, so they might wrap it twice or three times, and then the last layer is very loose, but in any case it looks gorgeous. They wear the Abaya (black robe). You would think it's unflattering but my goodness, I've not seen Abayas more gorgeous than the ones in the Emirates. Some are even slightly more fitted around the waist too. Glittering sequins and diamonds and beads, all with a matching shawl of the same design. I wanted to buy one over there, but they were somewhere between one to two thousand dollars. I was probably looking at one of the more posh stores, surely.

For both of these cases, they are not mandatory dress. i don't know why they prefer to wear it, but it was a very to-each-their-own situation. They might not understand why I don't wear it as they do, and I may never understand why they do, but we just set it aside as a culture difference, and I'm very okay with that. 

Around Arabia in 20 Days: Reunions Part 1

Stepping out of the plane was like walking into a blow drier turned on high heat. I immediately missed the cool breezes I left behind in Michigan and had a longing to get back to them. I shed out of my sweater as I walked, my nerves everywhere as we were that much closer to meeting relatives. 

Once we claimed our bags, we headed out to the welcoming gate as I liked to call it. A sea of faces staring eagerly at every person that walked out through the doors, hoping it was their loved ones. We pushed forward until we saw an eager wave towards the back. My uncle. Moments later I was buried in hugs and tears, from person to person between cousins, aunts, uncles and grandparents, all cooing admirations while ushering us to the cars. I clung to my uncle the most. Uncle Maher. He was one my favorite people ever.

Walking outside, I had no idea how I was supposed to breathe in this air. It was hot and humid. I bet I could have made scrambled eggs on the hood of a car. 

I rode with my two uncles, both of them my mom's younger brothers. I listened to them chat for a little while, not really sure what to say. It wasn't until they addressed me that I spoke. True, I understood them perfectly, but the hard part was actually answering them. I hadn't realized how bad my Arabic had gotten, and I supposed it was because I had nowhere to practice it. We went to Syria every summer for as long as I could remember. But it had been three years since I had been around people who only spoke Arabic. Needless to say it was difficult to retain words when speaking to them. 

When people think UAE, they think of Dubai. My aunt lives in Sharjah, though, which is about 30 minutes away from Dubai. Sharjah has a higher concentrations of Arabs. The roads reminded me of Syria, and a strange nostalgia thrummed through me. Here I was, with relatives in a familiar-looking place, yet we were hundreds of miles away meeting in a country where one of my aunts happened to live. At least we were all together again. 

While driving around, I saw little to no pedestrians and the city felt hazy. I think no one could stand around in the heat longer than a few minutes. There were many cars though. So many, in fact, that I could hardly see the road in front of us. "No one's out on the streets," I remember commenting aloud. 

"You should've been here last week, Khaal," my uncle said, "It's like you brought the heat with you. No one can walk around in this." Khaal. Short for Khalo, which meant "uncle." I liked the ring to it. That use of names seems to be an Arab thing. Since I call him Khalo, he calls me Khalo. Similar to how my mom calls me mama. It's like they call you what they want you to call them. The thought amused me when thinking about it, but I wouldn't have it any other way.