Its so interesting to me how much we as a society base our opinions of people on looks. Even if someone is not particularly nice or intelligent, people will be more likely to want to be friends with them if they are physically attractive than someone who is less physically attractive but has a great personality. Its fascinating to me that our reputations and social status are often viewed as more important than having meaningful and deep relationships. I'll be the first to admit I'm not always the nicest person. I tend to play the devil's advocate in almost any situation, and I don't go out of my way to be friendly to people. Maybe its a bad way of thinking, but I'd rather have a few close friends that accept me for me and with whom I can argue about different concepts and theories than to have a large group of friends who I feel I have to impress. Its so interesting to me that we as a society base so many of our opinions about someone on genetics- something that no one has any control over. Sure there is makeup and plastic surgery, but the fact that people see these as a way to improve their image is sad to me in a way. I myself use makeup because I've noticed on days when I don't wear it, people in general are less friendly. I really enjoyed participating in the Miss Nebraska Teen pageant because the emphasis was on self confidence and self worth, rather than on fitting into a mold for standard beauty. My roommate in the pageant was a rather large girl, and she managed to have more confidence than most of the other girls combined. Because of that, she was well liked. She rocked a one piece with total confidence and grace, and was an example for all of the other girls. Many people scoff at pageants and say the participants are vain and egotistic. Sure, I invested lots of money into the pageant, but that weekend stands out as one of the top three experiences in my life. Everyone was so supportive and friendly, and the focus was on inner beauty and accepting ourselves for who we are. Its odd to think that within a pageant people would be less judgmental of looks than in the rest of society, but it seemed to be the case. Pageant pics
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Something that becomes clear once spending any significant amount of time around me is that I often switch from topic to topic within my head, and get frustrated when others don't switch as easily. For example when debating I tend to bring facts together from several different disciplines, rather than sticking to one specific theme. Although this is not directly related to what I'm about to say, I do think it will help the reader to better understand. Dialogue between my host mom and I (she's M and I'm R): M: "How is your Peruvian literature class going?" R: "Pretty good. We don't really study literature though, we mostly focus on history." later in the day R: "Mom can you help me with this story? I don't understand something?" M: "Sure let me go get my glasses." *comes back* M: "What do you need help with?" R: "I don't understand this passage. The woman turns into stone halfway through the story. I don't understand how the man can still be looking for her when he knows she's already stone, so obviously she's still in the same place she was when she became stone." M: blank stare *pause* M: "You realize this isn't Peruvian history right? Its a myth. Everything in here was made up. People really can't turn into stone." R: "Yes... I know that. But why does he still look for her when she never moved?" M: *reads more of the story* "You realize animals can't talk right? This whole story is fake. Its just a myth." R: "Yes I know, I'm just still confused about why the story still continues after the woman becomes stone. I really don't understand how the man wouldn't know where she was?" M: *stares at me* "the whole story is fake. This is not what really happened in Peruvian history." R: *sudden realization* "Oh no, I mean I know this is just a story. Everything else we've learned in my literature class has mostly been Peruvian history. M: "Oh thank God you're not crazy." Moral of the story: Spanish makes things more confusing than they should be. Pictures with momAt first, all went well today. I was researching my personality type which, by the way happens to be INTP, when all hell broke loose. It started innocently enough, I tilted my head to the side and two beatles fell out of my hair. This was not the first time in the past 24 hours this had happened, so I didn't think much of it. I started to calmly walk toward the bathroom so I could grab a tissue with which to carry the beatles outside. However as I was walking I noticed the beatles were not simply rolling around, they were mating. Disgusted that this was taking place on my bed, I grabbed my school notebook, ripped out some sheets, and flung the beatles out my window. I'm not sure if the stuff squirting all over my bed were beatle eggs, waste, or something else but I couldn't get it off my bed fast enough. As I'm writing this I'm warily eyeing the relatives of the beatles I murdered crawling on my bed. One keeps crawling in and out of my ear, one is behind my pillow, and one is lazily walking along my bed. I can't say I blame them for coming to mourn the loss of their relatives, but I do wish they would all move to a swamp somewhere.
Last week I went to Mancora, Peru for spring break. I got off to a rough start on my trip. It was a 17 hour bus ride from Lima, which ended up being more like 20 hours due to traffic. Spending 20 hours in a bus would drive anyone crazy, but for some unknown reason I was super sick on the bus. I don't know if it was due to motion sickness or something I ate, but it turned out to be the bus ride from hell. First of all it was a double decker bus, and I, being in the very back row of the second layer had to first walk to the front of the bus, make my way down rickety stairs, and then walk through the first level to reach the bathroom. This did not make for very easy bathroom access. Luckily some other passengers were willing to offer plastic bags whenever there seemed to be danger of projectile vomit. Like I said, bus ride from hell. What's worse is this started at the beginning of the trip. It wasn't as though I only had to endure 2 hours. It was almost an entire day of non stop torture. That day also happened to be the day I learned my friends don't understand the purpose of a money belt. Everyone was just sitting around eating cookies when my friend Anna opened her mouth and said very clearly and loudly "Hey you guys!! Rachel is wearing a money belt!!! If you have any cash you want to give her she can put it in there!! Its right underneath her tshirt on her stomach area. I already put in $500 and she has $300!!! We also both have our credit cards in there and our passports!!!!!" I about dropped over from surprise that she didn't continue to share both of our pin numbers and social security numbers as well as home addresses. English is not by any means an uncommon language, and I, being a worrywart by nature, felt sicker and sicker with the thought that people on the bus knew I had so much money around my stomach. Afraid of being stabbed, if not worse, I didn't sleep a wink. Some men eyed me when Anna went to the bathroom and I cursed myself for offering to share my money belt. As luck would have it we made it to Mancora without a stabbing incident. Day trip to ecuadorNight out in mancora |