1/4 CENTURY HIGHLIGHTS

I meant to get this blog out before last week, but here I am.... a few days wiser. So I give you this, a special 25th birthday blog.

Most of my friends in Spain are older than me. Many of my friends at home are already in the Quarter Century club. I've reached a point in my life where I seek understanding. I search for the place where emotions come from, and try to understand circumstances and situations as pieces in the puzzle. I realize that there is a reason why I'm drawn to certain people and why I feel completely neutral towards others who, perhaps at one point in my life, played a very important role. There must be a reason why specific ideas, words, songs or moments stick with me. For my personal pleasure and for those who maybe share one of the following memories or empathize with the feelings or the lessons learned, I have compiled a list of KK's QUARTER CENTURY HIGHLIGHTS.

In no particular order:

1) It does, however, seem pertinent to begin with memories directly involving the most influential men in my life: Cameron and Caleb, my brothers. Last year I actually wrote an entire post about this so I'll keep it brief. The weekend I consciously fell in love with my brothers. They swooped me from my dorm room in Irvine and we went on a magical journey. Together we discovered the joys of sharing sweat with 100 thousand other barefoot hippies, some naked (we were clothed), flying high and sinking low as a trio, realizing that together we are a selfless, protective and supportive team. The three of us, we are best friends. If there is ever something I want to experience or see or anywhere I want to travel, my first thought is, let's go, the three of us.

It happened again, the day before I graduated from the university. The trio, we tripped to a private beach somewhere between Laguna and Dana Point. This day was one of those, I'm so in love with my brothers experiences. Those emotionally charged times of such highs and lows are the most special ones. They are the moments when we need each other most and when we have each other the most. With my brothers, my fears will never be too big to conquer because without even realizing it, they do everything in their power to keep me sane, strong and wise.

2) "One day, we'll laugh about this..." Remember when I broke my tail bone? Medics strapped me on a life board, neck brace, hands tied, then stuffed me in a canoe, covered my body with a tarp, began bringing me down the mountain but things went wrong in the storm, the Aussie manning the ropes fell, let go of my canoe, I went crashing into a snowbank, tipped over, couldn't breath, was convinced I broke both my arms, finally got to the hospital, every muscle in my back spasming but they wouldn't unstrap me until they got a hold of my mom or dad to ask about medical insurance but couldn't because they were working, painfully peed standing up and all that came out was blood that stung like hell, realized I had a urine infection, ate some artichoke dip with my mom and got food poisoning, spent 8 hours vomiting in the bathroom standing up because I couldn't sit, squat or bend but whatever because it is impossible to vomit without flexing the sphincter which I had broken 2 days before (well the coxis or however you spell it) but then spent 2 weeks flat on my face, not moving from my couch, finally had to go back down south to school and got to board the plane first with other handicapped people and my ass donut under my arm, and then got laughed at by sorority girls in an Anthro class for using my ass donut in lecture?????? One day, we did finally laugh about that.

3) Being 23 (See last post)

4) Remember tomboy basketball superstar Karli? My dad trained me well, coached me hard and sometimes forgot that we were bony little 11 year old girls. During one tournament in Sac town or somewhere near home, my dear old daddy-o and coach was ejected from the game. Now, girls basketball for us was very serious. And we were competing at a level where emotions ran very high for both players and coaches. We all know that in athletics, Dave may have a short temper. He's an incredible coach with wisdom beyond many but when things get intense, so does Dave. I know I'll get sympathy from my HS friends who are his ex-baseball players, their parents and also a certain Athletic Director who was my ex-basketball coach when I say that on the field or court, he doesn't always censor his words. Well that one game, the referee didn't want my father's company in the gym. Out he went in the first half. My number one fan, Granny, happened to be in attendance that day. As we were leaving school, (and whether we won or lost that game I'll never know) my tiny little boot scooting grandmother who may have appeared a fragile 70 something year old walked straight up to that big, buff, power stricken black man referee, tapped him on the shoulder (if she could even reach...maybe it was his elbow) and when he turned around, towering over her, my Granny looked him straight in the eye, pointed her finger at what was probably his belly button he was so tall, and said: "Hey ref... YOU'RE MEAN." And then, she walked away. "And that's my Grandma with a capital G!"

5) I tell this story as it is told by the only person who witnessed it and has the memory enough to remember it: my cousin Jesse.

Cammy and I used to, naturally, bathe together. While that happened, my older brother and Jesse, 4 and 5 years older than us respectively, would run about the house playing with Leggos or whatever. One day, as Jesse is walking down the hall, he stops in front of the open bathroom door and what he sees is an image burned into his memory forever AND, has no problem sharing it with whomever he pleases. What did he see? Little blank-faced Karli, plopped down in the tub, and Cameron, standing over her, peeing on her head.

6) Spring in Newport Beach. 20 units of upper grad Anthropology and Spanish classes which I need to complete to be able to graduate. A 25 hour a week part-time job. The upstairs neigbors, 6 boys each with a different party schedule and girl in their bed every night... But it didn't matter. I didn't need sleep. I lived off those stoney night bike rides to my girl's tree house, the sleepovers where I watched Emily sleep and I listened the the neighbor's techno music and knife throwing and window crashing, the Irish Car Bombs at Malarky's, the road trips up the 101 and my escapes to Santa Barbara, the afternoons in Aldrich park throwing ourselves in the grass surrounded by the Aloe Vera forest and lathering our bodies in green gooey liquid as we actually anticipated class: Advanced Spanish linguistics. What a dream....

Oh, and thank you Dave and Kelly for my education!


7) In the university, I changed my major from Spanish to Anthropology. Then after a year, I changed it back to Spanish. Then in my third year I picked up Anthropology without dropping the former. In EVERYTHING I am obnoxiously indecisive, so I feel like my Spanish degree chose me. And then I got on a plane to leave the country for the first time. And then I arrived in Spain. That was in 2007....

Here, I've truly learned hospitality, and that Europe is a good place to live if you can't stay put. The temptation of such an effective rail system and midnight buses waiting to whisk you across borders is ever present. And affordable. The people here speak the language of love and know how to enjoy. Thank you Spanish, for choosing me. Thank you for burrowing your way so deep into my brain and my heart. In Spanish Ling, you gave me Kendy. Thank you, Spain, for your wonderful people that do nothing but love and teach, feed and humor me. And thank you, for giving me JP.

8) For a greater part of my life, everything revolved around basketball. Thousands of hours I have spent in the Forest Lake gym and my driveway dedicating myself to a game I loved and shared with some truly amazing teammates, opponents and fans. Hundreds of car trips and weekends away from home. Thousands of dollars my parents spent on hotels, gasoline, fancy jerseys with KEPHART printed on the back that I so proudly wore. And my dad. He spent every single hour with me in the gym, on the court, in the car... At the time it was harder to understand but during those 11 years, I was dedicating myself to something greater. The pain from injuries, the fatigue, the heartbreak and frustration balanced with the feeling of individual and group success, the camaraderie with my girls, learning to trust in myself... Basketball plays a huge part in who I am today. One of the very last times I stepped on the court was during my senior year of High School. 17 years old, a night to honor the seniors, those who would be graduating that year. None of us went on to play in college (though many others from my other teams did) but we had had such incredible careers. That night, I walked on the court with my Mother and Father by my side as they shared the spotlight with me. It was really sad. It was probably just as hard for my Mom as it was for me. It was most difficult for my Dad. Because that next year I left for the University and my Mom would tell me that he would watch my old game tapes in the living room, by himself, and cry. During those 11 years, I didn't realize really how invested he was in my career. Of course I knew he supported me and because he really does love sports and competitions more than anyone I know, and he certainly loves me, but now, I can appreciate that he was with me through every heartbreaking loss and moments of blissful triumph and he was feeling everything I was. And that made all the difference. I will forever share that with my Father. He pushed me and expected so much from me. And nothing has changed. He will continue to do so because we have that bond, strengthened by the years we spent together. Thank you for being there with me on Senior Night. Though I didn't know then, that night was dedicated to you.

9) Heartbreak.. speaking of.... It has to be the biggest blessing in disguise. Heartbreak comes from having loved and dedicated yourself to something or someone. With each year I am learning that I am so lucky to have been heartbroken. To feel that ache and yearning for someone or something. We feel heartbreak because we have had the opportunity to love. I have. And I am grateful. I still feel heartbreak but it's balanced without something else... Something so wonderful I can't explain. It could be something like universal opposites. If at times we feel shittier than shit, it's because we know what it's like to feel giddy butterfly rainbow joy happier than happy. Without one, the other wouldn't exist. So, cheers to heartbreak, and red wine to help you through it!

10) Nostalgia. Along the same lines as heartbreak, I have found a way to embrace nostalgia. Mostly, mine comes from HOME. It isn't the easiest thing to live so far away from my family. People ask me all the time what it's like. And then I tell them about my family. About the incredible people they are, about the strong relationships I have with them. And they ask me how I do it. How do I live thousands of miles away from them? If it weren't for them, I wouldn't be here in Spain. It isn't easy living across the Atlantic. But something inside me yearns for difference. Because difference masks opportunities to learn about others, the world and about ourselves. The easiest solution for me was packing up and going somewhere new. New language, new culture, new new new. It's who I am. I need this adventure and more than anything, it's a challenge. But nostalgia is always taking me back to more familiar feelings and places. It happens through music, through smells and facebook of course. Seeing photos of friends who still see each other. This nostalgia used to kill me. But now, I know it's because I have HOME. Like, safety zone. I can always go back, and they let me. My parents tolerate (between both my brothers and I) so much coming and going, changing bedrooms, emptying bedrooms, buying beds to fill bedrooms. We come and go in cycles and they let us. They let us have HOME. So because of that, we'll always have nostalgia. And now I see it's a blessing. Plus, I'd much rather have a family worth missing than being able to leave the country forever with no desire to return. So there you have it. Nostalgia, you're ok!

11) Last year in Barcelona, my friends John, Rachel and I decided to go out. I didn't have a change of clothes nor makeup. We just went. We showed up all scraggly to this fancy disco on the beach. I don't like that place or any dance clubs like it, really... except for the beach side terrace and pillow lounge. That's awesome. So anyways, we went because a friend of a friend or whatever had an event. So we went. And we danced. We danced and danced and danced some more. The music was probably really annoying. Lots of radio song remixes and shit. And the people and the ambiance was probably whatever. But we just danced. Together, with the bamboo sticks. At one point we were on the stage dancing. Then naturally, once everyone saw us up there they tried to climb up but the DJ wouldn't let them! Only for us! Then all of a sudden the music stopped and the DJ started talking in the microphone. and he came out on stage with us with a bottle of champagne, he put his arm around me and he said (in English): "And the winner of the dance competition is THIS GIRL!!!!!" So, I accidentally won a dance-off. And my friends and I were rewarded with bubbly and an empty stage to do our thang thang.

The moral of the story: Just dance. Gunna be ok, gotta da do it, Just dance. (And you will be rewarded!)


I hope I make it another quarter century so I can learn more things about life, love and dancing!

CHEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERS!!!