Why I love my roommate, # 528

She picks daffodils [from other people's yards] and gives them to me [in an empty gin bottle] when I'm having a bad day.

Senior Profiles

Always the anthropologist, I've been observing my senior peers closely over the past several weeks. Consider this: in about 2.5 months, a host of recent grads enter the so-called "real world." The majority of us simply have no idea where we'll be in six months. At this point, most applications and interviews have been unanswered, and we wait in a precarious state of limbo.

So how do seniors cope? Here are a few of the many senior profiles I have seen emerge:

1. The "life plan" senior: This senior reacts to graduation by planning out every moment of her future life, including (though not limited to): the design of her extravagant wedding invitations, the names of her 3 children, the street location of her future private practice, and her expected 401k outlook by age 39. Tread lightly, as this senior can be expected confront a quarter-life crisis of epic proportions when the tiniest of plans falters and thus throws her entire future into jeopardy.

2. The "hasty approach to graduate school" senior: In January, this senior decides she should probably do something about post-graduate life [usually spurred by an overachieving friend landing a sweet job or teach for america placement]. Having already missed the deadlines for 95% of graduate programs, she arbitrarily picks a couple of schools and infuriates several professors by asking for letters of recommendation three days before the deadline.

3. The "best days of my life!" senior: This senior spends her entire final year in a daze of alcohol and missed assignments. Having convinced herself to "LIVE IT UP" (every monday, wednesday, thursday [but it's just happy hour], friday, and saturday), she creates the illusion of extreme happiness and nonchalant-ness towards what remains an extremely uncertain future.

4. The "see the world" senior: Upon graduation, this senior dreams of backpacking through Europe, hitching a boat to New Zealand, or taking a motorcycle tour of South America with an Argentinian lover she has yet to meet. By second semester, this senior has taken to creating fictitious plans to tell people ("backpacking...how marvelous!") and is busy buttering up her parents for funds to "find herself."

Hello from Home

A Eulogy for Fall Semester

Oh, Fall of 2009. Today I bury you, for good.

You showed me the awesome and terrible limits of the human body. The all-nighter, followed by the all-dayer, followed by two hours of semi-pointless meetings and a terrible nights sleep because the neighbors are always celebrating, loudly. You showed me the frightening depths of human intellect; how to skim an entire novel in spanish in under an hour; how to craft a thesis during a lady gaga dance break in the library bathroom; how to write endless pages; how to write more endless pages and revise the endless pages previously written and subsequently destroyed by a professor. You ripped the perfectionist right out of me, because sometimes, Fall 2009, there is just no freaking way to get everything done. Much less done well. Much less done well, while still showering on a daily basis and remembering to consume calories other than espresso-based beverages and the soup they serve at the student union. If there was a legal blood-caffeine limit for operating vehicles and theorizing from university classrooms, I would be in jail. I wager I could have triumphed over you, Fall 2009, if I had no life, no friends or other relationships, no feelings, and no existential crises about being a senior. Because I am a full human being; far more than my intellectual or even physical capabilities, you seem to have won this round.

You, fall semester, were hell, and I shall not miss you.

because being a senior means (at times) having no answers.

"Be patient toward all that is unsolved in your heart and try to love the questions themselves, like locked rooms and like books that are now written in a very foreign tongue. Do not now seek the answers, which cannot be given you because you would not be able to live them. And the point is, to live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps you will then gradually, without noticing it, live along some distant day into the answer." --Rainer Maria Rilke ‘Letters to a Young Poet’ (1934)

"It is only clear to me that her waiting was not patient, not placid or resigned, and if she didn't know tomorrow's date, it was because what she yearned for wasn't coming tomorrow or the day after or even the next week, but it forced her to wait, to allow time to pass and the wind to blow." -- Laura Restrepo

Excerpts from my desk

My desk is an orchestrated chaos. It speaks volumes about who I am.

- 39 separate library books. In piles and rows. Titles include, "Ethnopolitics in Ecuador" "Sex and Revolution: Cuba" "Global Shadows, Africa in the Neoliberal World Order" "La Chulla Vida" "The Power of Mindful Learning" "Sociology and Mass Culture" and "The Child in Latin America."
- Cards and letters. Themes include: Jonas Brothers (the card sings), Michel Foucault (from a professor), Stick figure drawings (from an Ecua-friend).
- Business cards: Skin Solutions massage therapy, Jazzy Jewels jewelry, Abe's Automotive, Denison University Director of Career Services.
- Fortune cookie fortunes: In the ocean of knowledge, only those who want to learn will see the land. Listen to yourself more often. Your talents will be recognized and suitably rewarded. When one must, one can. Wo chi shuigito (I eat fruit).
- Addresses: California, Minneapolis, South Carolina, Virginia, Ecuador.
- Pictures: Catie. Jenny. Anna. My students. The beach. Ryan. Janelle. Jess. Laura.
- Folders, papers and more papers: Fulbright docs, Post-grad, tutoring, resumes, sophomore retreat leader binder.
- Words. "generosity. courage. self-respect."

Statement of Ethics-- Senior Research

I am a first-time teacher in Muisne, a rural island off Ecuador's northern coast. I am a researcher. I am white and female and very young. I stick out in appearance; I open my mouth and stick out even more. I am confined by my gender; in the street, I walk quickly and do not acknowledge the piropeos (cat calls). I cannot be alone on the beach. I am a teacher, but I am a friend. Children buy me coconuts and shout “Profesora” as I wave by their doors. Why do they trust me?

The teachers are buzzing before class one November morning; there has been a rape. The principal details the situation in front of four hundred students during morning formation. He yells into the microphone. He demands better conduct. A meeting ensues between the principal, the female victim, and the male accused of rape. I am invited to be present. The principal interrogates the 14-year old girl, she is silent. He evokes her sexual past, implying that she is promiscuous. Moreover, she spends time with known homosexuals on the island and he concludes that she “probably has HIV.” The accused rapist goes back to class, embarrassed but cleared of all charges. The girl is silent and looks at her hands. I am silent and horrified. The principal turns to me and says with disgust, “This is Ecuador. This is Muisne.” He assumes that I (as an American?) share his sentiments and agree with his course of action. My disgust is with him, yet I am implicated on his side. All of my roles seem to collide. Who am I? Who do I protect, and can I still protect my job? There is no time. We leave the office. The girl walks back to class and will not look at me for the remainder of my time teaching in Muisne.

As the situation I describe above implies, there are many moments when anthropological research cannot be neatly categorized as either “ethical” or “unethical.” Grappling with questions of ethics, although rarely done in public academic circles, is an integral and often unexpectedly jarring part of social research. In this essay, I would like to address ethics in my senior project by focusing on three research “phases”—the origins of research, the process of research, and the consequences of research.

You can read the entirety of my statement of ethics HERE.

Senior Moments

I've been having a series of "senior moments." I mean this in both senses of the word "senior."

First, there is something quite distinct about being a 4th year student on a 4-year residential campus. Underclassmen look to me in awe and fear. Perhaps they too realize the future is charging, and my nearly-graduated presence reminds them of their own unpreparedness. Perhaps they just want to get on my good side so that I can buy them alcohol, or help them with their Spanish homework. Either way.

However, I also have "senior moments" where I legitimately feel like a senior citizen. I am old around here, and not cool. But here's how I know my maturity level is beginning to exceed college: I don't care. I mean, anyone who knows me knows I've never been particularly "raging," as it were. But this year I've given into most of my stay-in-Saturday and "Oh! I love NPR" urges. This is partially exhaustion and partially an acceptance of who I am (and am not).

On Being Constructive

I am applying for a 1-year English Teaching Assistantship in Ecuador through the Fulbright Student Program. AH! Real life! Fulbright grants are competitive, so I've been honing my essays since May. I am incredibly grateful for the help and support (often in the form of harsh criticism) I've received from professors/mentors/friends. However, can we all stop to consider the fine art of constructive criticism?

It is very late in the game, and I am finalizing my application. Comments such as "change your thesis" and "I don't understand why the commission should give YOU the grant" without providing specific places for improvement are less-than-helpful. Be specific, people. Vague and scathing is not helpful. (Cue the sappy music)... these are my dreams! I think I speak for many soon-to-be-graduates when I say that this year is terrifying. Get on board, or move out of my way!

Words

I think words are important. The following is an excerpt from Technicians of the Sacred, a book compiling indigenous poetries from around the world:


"Man is moved just like the ice floe sailing here and there in the current. His thoughts are driven by a flowing force when he feels joy, when he feels fear, when he feels sorrow. Thoughts can wash over him like a flood, making his breath come in gasps and his heart throb. Something like an abatement in the weather will keep him thawed up. And then it will happen that we, who always think we are small, will feel still smaller. And we will fear to use words. But it will happen that the words we need will come of themselves. When the words we want to use shoot up of themselves-- we get a new song." -- Statement by Orpingalik of the Netsilik Eskimo Tribe

Perhaps this seems to summarize many experiences your life, as it does mine. I cannot help but think of Ecuador. There was absolutely a fear, sorrow, and smallness associated with the experience. But whether it was researching/loving/living/teaching/writing, the words I needed came "of themselves." And here I am, still singing my "new song."

My Summer in World of Warcraft

Over the summer, I received a grant from Denison to conduct anthropology research on World of Warcraft-- the popular multi-player online game. Yes, every teenage boy's dream job! Because WoW is a pop culture phenomenon, people seem intrigued.

I have made the full manuscript available HERE.
Note that isn't meant to sound harsh, but inevitably will: As I work towards possibly publishing the manuscript, I request it only be used or referenced with my consent.

The paper is about gender in World of Warcraft, and draws on my own experience and interviews with fellow players. It is quite lengthy and heavy on theory-- If you're short on time but still intrigued, I suggest skipping to either Chapter III (game design), Chapter IV (virtual gender), or Chapter V (actual gender and marginalization).

I am proud of my work and much indebted to my research advisor, Susan Diduk, for overseeing the project. Neither of us had any experience studying technology, gaming, or anything even vaguely related before the summer-- it was definately a shot in the dark!!

Birthday

Tomorrow is my 21st birthday! I am thrilled to have made it to the seemingly arbitrary age where I am allowed to purchase and consume alcohol. No more X's on my hands at concerts that require brutal exfoliation to remove. And perhaps more importantly, I am now eligible for all the radio contests that require you to be 21 to win. Turning 21 almost feels ironic. I've always been old; now I'm just catching up.

Like every year, this birthday I will spend an inordinate amount of time preparing my wish before blowing out the candles on my cake. I suspect many people wish for similar things: a hand to hold, satisfaction, strength in the upcoming year. In other words... important things. No one wishes for their neighbor to stop having loud parties, or for Oprah to unexpectedly decide to do 10 more seasons (although both of those would be amazing).

I can't tell you what my exact wish will be or it won't come true. But... it'll be important. And big. I can't waste any opportunities this year!

Blog Take 2 (american style)

I'm resurrecting the blog.

I know what you're thinking. Why? Your life is nowhere near interesting enough to blog anymore. You held my attention in Ecuador, with the bull fighting, sex-ed teaching, dangerous public transportation, mountain climbing adventures. I concede that my life is markedly more boring now. I live in Ohio, I spend many evenings indoors writing papers. I get excited to go to my favorite coffee shop or when my schedule allows reading for pleasure.

I am blogging again for several reasons. The first is jealous inspiration. Many of my friends have interesting, funny, or thought-provoking blogs, and I appreciate being kept up to date on their lives. The second is my senior year of college. I'm making some big plans (and small plans) and would like to keep a record of how everything materializes. The third is contact. My friends and family are increasingly dispersed across this great world, and nothing substitutes personal communication (even if it is en masse).

So however you know me (or don't), I hope you partake in the excitement and terror of my senior year of college. These are, perhaps, my final carefree days of university life, in this utopia of Denison, planning and seeking and eventually finding what comes next.

Video Clips

This is the Rio Blanco in Banos, Ecuador-- so beautiful! The bridge that goes over Rio Blanco is the bridge we bungie jumped off of.



I took this video at a rural school we visited. The kids have a couple hours a week of "culture class", where they learn about their traditions as indigenous tribes. In this video, they are learning a traditional dance that is performed June 21-- the sun festival (the longest day of the year). The little boy distributing scarves represents the sun god.



This was during the Fiestas de Quito Independence parade. These women are performing a traditional dance from one of the Indigenous groups. It was a HUGE parade!



This is a goodbye message from 2 of my students. They are basically saying, we were in your sex ed class, we'll miss you, we love you, you always have our friendship!

Home!

I've been back in the USA for several days now. All my flights were calm, on-time, and carrying my luggage-- Milagro! (Miracle!) I am working on putting all my pictures online. I have only brushed the surface with the pictures I posted here, there are many more crazy adventures to see if you are interested or bored at work. I will let you know as soon as those are available.

So, the USA. 1.) Is not like Ecuador. 2.) Has changed a LOT since I left! I have not been updated on basic news items since August. I am watching old episodes of Daily Show with Jon Stewart to get a quick review on all I have missed.

They warned us about "reverse culture shock", or the readjustment phase upon returning to the US. I would say my biggest hurdle is returning to the monotony of daily life and re-involving myself in the things that I left. It is weird to go back to all the same people when you feel you've changed significantly. I also have more of an issue with the over-consumption that characterizes middle class America. Christmastime doesn't help. Today I went shopping and almost had a heart attack upon comparing Ecuadorian and American prices. Also I am pretty sure the lady in front of me spent like 95 dollars on a fake flower arrangement. Seems unnecessary.

Thanks for reading the blog over the past several months. It has been really fun to keep it updated and stay in contact with you all. I wonder how one becomes "a blogger"... one of those people that gets invited to events just so they can blog about it. I would like to just carry my laptop around and continually post about useless things.

My Research Paper

I am just finishing up a 25 page research thesis on the social and educational implications of adolescent sexuality in Muisne. I have had some people ask for a copy, which is grand. Except... it's all in Spanish. So if you speak Spanish or would like a copy regardless, let me know. I presented it orally today, and turn in the written work tomorrow.

And then I am done! I go back to the states in less than 48 hours. Scary. I'll post as soon as I get back.

A Bull Fight and Another Embarrassing Situation

I am only adding this picture to lighten the mood before showing bull fight pictures. PETA members and the faint of heart should not scroll down.



Post-fight.

This bull is about to be dealt his final blow.

So, the bull fight. Ryan and I went on Saturday (the last day of Quito’s independence celebration), which was a beautiful sunny day. When the sun comes out in the mountains on the Equator, it is also quite hot and you are likely to get dehydrated and sunburned, which still somehow surprises me. The fight is quite the classy occasion given what takes place. Everyone comes in cowboy hats and boots. I knew what was coming… Quito's bullfight is a pretty renowned occasion, and yes, they kill the bulls. There are 6 rounds-- 6 matadors for 6 different bulls. Whichever matador kills the bull in the most glorious fashion (basically gets the closest to being speared by bull horns) wins.

Round 1. Man, it was really hot. The opening procession was beautiful, all the matadors in their costumes. There are other matadors on armored horses that come out and spear the bull as well. It is really quite gruesome, but also beautiful in a medieval way.

Round 2. Started to not feel so great. Really, not great at all. Told Ryan. Started hearing only buzzing, started seeing only grey blobs. There was no escape, there were 1000 screaming bull fans and I was in the seat (of course) farthest from a door. I passed out, apparently unresponsive for at least 4 minutes. When I woke up I had 6 Ecuadorian firefighters and Red Cross workers around me. I started talking to them in Spanish! That is fluency! Everyone was staring… and this was an ARENA mind you. When I finally got up with the medics helping me to the shade, people cheered. I had strangers coming up to me the rest of the day, laughing because the foreigners always pass out.

I think it was a combination of dehydration, altitude sickness (I had just gotten back from the coast) and bull blood. I would just like to publicly thank Ryan for putting up with me. You can't take me anywhere. After intermission I went back and watched the last 2 bulls, actually kind of enjoying it. I felt sick the rest of the day but am much better now.

Sorry for the graphic pictures, it's hard to envision the situation without them!

More Muisne Pictures

Cows grazing on the beach.
My coworker Vicenta, me, and my wonderful Muisne host mom Anita. We are fishing!
Some of my favorite students. All teachers have them!
Drinking coconut water (una pipa), which is delicious, parasite free, and apparently quite good for you. In a hammock! I will miss island life.
Message to my friends and family!
Puppies! Janelle's host family's dog, Lulu, gave birth to 13 puppies. I almost stole them.
At a beach bonfire with some friends from church! Probably exactly the same thing I would be doing if I was at home! Some things don't change across cultures.
Some of my students invited me to hang out at the beach with them the day before I left Muisne. They are so amazing! This was definitely the most satisfying part of being a teacher.

Carl

I just read my e-mail and found out that Carl Warner, a longtime swim coach of mine, died on Friday.

So here I am, on an island in Ecuador. I cant even express how much of an influence Carl had on me in high school. He was there for so many early mornings, so many impossible hours of swimming and swimming. He always made me laugh when I thought I would just drown. He was there when Catie died-- before, during and after. I am in his facebook fanclub. He was there during my proudest moments. Even when he wasn't my coach anymore I would sneak over the other teams deck space to talk to him. He was always sick, we joked that one day he would just die during morning practice. I saw my swim coaches as often as my parents in high school. We always laughed together. I will really miss him.