Rejection x 6, on behalf of 20-somethings

This is not a rejection letter. It is six rejection letters, edited into one very clear message: I am not going to enter a PhD program in Anthropology this year. Taken individually, the letters are not terribly difficult to rationalize-- "It probably wasn't the best fit," "I kind of bombed that interview," or even-- "Oh well, it's cold there." Taken as a whole, this NO means a strange mixture of opportunity and quarter-life crisis. 

Ambato, Ecuador

 Exactly one year ago today (April 3), I received notice that I won a 10-month Fulbright grant to Ecuador. It was a truly happy day, and the months that followed were hopeful and sure. Fulbright bought me a round-trip ticket-- Depart Columbia, SC on October 4, 2010/ Arrive Columbia, SC on August 4, 2011. The plan was to enter a graduate program upon returning to the States. I proceeded, under the impression that the plan would work as long as I committed to making the plan work. I'm writing to announce that the plan didn't work, despite my best efforts.

Muisne, Ecuador

I'm not very familiar with rejection. Likewise, those of you reading my blog are probably not familiar with me being rejected. In my 22 years, I've had almost every door I knocked on opened. While I won't diminish the accomplishments I made after walking through those doors, it often goes overlooked that my educational/socioeconomic/athletic/etc background provided keys and a cushy red carpets that few other people enjoy. So I was surprised to receive 6 rejection letters. I believed I would be admitted to at least one program, or else I would not have expended the financial/intellectual/emotional resources applying. I was not, however, angry or indignant, because I applied out of hope-- not entitlement. Top PhD programs in Anthro are competitive to the point where past red-carpets (ie Fulbright, fancy greek letters, shiny graduation cords) don't really guarantee anything. 

Oregon Inlet, North Carolina

I'd like to explain the experience of being an early-20-something to everyone who is not an early-20-something today. We are capable and optimistic. We are young professionals, grinding away for small salaries and often one benefit: the hope of eventually meeting the minimum requirements for a job that won't suck quite as much. We turn our resumes into academic cv's and then back into resumes. We fight tirelessly to prove our independence, to blaze our own path, and sometimes wake up thinking "I'm on my own!" and sometimes wake up wondering "why am I alone?" We date, casually, and know what casually dating means. We re-evaluate our career paths on a weekly basis, make bucket lists, go dancing until 4 am, stalk Facebook to compare ourselves to other 20-somethings, and get together with each other so we can laugh until we can't breathe. We talk about how great it is to be 20-something and free. But in the space between our last sip of our beer and next exclamation of "I love this song!", we silently acknowledge that it sometimes sucks, too.

I'm still 22 and living an absolute dream in South America, and I am confident I will find something to do that both pays bills and offers satisfaction. But I'm still not ready to talk about August 5, 2011. I have many more sleepless nights and phone calls and peaceful sunrises before I can announce my "now what" post-Fulbright life. Today I understand a little better why Rainer Maria Rilke said, "The purpose of life is to be defeated by greater and greater things," and what Samuel Beckett meant by "Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better."

First Impressions (but not mine)

<-- This is Jenny, a friend, teammate, and roommate from college. In early March, Jenny became the first person from the US to visit me in Ecuador-- ever. She flew into Ecuador during the thick of Carnival (Mardigras) and the city of Ambato's annual "fiestas." Because Jenny holds such a distinguished honor, and I am a creaky old Ecuador veteran who is no longer able to write "first impression" blog posts, here's what she had to say about her 7 days:

For my Spring Break, I was lucky enough to go to Ecuador and visit my long lost friend, Kim. I have never been to Ecuador or South America, so everything I saw was new to me. This guest post is about my first impressions about the things I saw, the lessons I learned, and the people I met in my far too short trip to Ecuador. Before I continue, I should mention that I am not a Spanish speaker, so not only was a national and cultural outsider, but I was also a linguistic outsider-- which made for some interesting (and some frustrating) situations.

Concert during Fiestas de Ambato 2011

I’ll start with my impressions of Ecuadorian people, since I think that people in general are interesting, and are most worthy of mention. Every Ecuadorian I met was friendly and open in a way that does not exist (or at least is very rare) in this culture (I’m an American for the sake of specificity). There appears to be no such thing as a stranger or an outsider, as even casual acquaintances get greeted with a hug. Further, there was no such thing as being self-conscious. For instance, I was asked to give a toast at a going away party for a person I hardly knew. I found it strange-- everyone else probably found my hesitation strange. It turns out "awkward” is a very cultural thing, something I learned as Kim and I tried to explain what "awkward" even meant to one of her friends. It simply does not exist.

Overall, I found the people to be wonderful-- the openness and friendliness were new, but in my opinion, preferable to the rigidity with which people interact in here in the States. Further, I rarely felt isolated despite my communication barriers, which was remarkable (although having an attentive translator-- Kim-- helped too).

Getting sprayed with foam/water on Carnival.

All of the things that I already mentioned made socializing (or fiestas as the case may be) generally more fun. When I was there, Ecuador was celebrating Carnival (Mardigras), so there were no shortage of fiestas. Fiestas are more fun because no one seems self-conscious and there is no such thing as awkward which means YOU WILL DANCE! You will dance however you happen to dance, just because there is music. You will do so all night long-- and no will one judge you, and it is awesome. However, fiesta-ing is the only place where the Ecuadorian insistence on socialization becomes inconvenient-- this is also where speaking Spanish would have helped. You do not go home after the fiesta. In my experience, you instead drive around for at least an hour in a car filled to twice its normal capacity and sometimes you get hamburgers cooked with a hair dryer. This late-night hamburger run was the situation in which I most wanted to speak Spanish so I could say I DO NOT WANT A HAIR DRIED HAMBURGER IT'S 4 AM I WANT TO SLEEP.  This seems trivial, but at the time it was not. I will never again take for granted the privilege of communication.

Ambato's streets filled during Fiestas.

Overall, I found Ecuador to be more familiar then I expected: my trip involved shopping malls, supermaxis, lots of pizza, ice cream, and teenagers that want to go out with their friends on weekends. I tried to keep this post short so I focused on the thing that was most unusual to me-- the way people interacted with each other and the experience of being a linguistic outsider. It was a great experience, and my first impressions of Ecuador were positive and intriguing. I felt welcome and more comfortable than expected- you (person reading this) should really consider a trip.