KAUST is a beautiful idea. In the king’s wisdom, he saw that oil would not last forever and for reasons pure and pragmatic, he commissioned an institution that would provide clever people with the tools they needed to grow science. And for this, I am very grateful to the king. Thank you.

That said, there have been issues. Birthing pains. And there were bound to be some. Anyone who writes code knows that nothing compiles the first time around, and even when it does, it rarely works exactly as planned. Early adopters know that a product is a brilliant idea in principle but there may still be design flaws in the implementation.

Last night saw the inauguration of the school. The king came to the school (along with 3,500 of his closest friends – leaders from various countries, nobel laureates, distinguished guests) and there was a very long and involved ceremony. Given the guest list, I understand that there are security concerns and not everyone can attend, but the initial plan for the ceremony did not include students. Or much of the faculty. Upon learning of this, a petition went around, was signed, and we are told eventually reached the king himself and he extended an invitation to one student per country. These students were then included on stage during a reading of poetry to the king.

I find it very symbolic that these students were then not guests, but performers. Perhaps it’s ego-centric or self-involved to think that it’s the students and faculty who make the school the school, but they’ve been telling us this from the beginning. Why then, did we watch on TV an event that was happening on campus? And as far as the security concerns go, we all submitted to background checks, and “police clearances” and the extensive medical tests. Oh the medical tests! I literally gave more blood samples and stool samples for getting my visa than I have in the rest of my life. We’re academics – not zealots or crazy and dangerous people.

I imagine that it’s different in a monarchy. I realized in watching the festivities, that the people presenting and speaking at the event were proffering a gift, or a thanks. A promise to the king that they hoped and prayed he would find pleasant as a man with absolute power in the land. I tried to imagine an analog in the United States and I couldn’t think of one. There are ceremonies like this stateside, but they are displays of gratitude without the fear or reverence.

KAUST has to walk a fine line – the Saudi general population sometimes feels as though this is too free or too liberal a place while many of the people who constitute the school feel it’s too restrictive. That’s in part because we were promised that there would be no segregation when we got here, and there is. We were promised that there would be no dress code, and though it’s not always strictly enforced, there is one. We were promised we would have unfettered access to the internet (we were incredulous, but that’s what they said up until we got here), but many legitimate things are censored. I understand that there is a tight-rope walk in play here, but at the same time, it’s hard to ask people to stay and work in the name of the king when there is greener grass elsewhere.

I stay and will stay because I believe in the dream. I laud King Abdullah for his insight and inspiration. It’s with certain implementation issues that I take exception.

I have been asking for two weeks whether or not my permanent residence is ready. I look forward to making this campus my home, but while we’re living out of suitcases for the last six weeks, it’s impossible to be settled. And despite asking and asking the people they’ve told us to ask, no one can tell me if my home is ready for me. The people who will be my next-door neighbors once I move in… they have been living there since the beginning. Sure there may be a problem with my apartment only, but why can no one tell me?

Things are getting better (we’re getting put in touch more directly with the people in charge of housing, IT, and other issues), but there’s still a ways to go. Perhaps with this inauguration over, things will clear up more, but I feel it’s been very trying and a lot to ask of students. And more than students, it has been a lot to ask of the families of students and faculty that have joined them here. Some professors haven’t been able to live in a house with their wives and children under the same roof because their homes aren’t ready.

The coverage of the school that we see is all roses and sunshine. And by and large, I agree – it’s very impressive and I very much look forward to working here. But I take that coverage as a slight. I find the KAUST Inauguration Twitter feed particularly revealing.

On the one hand, it’s hard to look a gift horse in the mouth, but I would a smaller and less problematic gift horse. They’ve given us t-shirts and messenger bags and thumb drives, but I want a web page with the bus schedule on it. They’ve given us apartments with 10 chairs and granite countertops, but I want a reliable internet connection. I don’t need or want the flash – I want the tools I need to do the work and research for which I came to this institution. Access to a printer that works has gone a long way. More paper for it, however, would be much appreciated. All these great whiteboards everywhere in the office area where I do my work are awesome! There are the whiteboards where interesting and important discussions will will take place. Markers would help. I don’t need a doorman at the entrance to every building. I need someone to fix my washing machine.

It’s not as though there aren’t resources enough – it’s as though the pieces are there but they’re not clicking. We have the money to actually have books in the library, but somewhere along the lines, the people in charge of ordering books neglected to do so, and so the staff is driving to Jeddah on a daily basis, buying books at what is essentially Borders, and driving them back here. I’m sure there’s a repository of paper and markers somewhere on campus, for the life of any of us, no one can tell us where that is. There is a symposium today that’s going to be very inspiring and filled with impressive people that I’ve been looking forward to for two weeks. We had to RSVP a week and a half in advance, but I haven’t been told what time it starts or where. And yet no fewer than 6 people have come by my desk to check whether or not my lamp works. My lamp works. My phone and internet connection don’t.

In order to get onto the compound, we have to present student IDs. Presumably, then, people walking into academic buildings carrying a backpack are students and are allowed to be there and are trusted. But I have to sign in at a security desk if I go in the main entrance to my building, and occasionally have my bag searched.

This has grown longer than I intended, but the thing I hope to have impressed upon you is this: I’m grateful to the king. Very grateful, and I wish I knew how best to convey my gratitude. That said, I wish we could get to work, manage ourselves as competent and trusted colleagues. We very much want to build this community and start making our homes here. To the administration: please allow us to do so.

 

I just submitted my application for a the Critical Language Scholarship, which would put me in an Arab country (Tangiers, Morocco; Cairo, Egypt; Amman, Jordan; or Beirut, Lebanon) for 7 – 10 weeks for an intensive program in Arabic. I hope to travel around the Middle East for a couple weeks before that (we’ll see how the visa situation turns out), but I thought I’d share the essays I wrote for my application now that the process is essentially over.

(In addition to this program, I will be applying to two other similar programs, although one of those would take place in California, and not a foreign country.)

1) Please explain how you become interested in studying Arabic and what preparation you have done to date to learn about the region.

Suffice it to say, Arabic is a language not traditionally studied in the West. Given its relative rarity, it has always held a very intense exotic appeal to me. It has the most gorgeous script of any language I’ve encountered, and I find spoken Arabic striking. The Middle East is thus a land of mystery intrigue, and Arabic provides a gateway.

I have a habit of asking every person with an accent that I meet where he comes from. In this way, I’ve met many interesting people here in the States: Persians, Israelis, South Koreans, Saudis, Moroccans, Jordanians, and many others. Granted, these people are all of a certain type—the kind of person willing to pack up and move to another country. With each person, especially those from the Middle East, I ask as many questions as possible about relations between their country and others, cultural perspectives, lifestyle and so on.

While in Washington D.C, I made friends with some Moroccan men, and we talked at length in French about life in the United States compared to in Morocco. On the same trip, I spoke to a Saudi man named Jafer about the culture, and especially the lessening of Sunni-Shia tensions. My friend, Shireen, is half Iranian and I’ve spoken to her and her father at great length about Iran’s history and the relationship of the citizens with the government before and after the revolution and war.

I devour any article I can find about the Middle East, from the leaders of countries to the wars and international relations. From al-Dahabi to Ahmadinejad’s personal web log. When I can, I like to watch Al-Jazeera English, and on my nightstand sits a copy of Edward Said’s “The Politics of Dispossession.”

2) Please explain what you hope to obtain from participation in this intensive language program and how it will contribute to your immediate and long-range goals. Within your response, please include answers to the following questions:

a. How does the program fit into your academic career?
b. What are your career goals and how does study and mastery of this language contribute toward meeting those goals?

When learning a language in the classroom, despite earnest attempts by teachers to incorporate the associated culture, I find that one gets a more or less sterile lesson of the language. In high school, I took four years of French, but it wasn’t until I spent a good deal of time there that I felt like I knew the language. I didn’t form sentences in English and translate them anymore , but learned to think, dream, and speak directly in French. It’s the difference between knowledge by description and knowledge by acquaintance. What I hope to gain from participating in this program is to not just read and write better Arabic, but also to live it.

In terms of my academic career, I will be matriculating to the King Abdullah University of Science and Technology in Thuwal, Saudi Arabia, a mere 80 kilometers from the cultural hub that is Jeddah. I think part of the academic lifestyle is living the collegiate culture in the surrounding areas. And of course this means diving into Arabic.

With respect to career/personal goals, I think it’s very important to be a world citizen—acquainted with many languages, cultures and traditions. I think it’s virtuous in its own right, but also it promotes international understanding. As a career, I’d like to find work in diplomacy or intelligence—anything to help keep the peace and advance world relations. I see spending time overseas as a tremendous boon to this career decision.

3) Please explain how you expect to build upon the experience of participating in this intensive language program. Within your response, please include answers to the following questions:

a. What language courses do you plan to take in the future?
b. What resources are available to you to further your study of the language? This may include resources through your college or university, community organizations, personal or professional contacts, or other institutions.
c. If language courses are not offered at your institution, what specific steps will you take to continue your language study?

I don’t think of the Arab world as just a place to do my graduate studies, but rather a place I’d like to frequent during my lifetime. In that sense, I don’t want to participate in this program as an isolated event.

KAUST (the graduate school I’m attending in Thuwal, KSA) will be offering a certain number of intensive short-form classes in Arabic of which I plan to take full advantage. Beyond the traditional classroom approach, I’d certainly be interested in pursuing subsequent CLS programs in future summers.

In addition to organized Arabic education, there will be a significant Arabic-speaking community at KAUST. Within this community I hope to make many friends and to practice Arabic with them while participating in their culture and traditions.

Beyond even this student body, there are 27 million Arabic-speakers in the country to speak with. And, being in such proximity to Jeddah means a chance to walk the streets and experience the home life of Arab culture. Jeddah is merely the beginning. With so many interesting countries nearby—Jordan, Egypt, Qatar, Bahrain, Yemen, Oman, and the United Arab Emirates to name a few—I expect to feel a very powerful wanderlust during my time there. I am a strong believer that a large part of really knowing a language is getting into the thick of it. Initiating conversations, getting in just a little over your head in terms of linguistic ability, using the wrong verbs, and discovering beyond the denotation of words to their cultural connotations. My time at KAUST (which may last up to five years) will be filled with such opportunity.

4) The intensive language program will offer an exciting opportunity for students to be immersed in a foreign culture. The program will also offer many challenges. Please explain what experiences and unique personal qualities you would bring to program. Within your response, please include the following information:

a. Please describe any living/working experiences you have had, either overseas or in the US (such as in the classroom, in dormitories or residences, work or volunteer activities, etc.) where you have been required to interact with people from backgrounds different than your own.
b. Please describe how you have dealt with challenging living situations or different cultural situations, and how you plan to deal with experiences that may be quite different from those you may have encountered previously in the US.
c. Please describe the unique personal qualities you would bring to the group.

I have a fair amount of international experience – my father is French and the majority of my extended family lives overseas. Cumulatively, I have probably spent 4-6 months living there amidst French culture—the museums, the cheese, and the late nights arguing about politics. Many of my close friends are also first generation Americans with parents coming from Mexico, Vietnam, South Africa, Iran, and Jordan. Stepping into their households is like getting a glimpse of their home country.

I spent a year in Japan studying abroad, during which I travelled and talked with many Japanese people. From gathering with my research lab for dinner to going to Sapporo’s international snow festival. Beyond the Japanese experience, only a small minority of the students studying abroad there were American. Indonesian to Kazakhstani, we all got along and learned each other’s ways. As Americans we hosted a Thanksgiving dinner. Some Indian students invited us to celebrate Diwali, and Muslim students, Eid ul-Fitr.

Challenges do arise, but I believe that compromise is the essence of diplomacy. For example, while Tisha B’Av, one refrains from going to parties. This coincided with a close friend’s birthday party, and so in order to remain friendly, I made a brief appearance. Other times it’s just a matter of learning new norms. Like properly setting down chopsticks in Japan, or entering a room with your right foot in Muslim communities. I do my best when I encounter these differences to incorporate them as a show of respect, no matter how odd or challenging I might find them.

In terms of unique characteristics I bring, I have already a colorful cultural background, and I only want to expand upon it. I deeply desire to understand foreign traditions, and participate actively in other cultures.

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KAUST

This summer I submitted my application for the Discovery Scholarship at King Abdullah University of Science and Technology in Saudi Arabia. It would pay for my last year of school here, cost of living, travel, tuition there, and a stipend to buy a new laptop. Well, when you have the fifth largest endowment in the world, I guess you can afford to do that sort of thing.

At any rate, I nit-picked an essay (they wanted an essay of 50 lines or less detailing academic achievement, international experience, statement of purpose, etc., so it’s bound to be a paced a certain way), and got letters of recommendation from three of my professors. Specifically, Graeme Fairweather, the department head, Mike Colagrosso, a recently tenured professor who just left us for the private sector (you’ll be missed, Mike), and Yong Bakos, a first year professor. All in all, I felt pretty good about my application.

Well, earlier this week I got an email saying that I had been selected as a finalist. Of the 2300 who applied, they whittled it down to 672 students (of whom they’re saying they’ll accept 500); 99 of these are from the US or Canada. Making it to the finals means that they’re going to fly me out to Washington D.C. for an interview this weekend, about which I’m very excited. I’ve never been back east, and it will give me a chance to see my cousin Elizabeth and her husband Wess, who live in Arlington, VA. The KAUST people even let me delay my departure so I could spend Labor Day weekend with them. Hooray!

At a recent dinner, my mother mentioned that she was praying I didn’t get accepted. Something about the perceived danger of living in the Middle East for two years. At any rate, things are looking up, and at the very least, I’ll get a trip to D.C. out of it.

It really looks like a beautiful campus and a unique opportunity. I would be in their first graduating class, getting my Master’s when I finish. I have a knack for being in the early graduating classes for schools. I was in the second class out of my middle school, and I was in the second class to graduate from the IB program at Niwot.

For more on KAUST, visit their website.

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The Mama’s Health Scholarship asked its applicants to consider HPV: “Should states enact laws that would require girls to be vaccinated against Human Papillomavirus (HPV)?” If nothing else, an interesting topic and motivated me to do some research on the subject. I feel… what’s this feeling? Oh. More informed. Mama’s Health Scholarship Essay

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This weekend I submitted three scholarship applications totaling about $12,000; the third of these was the Alvin J. Cox Memorial Scholarship. Applicants were allowed to pick their own topic, and no word limits. This essay is a little more free-form, but it roughly about my enjoyment of science and technology. Alvin J. Cox Memorial Scholarship Essay.

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I recently re-read Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five in preparation for a scholarship essay. I finished it in two days, and though some read like that or more all the time, I can’t remember the last time I plowed through a book like that. I felt accomplishment.

Elder and Leemaur Publishers put on a scholarship every year, and this is my most recent submission. The question I selected to answer was “What do you believe is the greatest literary work of all time, and why?” Using all of the only 500 words allowed for an essay, I answered this awful question. Other equally meaningless questions you could answer were “Who do you believe is the greatest inventor of all time, and why?” and “What single event in the period of the 20th century (1900 – 2000) do you believe will have the greatest influence over the 21st century?” Questions like these make me so frustrated, and then to try to condense a review of what’s presumably one of the best books written into 500 words. Disgusting, but I would like them to give me money. This is my selling out:

“Billy Pilgrim has come unstuck in time.”

Kurt Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-Five is one of the most incredible books from the 20th century. It’s well-written and uproariously funny; but most importantly, it’s timeless.

This book is about coming to terms with atrocity. Our ability to find humor and irony during unfortunate times is our saving grace. It’s not meant to trivialize tragedy, but simply to say that if we are to survive, we must learn to laugh. We are “stuck in the amber of the moment,” Vonnegut says, reminding us that all horrible moments are now and always, but more comfortingly, so are beautiful ones.

That idea brings an existential peace with the world to Slaughterhouse-Five. The Tralfamadorians (an alien race who temporarily put Billy Pilgrim on display in a zoo on their planet) see time and space “just that way we can look at a stretch of the Rocky Mountains;” all moments are. Friends who have passed away are simply in an unfortunate state at that time, but in other moments, they’re in perfect health.

Books from Tralfamadore are a series of moments, carefully chosen by the author to be considered simultaneously to describe something beautiful. Slaughterhouse-Five is one such book. It’s filled with two-paragraph passages describing disjointed moments: a young boy is thrown into a pool at the YMCA; English POWs put on a production of Cinderella for American prisoner; a man is executed for stealing a teapot.

The central tragedy of the book is the firebombing of Dresden. Kurt Vonnegut was one of seven Americans to survive it, and he encourages us to remember that it was the greatest massacre in world history – 135,000 people were killed.

Billy Pilgrim’s comforting dissociation from the world lets us see the tremendous irony that abounds in the war. As he and other American POWs are sent to a prison camp, a hobo’s dying words are “You think this is bad? This ain’t bad.” While in Dresden, a hundred American prisoners are watched by eight guards, including a man with a fake leg and a grandfather and his grandson – one too young to guard and the other far too old. Many of Vonnegut’s war criticisms are presented through these absurd situations.

The book is lined with motifs that help with continuity: virtually every mention of death is followed by the phrase “So it goes,” a sort of “c’est la vie” popular with the Tralfamadorians. Mrs. Pilgrim dies from carbon monoxide poisoning on the way to see her husband. So it goes. These motifs conjure passages from elsewhere in the book, sucking the reader into a Tralfamadorian perspective where all moments are happening all at once.

Vonnegut urges us to dwell on the positive and remember that all moments are: “Be patient. Your future will soon come to you and lie down at your feet like a dog who knows and loves you no matter what.” Billy’s self-written epitaph presents it concisely: “Everything was beautiful and nothing hurt.”

Zaadz

Here are another couple of little blurbs I wrote for another scholarship.

1) What would you do if you weren’t afraid?

If I weren’t afraid, I would actually do very little worthwhile. For me, fear is an enormous motivating factor – from driving me to be more competitive to encouraging me to accomplish more. Somewhat ironically, if often pushes me to do things of which I am tremendously afraid – the fear of not doing it outweighing the fear of the deed itself.

Many things worth doing are pretty frightening – from skydiving to going down that ski run that makes you wet yourself; and still other things are worth doing exclusively for the fear they engender. It helps me learn things about myself: how do I act under the pressure? Do I have the stones to take the jump? What’s worthwhile enough for me to do that for?

Being afraid of losing my edge or not besting competitors and colleagues or not self-actualizing lights a little fire under me to accomplish. A fear of not getting to do what I want to eggs me on. It all generates a competitive attitude that benefits me in a big big way. Even evolutionarily, fear can help us to perform.

Besides, very few things beat the rush of being scared out of your gourd as you speed almost uncontrollably down the mountain.

2) How are you going to change the world?

My biggest strength as an empiricist and a person and what I hope to bring to those around me is a clear understanding and an appreciation for science. It’s essentially a formal definition of how we as humans come to understand the world we live in, and everyone should at least foster a minimalist awareness of the basic principles that drive it.

In raising kids, I want them to be very aware of how useful science is in terms of technological advances but also in terms of its efficacy as a methodology in it and of itself. “Indoctrination” is such an ugly word, but I really do want my children to understand the tremendous importance. And it’s not just limited to my children – friends, family, co-workers, and I’m totally bringing it to the blogosphere.

I hope that eventually we will live in a world that can take a more rational approach to the problems that face us individually, as families and even as countries. That’s not by any means saying that I want to do away with things like religion or art, and certainly not wanting to take a completely utilitarian approach to life. I just think the world would be a much better place if people would appreciate the mechanisms that underly the madness and how we ultimately know and understand them. Short of curing cancer and AIDS and feeding the hungry, I think it’s one of the most important things in the world today.

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