World Civ. ran a little long last night...
My stomach is sick
battlefield on my insides
lots of gatorade
No more chicken, please
if I eat more meat I´ll cause
open rebellion
I feel sort of sick
who knows, maybe I´m dying
Shelby gets my door
[notice a theme yet?]
Spanish was cancelled
I fear this class is pointless
I should have stayed home
Dear stomach critters,
please up and die already
you are unwelcome
Microbes: rent is due
you should consider this your
evacuation notice
A senseless haiku
pop culture reference needed
so, ¨This is Sparta¨
My head is pounding
I think it´s a tumor
I watch too much House
All men are soldiers
women run government
Well, this is Sparta
[the lecture was on ancient Greece]
¨I´m going to start¨?!
It´s been forty five minutes
Dear stomach, hold on
I love my sister
even when she creeps on me
Facebook stalking, much?
Hana Casita
your name has five syllables
perfect for haikus
Paper is precious
It has so many uses
write, draw, fold, toss gum
Yo, preggo lady.
I think you´re beautiful
You know who you are.
Socrates, buddy
stop making people look dumb
they´ll kill you for it
[an ode to Plato]
My imprisoned soul
cannot reach full potential
locked in this classroom
[Laurel]
A little birdie
told me that you like haikus
let´s share some, shall we?
You argue a lot
it´s making my brain sleepy
Kum Bah Ya, my friends
You´ve said ¨Last¨ so much
I don´t want to raise false hope
in case you talk more
Thursday, September 16, 2010
Friday, September 10, 2010
Allow Me To Introduce...
Juan Pablo, my host sister´s boyfriend.
He speaks really fast Spanish, doesn´t drink, thinks I´m ¨precious,¨drives a tricked out green sports car, asks me to translate Black Eyed Peas, and doesn´t like cucumbers.
He speaks really fast Spanish, doesn´t drink, thinks I´m ¨precious,¨drives a tricked out green sports car, asks me to translate Black Eyed Peas, and doesn´t like cucumbers.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Laughing Words
Circe McDonald, you may be the only person to fully appreciate this.
I have the Ecuadorian version of Dominican University´s Dr. Momo as a professor for one of my classes. I´ve been saving some quotes to share with you. He and the class shall remain unnamed, just in case. Rest assured that his words are meant only for humor.
Parental Advisory - Some instances of strong language.
¨Say you have a boyfriend. He is a sonofab!tch. You still think you can change him, no?¨
" I don´t want to breastfeed my baby. My boobs will sag."
"Do you want to live forever?...No? ...So you wanna die."
"If your marriage is not consumed....¨
"There was no time for the human need to just sit down with the one you love and bullsh!t."
"I ran in Olympia. Where the atheletes run. So I made myself to think that I was running nude. Because they used to run nude.¨
I have the Ecuadorian version of Dominican University´s Dr. Momo as a professor for one of my classes. I´ve been saving some quotes to share with you. He and the class shall remain unnamed, just in case. Rest assured that his words are meant only for humor.
Parental Advisory - Some instances of strong language.
¨Say you have a boyfriend. He is a sonofab!tch. You still think you can change him, no?¨
" I don´t want to breastfeed my baby. My boobs will sag."
"Do you want to live forever?...No? ...So you wanna die."
"If your marriage is not consumed....¨
"There was no time for the human need to just sit down with the one you love and bullsh!t."
"I ran in Olympia. Where the atheletes run. So I made myself to think that I was running nude. Because they used to run nude.¨
Mi Compañera Chileana
Note - Parental Advisory: Some instances of strong language.
Dearest Bethany
Some haikus from Guayaquil
I know you love them.
Boys here are ballsy
I guess that gringas are rare
Want to get pizza?
I want to be friends
Let´s go have pizza, not sex
Damn cultural norms.
Neighborhood noises
Baby crying, phone ringing
Despues, regreso.
Stop honking at me
I find your stares offensive
Please leave me alone.
Host brother smells good
takes good care of the gringa
feels like real family
High speed internet
I didn´t know what I had
I need you. Find me?
Aqui en el sur
Oigo muchas palabras
no entiendo.
I am a stranger
when I go out and about
in these city streets.
Dearest Bethany
Some haikus from Guayaquil
I know you love them.
Boys here are ballsy
I guess that gringas are rare
Want to get pizza?
I want to be friends
Let´s go have pizza, not sex
Damn cultural norms.
Neighborhood noises
Baby crying, phone ringing
Despues, regreso.
Stop honking at me
I find your stares offensive
Please leave me alone.
Host brother smells good
takes good care of the gringa
feels like real family
High speed internet
I didn´t know what I had
I need you. Find me?
Aqui en el sur
Oigo muchas palabras
no entiendo.
I am a stranger
when I go out and about
in these city streets.
Rights, pt. 2
They say there is cycle and a system to cultural adjustment. That all extranjeros follow a certain pattern, to some extent. Along this pattern line there is a point where we´re all supposed to face the deeper differences between our host culture and our home culture. Perhaps I´ve hit that, and perhaps that´s why this question of rights continues to pop up.
Background:
I used to be a poli-sci major. Keeping up on the news was part of my morning ritual. Wake up. Brush teeth. Read headlines. Put on socks.
But since arriving in Ecuador, I´ve fallen off the bandwagon. Thus, I only found out two days ago that the U.S. is leaving Iraq. This realization sent me in search of more U.S. news, and so yesterday found me on the NYTimes website. I stumbled upon the Terry Jones story.
Mr. Jones is the preacher who is promoting Sept. 11 as ¨International Burn a Koran Day.¨ Perhaps you heard of him.
I won´t recount the story here, because it´s pretty easy to find and read for yourself. But my reaction brings back this question of rights.
When I read the articles about Mr. Jones, I was shocked, angry, and hurt, for several reasons:
As an American, particularly an American in a foreign country, I am dissapointed to be associated with his xenophobia. I´m the only U.S. citizen in one of my classes (and one of two in another). This makes me an ambassador of sorts when we talk about cultural values, and to have stories like this circulating makes it that much harder to explain to my classmates that not all Americans are the same.
As a Christian, I am offended to be linked to his intolerance. How can I expect people to believe me when I tell them that I serve a loving and merciful God, when someone is proclaiming hate and intolerance in His name?
As a human being, I am ashamed. One of the articles I read included an interview with a Muslim man in Mr. Jone´s nieghborhood. His concluding statement was that on Sept. 11 he will honor the American tragedy the same way he does every year, by going downtown and feeding the homeless. When people who don´t profess to following Christ do a better job of it than those that do, I have no choice but to question our motives.
Thus, I´m angered by this story. My brain is screaming. What right does Mr. Jones have to spread hatred and intolerance like this?
So, like any good 21st century American youth wanting to let off some steam, I posted my thoughts on facebook. [This in itself is shameful, but I´ll come back to that]. In response to my post, my good friend Aaron raised a valid question:
What right do I have to tell Mr. Jones what he can and cannot do? If he buys a book in the U.S., legally, he has the right to do just about whatever he wants with it. At what point do we draw the line?
Food for thought, at any rate.
In hindsight, I am ashamed that my first reaction to something I find unjust is to post it on facebook [and now, a blog]. My good friend Lianni used to remind me about the difference between charity and justice. Putting on a bandaid, and finding the source of the pain. Both are necessary. Perhaps this is a situation where I need to practice a little less lip-service charity, and seek out ways to work towards justice.
Background:
I used to be a poli-sci major. Keeping up on the news was part of my morning ritual. Wake up. Brush teeth. Read headlines. Put on socks.
But since arriving in Ecuador, I´ve fallen off the bandwagon. Thus, I only found out two days ago that the U.S. is leaving Iraq. This realization sent me in search of more U.S. news, and so yesterday found me on the NYTimes website. I stumbled upon the Terry Jones story.
Mr. Jones is the preacher who is promoting Sept. 11 as ¨International Burn a Koran Day.¨ Perhaps you heard of him.
I won´t recount the story here, because it´s pretty easy to find and read for yourself. But my reaction brings back this question of rights.
When I read the articles about Mr. Jones, I was shocked, angry, and hurt, for several reasons:
As an American, particularly an American in a foreign country, I am dissapointed to be associated with his xenophobia. I´m the only U.S. citizen in one of my classes (and one of two in another). This makes me an ambassador of sorts when we talk about cultural values, and to have stories like this circulating makes it that much harder to explain to my classmates that not all Americans are the same.
As a Christian, I am offended to be linked to his intolerance. How can I expect people to believe me when I tell them that I serve a loving and merciful God, when someone is proclaiming hate and intolerance in His name?
As a human being, I am ashamed. One of the articles I read included an interview with a Muslim man in Mr. Jone´s nieghborhood. His concluding statement was that on Sept. 11 he will honor the American tragedy the same way he does every year, by going downtown and feeding the homeless. When people who don´t profess to following Christ do a better job of it than those that do, I have no choice but to question our motives.
Thus, I´m angered by this story. My brain is screaming. What right does Mr. Jones have to spread hatred and intolerance like this?
So, like any good 21st century American youth wanting to let off some steam, I posted my thoughts on facebook. [This in itself is shameful, but I´ll come back to that]. In response to my post, my good friend Aaron raised a valid question:
What right do I have to tell Mr. Jones what he can and cannot do? If he buys a book in the U.S., legally, he has the right to do just about whatever he wants with it. At what point do we draw the line?
Food for thought, at any rate.
In hindsight, I am ashamed that my first reaction to something I find unjust is to post it on facebook [and now, a blog]. My good friend Lianni used to remind me about the difference between charity and justice. Putting on a bandaid, and finding the source of the pain. Both are necessary. Perhaps this is a situation where I need to practice a little less lip-service charity, and seek out ways to work towards justice.
Wednesday, September 8, 2010
Thought Words
¨Ojos que no ven. Corazon que no siente.¨
¨Eyes that don´t see. Heart that doesn´t feel.¨
It has become my practice, as I walk to the bus stop every morning, to count how many times I get honked or yelled at. So far the highest has been ten times. By the time I get on the bus my American pride is usually seething. What right have THEY to talk to me? To yell at me? To look at me? I´m not here for their enjoyment. Why can´t they just leave me alone? Just because I´m a good six shades lighter than they are doesn´t mean I don´t understand the words they hurl at me. Their advances are unwelcome. And I have learned very quickly to make that explicitely clear through facial expression and body language.
But it´s a funny word, ¨rights.¨
The proverb at the top came up in a discussion in my World Civ. class last night, and it got me thinking. The ten minute walk to the bus stop leaves me perturbed and insulted, internally justified that I shouldn´t be subject to unwanted attention, but once I get on the bus, are my eyes open to the world outside the window? Even the catcalls are a sign of an underlying social...something. I´m here to learn and to absorb. But in the process of that learning, what right have I, especially as a proclaimed member of the body of Christ, to close MY eyes to the world that I am now immersed in, strange as it may be?
This is not to say that I´m ever going to be comfortable with the attention I get in my neighborhood. But perhaps a better solution than running to the CEI - Center for International Education - and asking them what Ecuador´s self defense laws will let me get away with, I should instead ask them to explain to me the cultural undercurrents that determine things like women´s rights here. Perhaps.
¨Eyes that don´t see. Heart that doesn´t feel.¨
It has become my practice, as I walk to the bus stop every morning, to count how many times I get honked or yelled at. So far the highest has been ten times. By the time I get on the bus my American pride is usually seething. What right have THEY to talk to me? To yell at me? To look at me? I´m not here for their enjoyment. Why can´t they just leave me alone? Just because I´m a good six shades lighter than they are doesn´t mean I don´t understand the words they hurl at me. Their advances are unwelcome. And I have learned very quickly to make that explicitely clear through facial expression and body language.
But it´s a funny word, ¨rights.¨
The proverb at the top came up in a discussion in my World Civ. class last night, and it got me thinking. The ten minute walk to the bus stop leaves me perturbed and insulted, internally justified that I shouldn´t be subject to unwanted attention, but once I get on the bus, are my eyes open to the world outside the window? Even the catcalls are a sign of an underlying social...something. I´m here to learn and to absorb. But in the process of that learning, what right have I, especially as a proclaimed member of the body of Christ, to close MY eyes to the world that I am now immersed in, strange as it may be?
This is not to say that I´m ever going to be comfortable with the attention I get in my neighborhood. But perhaps a better solution than running to the CEI - Center for International Education - and asking them what Ecuador´s self defense laws will let me get away with, I should instead ask them to explain to me the cultural undercurrents that determine things like women´s rights here. Perhaps.
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Pablo Clabo un Clabito
I'm in Guayaquil with my family.
I like them a lot.
I love Ecuador.
School is good.
Friends are great.
Buses are confusing.
Internet is intermittent.
But I'm happy.
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