On my 22nd Birthday

To My Twenties
By Kenneth Koch

How lucky that I ran into you
When everything was possible
For my legs and arms, and with hope in my heart
And so happy to see any woman—
O woman! O my twentieth year!
Basking in you, you
Oasis from both growing and decay
Fantastic unheard of nine- or ten-year oasis
A palm tree, hey! And then another
And another—and water!
I’m still very impressed by you. Whither,
Midst falling decades, have you gone? Oh in what lucky fellow,
Unsure of himself, upset, and unemployable
For the moment in any case, do you live now?
From my window I drop a nickel
By mistake. With
You I race down to get it
But I find there on
The street instead, a good friend,
X— N—, who says to me
Kenneth do you have a minute?
And I say yes! I am in my twenties!
I have plenty of time! In you I marry,
In you I first go to France; I make my best friends
In you, and a few enemies. I
Write a lot and am living all the time
And thinking about living. I loved to frequent you
After my teens and before my thirties.
You three together in a bar
I always preferred you because you were midmost
Most lustrous apparently strongest
Although now that I look back on you
What part have you played?
You never, ever, were stingy.
What you gave me you gave whole
But as for telling
Me how best to use it
You weren’t a genius at that.
Twenties, my soul
Is yours for the asking
You know that, if you ever come back.

Because Poets Deserve Shameless Promotion from Friends

Read "My Lousiana Love" by Anne Barngrover in Poets for Living Waters-- "a poetry action in response to the BP oil disaster in the Gulf of Mexico."

My Summer

This should cover the frequently asked "what are you up to?" questions I have fielded since graduation.

Spanglish (3)

Continuing with our ongoing series about the Gringo-Ecuadorian dialect of Spanglish:

Tomar:
For our purposes, it almost exclusively means “to drink.” So you tomar [boiled] water, tomar una coca-cola, or tomar un Pilsener.

Pilsener:
THE Ecuadorian beer. If you walk into any drinking establishment and just say "cerveza"-- this bland, bud-light-esque ale is probably what you'll get. Ordering an imported (read: more expensive) beer is a classically snobbish mistake gringos make in Ecuador. Pilsener is a brand of national pride (see this catalog of national beers from around the world).

Chuchaqui:
Hungover. Technically a Quichua word, "chuchaqui" has been incorporated into Ecuadorian Spanish, and is probably my favorite word ever. Once gringos learn it, they rarely say in English again. Example: "You'll have to excuse me, I'm still super chuchaqui from last night."

Spanglish (2)

Ecua-: [this one is important to my dialect of Spanglish. it merits its own post.]
1.) Prefix. Goes in front of a noun that, while it may exist in the USA, is wholly different in an Ecuadorian context. Example: “I went to the market with my Ecuasister. Later, we made an Ecuapizza with campo cheese.” --> Note that it would be inappropriate to say “sister” because she’s not your sister by blood, but your host or Ecuasister. Likewise, it would be inappropriate to say “pizza” because, in your mind, pizza made with campo cheese makes it different enough to be Ecuapizza.

2.) "Ecua" can also be a stand-alone word. For instance, you might say: "Those pants are SO Ecua" when a gringa friend buys a pair of pants that she could/would only purchase in Ecuador. Or I might say "It's August and I still don't know anything about my Fulbright year. Typical Ecua."

Spanglish (Intro + 1)

There are many dialects of Spanglish. My specialty (Gringo-Ecuadorian) is born when two or more native English speakers meet in Ecuador. Spanish gets thrown around when it's convenient, logical, funny, or when they forget how to speak English. What results is a hybrid language that uniquely represents the experience of being a gringo in Ecuador. Here's a partial attempt to catalog this linguistic phenomenon, dedicated to the 20 or so individuals who practice with me on a regular basis.

The Campo:
1.) The country, or something rural. So if a gringo says, “I’ll be in the campo next week," it means they’re going to a rural area and won’t be able to update their facebook status.

2.) Campo can also mean "field." Anthropologists keep a “diario de campo” or a “field journal,” where they take lots of notes about mundane things and make all the locals feel awkward.

Campo cheese:
THE cheese in Ecuador. It’s a white, fresh cheese, packaged in water, so it’s usually wet when served raw. (note: it probably doesn’t come from the campo… but accuracy is not what Gringo Spanglish is about). After some digging, I’ve decided there is no equivalent cheese here in the United States-- the queso blanco/queso fresco at the Mexican grocery store is a bit different. I suspect it's the stinky cousin of fresh mozzarella. WARNING: Many arguments have ensued between gringos about the relative value of campo cheese. Personally, I find it nauseating, and my body can't digest it.

Piled High and Deeper

This fall, because the whole Ecuador business wasn't enough, I'm applying to Ph.D. programs in Sociocultural Anthropology. And Ph.D. Comics (Piled High and Deeper) is my new favorite distraction from writing admissions and fellowship applications. The entire comic strip is devoted to the absurdities of academia. Sometimes, a cynical reminder of just what I'm getting myself into is exactly what I need. (see 200 most popular PhD comics here).

Words & an Ironic Suggestion

According to this 2009 UCSD report, Americans consume an outrageous amount of words and other information per day:

"[Total information] consumption totaled 3.6 zettabytes and 10,845 trillion words, corresponding to 100,500 words and 34 gigabytes for an average person on an average day."

I don't know what the hell a "zettabyte" is, but it sounds like a lot. 100,500 words per person per day-- see the breakdown in the pie chart above. How is that possible?! I must say, I am seriously looking forward to cutting the umbilical cord that ties me to this laptop while in Ecuador. Chao digital information overload.

Well, on that note, I've added a "Subscribe to Blog" option (top-right corner) so you can now receive my new blog entries (1-2/week) via e-mail. This will be the easiest way to ensure I'm alive while I'm abroad. Words words words.

Signs of Life

After a few weeks of panic & some hassling, I finally received signs of life from Ecuador's Fulbright Commission. I do not have a University teaching assignment yet. However, I do have a region they are planning to place me in: the Sierra (the Andes/Highlands)! That narrows the possibilities quite a bit.

La Sierra 101:

Ecuador has 3 regions-- the Sierra, the Coast, and the Amazon. The geographies, histories, local cultures and ethnicities could not be more different between the 3 regions. It is common for Ecuadorians to identify first with their region (ex: Sierra), and second with their locality (ex: the city of Cuenca). There is some political and social tension between regions, especially coastal (costeños) and highland (andinos) people. Quito is considered the hub of the Sierra, the "historic center," and Ecuador's political capital. Guayaquil is the hub of the coast, the "economic center," and Ecuador's most populous city.

The Sierra tends to be Ecuador's most Catholic and socially conservative region. It has a high indigenous population, primarily Quichua tribes in rural areas. This should make it possible to begin learning the Quichua language, which is my incredibly nerd-tastic goal that is almost impossible to accomplish here in the United States. It's also a goal that most Ecuadorians, even most Quichua people, do not understand-- since indigenous languages have historically been associated with poverty, "backwardness," and even "dirtiness." Racism persists. But I would like to learn it. More to come on how that develops.

Bottom Line: I have a tiny bit of information! Wheels are turning. Plan to come visit?

3 things I'll miss about my U.S. life

When I finally leave, that is. I'm still waiting on word when that will be. So here goes... this is not a comprehensive list:

3. Oxygen: Highland cities in the Ecuadorian Andes are… high. Altitude sickness (“soroche”) is real and mean. Symptoms include nausea, headache, and passing out in embarrassing places (remember this post from 2008?). Athletes prepare to be humbled. In Quito, there's also the issue of auto pollution, which covers the city with a murky grey cloud that makes it possible to "smell like Quito."

2. Normal Digestive Functioning: In theory, gringos who avoid street food and never let a drop of unboiled water touch their lips should be safe. Yeah right!! Parasites, unfriendly amoebas, and inexplicable digestive revolutions are a way of life. I recently spoke to a friend who went to Ecuador with me last time, and 16 months later, he swears his digestive track is permanently altered. This is probably not a scientifically sound claim. But it is true that the human body will do strange things when presented with new food and new bacteria.

1. Control: Along with most of suburban middle-class US, I have a well-established life of bubbles-- orderly, neat, and pretty much under my control. I tend to revel in routine. It's safe. But I have long suspected it can also smother dreams, relationships, and true feeling. My first experience in Ecuador was one lesson after another about not being in control. I couldn't direct what I ate and when [living with a family], the temperature of my faucet, if there would be water coming from my faucet, the insane buses, the cat calls, the holes in my mosquito net, the behavior of my students... etc.

I'll miss my safe routines. But it is exhilarating to establish a life with little predictability. You begin to face your day assuming that crazy, uncontrollable catastrophes are waiting (remember this?). You stop establishing expectations and making so many plans (they always fail). You start living for what is really occurring, instead of what might occur. I consider it a very authentic way of existing in the world.

Dream

Cue Handel's Messiah. I had to share this concept drawing. Word is it's slowly becoming reality, replacing the pool/crypt we have now. Excellent news for Denison, Big Red swimming and diving, and DIII athletics in general. (thanks coach Matt for posting on facebook).

Ecuador Prep

People are curious about my upcoming year as a Fulbright English Teaching Assistant in Ecuador. The bad news is that I have little information to share. I still have no university placement, no start date (although they estimate sometime in September), no visa, and no plane tickets. But I can still prepare!

For instance, I'm reading the dictionary of Spanish slang like it is a novel. I'm already to Ch-, which, as anyone who has been to the Andean region knows, is the prefix for many of the best Spanish AND Quechua curse words.

Second-language slang is easy to pick up by mirroring the context and emotion of others. You don't need to know exact definitions to be able to insult someone or know when you're being insulted. However, without access to real-life Spanish (I'm not in Ecuador yet and my TV doesn't even get Univision!), my dictionary will have to do for now.

Family Archives (6: Yearbook Shots)

School pictures are a cruel, mandatory rite-of-passage for a basic education in the United States. They are always taken after a bad haircut, while you have a cold, and/or immediately following gym class. The tiny, cut up 1 x 2 inch rectangles added a new level of annoying to my picture sorting job. Here are the best of my sisters and I:

Sister A: Either she couldn't sit still long enough to stay in the frame, or was the senseless victim of a drunk camera man.

Sister J: Donning the wolf mask for her senior yearbook shot. Luckily, she already had professionals done, or Mom might have been mad.

Me: Suffering from a ridiculous face-to-glasses-frame ratio in 1st grade. Also early evidence of nerddom.

Sister C: Caught in a freak early 90's lazer show.

Family Archives (5: Sisterly Love [A Little])

"Happy Birthday Catie! Dear Catie, I know I've called you names but that doesn't mean I don't love you! Even though you called me names I still love you! (A little)"

Handmade birthday cards are so much more thoughtful, don't you think? I did not create this gem, unfortunately. Sister J made this for sister C sometime around 1997-- J would have been 7 at the time. Yay sibling love. Sometimes.

Family Archives (4: Organizing)

BEFORE: one of many boxes of chaos.
BEFORE: stacks of deteriorating photo albums and scrapbooks with dates ranging from 1970-2007.
DURING: an explosion of papers and photos on the kitchen table. And kitchen counters, floors, chairs, etc.
AFTER: school/professional photos sorted by grade level for all 4 kids.

Family Archives (3: Swimming)

How does one go about organizing 25+ years of accumulated pictures/papers/memory-laden objects from an entire family? Not sure yet. I'm still in the chaotic piles stage. BUT, if I were to sort thematically, at least 33% of everything my family owns would end up in a "SWIMMING" pile. Between me (13 years competing), sister C (7 years competing), and sister J (4 years competing), there are lots of swim meet heat sheets and highly-chlorinated-hair pictures. Above wins my "most badass" picture award. It was taken in 2005, back before I was old and tired.


This is heat sheet from the Barbara Kay Mini Meet in 1996. At 8 years old, I swam a 3:03.97 in the 200 IM (2 laps each stroke), a time I likely could NOT approach if you were to throw me in a pool today. This is where social networking makes my past really strange: Of the other swimmers in event 15 heat 5, I trained with/competed against 4 of them well into my late teens, despite moving around the country. Today I can tell you where they all are, whether they competed at a University level and where, and how they performed. Creepy?

Family Archives (2: My Dreams)

I wrote the following piece of literary genius, entitled "My Dreams," sometime around 1996. Today I'm a recent college grad facing the dreaded real world, so it's good to get a 2nd grade refresher course:
Chapter 1: My dream is to grow up and be a famous actriss. I will live in Hollywood I will visit my mom and dad evry spring. I want to have a huge house with a swimming pool. I will have a jillion friends. And I will be knowed to the name of Kimberly the Great. One of my friends will be Mickey Mouse.
(All I want so far is extreme wealth, world domination, fame and friends. But a "jillion" is not capitalized. Thanks, teacher).
Chapter two: My dream to do now is to be the best student in the hole school. I wish evry day was a holiday and I wish to have a birthday evry month. I wish all my relatives lived in Ohio insted of in Illinois. I wish I could live on a farm with a lot of animals.
(All still true. Just insert "Hawaii" instead of "Ohio.").
Chapter 3: My dream to do when I am a teenager is to learn how to drive when I am fourteen. I still want to go to Hawken also. I want to make a world record in swimming. I want to have a pet gerble named Furry. My gole when I am a teenager is to not drive my parent's crazy.
(I have strayed significantly... no world records, and no "gerble."However, I am the only8 year old ever who would identify the protection of her parent's sanity as a primary goal).
Chapter 4: My dream to do when I am a grandma is to have thirteen grandchildren like my Grandma Lewis. I want to have a dog that looks like my next door neighbor's dog. His name is Bo. Bo is very large and he is black and white.
(Too early to tell).

Family Archives (1: Report Card)

This week I am home in South Carolina, caring for the dog menagerie while my parents hit the beaches. Since I find boredom excruciating, I have decided to dive into the mysterious "Lewis family history" closet (that's not a metaphor... it is literally a closet). From what I can tell, our family's collection of photos and assorted "memory objects" have been shoved in boxes and transported around the country for the last 25 years or so. The resulting boxes of chaos create serious anxiety for type A people like myself.

As I organize, I'll digitize and post my favorite finds (sparing my family and sticking to Kim-oriented things).

Today, I present compelling evidence from 1995 that I have always been a perfectionist. Above is the "Personal Social Growth and Work Habits" section of my 2nd grade report card. You'll note that I received the highest marks possible in all areas except one: "Demonstrates Verbal Self Control." The teacher says, "Kim is a nice girl who seems happy and comfortable at school. She has many friends and enjoys the company of both girls and boys. Kim can be quite social and occasionally needs a reminder concerning verbal self-control." Yes. I forsee a bright future of not shutting up.

Blog --> Print

An old blog post ("Eulogy for Fall Semester"- Dec. 28 2009) has been made over and printed in the summer edition of Denison Magazine. Read it HERE.

Ends/ Means

Graduation: there is much to say. Commencement weekend was beautiful. Too beautiful I might actually risk ruining it with words... this is only a bit of what is floating around my head.

Commencement, Baccaleaureate, the funny cap, ill-fitting gown, shiny cords, and diploma are "ends." They are certainly important, but completely unrepresentative of the means (how I got to the photographs above). The means were less shiny; more real.

Being real, my eighth and final semester of college was the most difficult of them all. It was epically long and exhausting. It was physically/emotionally/spiritually draining until the very last moment. I am much too close to begin drafting my reflective memoir. But I think, when I look back on this strange chapter of my life, I'll say I learned about the means. I learned about getting through a class period (not a course), a page (not a paper), and a day (not a semester).

I am grateful to everyone involved in the many steps I took towards graduation-- the means. My diploma pales in comparison to the warm and generous wisdom of my friends, family, professors, coaches and mentors. My only thought for repaying you is to lead an important life. Not a life of being important... I have heard that is overrated. An important life, embracing the full range of human experience and making life better for others. I will carry you with me.

Tomorrow

Rough

One "page in process" from my Spanish research. Ouch. Lesson learned: never, ever become attached to a first draft. Especially in your second language, because even good ideas can be grammatically nonsensical.

Chaos: a portrait

This is my desk, circa April 31, 2010, shortly before I turned in my second senior thesis. Can you find: 3 separate coffee mugs, a rubber duck, Fulbright acceptance materials, a pocket Ecuadorian constitution, a Michel Foucault greeting card, something that says "Honduras", a handmade ceramic dish, a Jesus action figure, 2 graduation tassels, an ipod, and something in support of gay marriage?

Unsurprisingly, I have found it nearly impossible to work at my desk this year. I am packing everything up now, in anticipation of graduation (countdown: 7 days). The ants are mostly gone.

Spanish Thesis

Spanish speakers/readers can access the full text of my thesis ("Ecuadorian History and the Construction of Female Subjectivities: an Analysis of Three Novels by Alicia Yanez Cossio")
AQUÍ.

True.