1 week left

With only one week left of my first term of college, I've decided to take exactly 16 minutes of my Friday night in the library to reflect a bit:

Firstly, I want to say that college is hard. I sincerely hope that my views about college's difficulties change over time because I don't know if I can live like this for four years. And I'm not talking about academics, either. I can deal with tough classes and a big workload; I'm used to trying hard in school. The difficult part for me (which is what I've both feared the most and looked forward to the most from the start) is the social aspect. Life is just... different.

I'm much more aware of my identity than ever before - my ethnic background, my west coast-ness that people always comment on, my hair color, my sexuality - and I can't say if it's a good awareness or a bad awareness. I'm just more conscious.

A lot of people here have the same problems and concerns with the college and it's nice to know I'm not the only one. I've done things I'm not proud of (already, ugh!) but I'm also amazed at myself for being able to cope so well (ie. walking to the skating rink for 7:45 AM practice in 31 degree weather).

My next term is gonna suck in terms of scheduling but hopefully I'll have adjusted better. For now, I can't wait to start my 6 weeks of winter break in the Bay Area with Elliott. Just gotta get through this next week of finals.

Land of ice

Leaving Reykjavik today for our 13-day drive around the country. Excited for hot springs, geothermal pools, geysir, puffins, whale watching, no internet, kindle reading and more. I hope to not talk to anyone from back home on this trip because sometimes I just want to disappear. ✨

hm

the gentle tapping of the rain
the continuous drips knocking on my window
is making

me

so

slee-

py.


...


.


.


.


college apps x homework x midterms x sats x life

Me, the fish girl

Most of my breaks in elementary school consisted of watching Friends reruns and eating Cuties tangerines on the couch – evident from the mounds of peels I had in my trashcan by the end of the day. But I had a bombass winter break in 4^th grade. I had always been a fan of animals, and loved pets. This was back when I wanted to be a veterinarian, and also before I discovered my cat allergies.

For Christmas, I asked for mealworms –yes, the larval form of the mealworm beetle- because I thought they were cute. My dad took me to Petco, and they only sold them in boxes of 100 and no way was my mother going to allow 100 potential beetles into her house. So my dreams of racing mealworms Indy 500 –style across my kitchen tiles were crushed. I then resorted to asking for fish.

Why I chose Siamese fighting fish to breed, I have no idea. But if I couldn’t have 100 mealworms, I was willing to settle for 100 betta fish. I put the two into one tank and waited for the magic to happen. Unfortunately, their idea of magic was not what I had in mind, as Unnamed (male) viciously chased Muffidi (female) all around the tank, all night long. By morning, she was missing parts of her fins, and my dad warned me that if I didn’t separate them soon, there would be no Muffidi, and thus no 100 fish babies.

I disheartenedly allowed my dad to scoop the weary and warn out female out, but that was not the end of my mission. My next stop was the library. I checked out a bunch of books on breeding techniques and betta habits, discovering an entire world of skilled breeding. I was excited, to say the least, to put my newly acquired knowledge to the test. But first I bought a new male because the one I had clearly did not respect females and was an anti-feminist. Unacceptable. No magic for him!! In an email in 2007 to a friend, I wrote:

what a surprise! you're supposed to put the male in a 2-5 gallon tank, set the temperature to about 80 degrees, and put a whole bunch of stuff in the tank. then, you put the female in a floating see through cupand put the cup in the tank.......... well VERY long story so in sum, the spawning was so beautiful. my new male built a wonderful bubblenest (my new male's name is garian and my female's name is muffidi and my old males name is lonely). garian would flip muffidi on her side, then he would squeeze her abdomen till the eggs came out, except it took them a while to do that cuz garian kept slipping off her and ended up hugging himself!! hahah.well what to do with all those fry?? hhhhmmmmmmm........ i dunno maybe give them away? possibly. right now they are all teeeensy weeeeeeensy!! and you can't tell male from female yet. but in a month, they'll all be beautiful!!! when they grow older, i'll have to seperate the males....................

So I renamed Unknown to Lonely because he would forever be single on account of his disrespect for the female body. One winter break and several pairs of betta fish later, I got what I wanted and more – I exceeded my goal of 100 fish and ended up with around 1000 fry (baby fish).

Although my fish-breeding days are long past me, I gained a new understanding of life and its creation, way before the “Family Life” videos all sixth graders are forced to watch. The concept of survival of the fittest was also introduced to me at this time, in which I horrifically witnessed the cruel consumption of fry by their own parents if they couldn’t swim fast enough. Furthermore, I gained a vast knowledge of different types of betta fish, which I way-too-excitedly got to share with my 9^th grade biology class. Luckily, people did not judge me too much and I still got a date to Winter Formal.

domestic violence / abuse blurb

It’s always easier to detect those things in hindsight, especially from a third-person perspective. But what if you’re the victim and it’s happening to you right now? What if you mistake fear for butterflies in your stomach because you’re so madly in love? What if you take the harsh words and hurtful comments as constructive criticism and harmless attempts at bettering you as a person, in order to improve your relationship? What if the unpredictability of their moods seems like just a minor, even quirky flaw, unimportant in the grand scheme of your future together? After all, love is blind.

Physical abuse is easier to identify. There are visible scars and obvious wounds as evidence to the world. But what about emotional, verbal, sexual, and mental abuse? How do you distinguish these equally painful forms of mistreatment from just having a partner who happens to be extremely protective, blunt, affectionate, or expressive? Because when you are head-over-heels enamored by this person, you excuse their faults, you take the blame for their mistakes, and you don’t realize you are the victim of their abuse.

Don't Worry, Be Happy

Bobby McFerrin's "Don't Worry, Be Happy" is one of my all-time favorite songs. Not just for its cheery beat and McFerrin's awesome accent, but for its super intelligent lyrics!

Okay, you can get the message from the song title, and okay, some guy is telling you not to worry and to be happy. BUT STOP. It's not as simple as that. Or maybe it is and I've just taken an extraordinarily long time to take his advice.

I'm a generally content person, and I've survived breakups much worse than this one, but there are still those moments when your mind gets caught in a limbo, when your train of thought gets separated before reaching its destination, floating aimlessly between one idea and the next, when suddenly your entire brain shifts gears, loses direction, and is consumed by a tunnel of memories. At least, that's how I envision my mind to be like. But what I mean is that I've been kind of sad a lonely lately.

But I had a revelation the other day: we can choose to be happy. Shit happens and life sucks some times, but we can choose how we react to those circumstances. Do we let bad things dictate how we feel? Or do we take a step back and choose for ourselves? We can choose to be happy, regardless of the situation. And what's so awesome about that, is that once we make that decision, things really do get better.

I've begun working on the dreaded college application essays that plague the first semester of senior year. Everyone loathes them, and they're probably one of the most complained-about things in high school. I mean, I've been hearing about how awful they are since 7th grade! And they're tedious because you have to sit for hours, writing and re-writing, editing and revising personal statements and supplements, over and over again. So you can sit there and complain and lament and be frustrated and procrastinate and life will suck.

Or you can choose to be happy. You can relax your brain from thinking about all those summer assignments, what you have to eat for lunch, the chaos in Egypt, and just enjoy the time that the college applications give you to think about yourself. Be selfish with the amount of brain space you allot to yourself. It's okay to be narcissistic here. All of the prompts are crafted so that colleges can learn more about you, as a person, and no one knows you better than you, so all you have to do is think about you! (Wow that's a lot of you's!) Your past, your present, and your future. It's really quite enjoyable, but only if you allow it to be.

This is mostly a note to myself, and the future me, when things get stressful and shit blows. Just remember: don't worry, be happy.

Bruno Mars lyrics are stupid

Let me start off by saying that I love to sing Bruno Mars' songs (or any pop songs, for that matter), loudly and obnoxiously in the car when I'm speeding down the freeway. And his songs, I find, are especially great for that because they're just so... singable.

But have you stopped to listen to the lyrics? As with almost all pop songs these days, they're ridiculous.

The following is from his recent single, "Treasure":

Pretty girl, pretty girl, pretty girl, you should be smiling

A girl like you should never look so blue 

Wtf. Just because this girl is aesthetically appealing, she isn't allowed to display her emotions? Is she required to always plaster on a smile, even when she is obviously unhappy? If that's the case, I hope no one ever accuses me of being pretty.

I'm not even going to go to "Marry You" or "Grenade" because those are just so dumb. There's an utterly hilarious Youtube video by Kingsley about "Grenade" that is my go-to source of entertainment.

I hate Google Maps and Our Generation

So today I was trying to go to my first aerial silks dance class (and if you don't know what that is, look it up -- it looks amazingly fun!) and like always, I opened up my trusty Google Maps app on my iPhone for navigation.

I had recently bumped up Google Maps to be the fifth app on the first screen of my homescreen so that it would come before Apple Maps, since I find Google Maps more reliable and aesthetically pleasing. AND WHAT DID I GET IN RETURN FOR GOOGLE MAPS'S PROMOTION? Incorrect directions, broken trust, and downright disappointment.

How could you do this to me, Google, how?!

The dance studio I was trying to get to has two locations -- one in Signal Hill and one in Huntington Beach. The class I wanted to attend was only available at 10 AM at the Signal Hill location. When I searched for the studio name, both locations popped up and I confidently chose the correct location, with the utmost faith in Google Maps's directions.

Being the technologically-reliant 21st century human that I am, without even checking the red dot of destination, I hit "Start" and blindly fell into the guidance of Google Maps's robot woman voice. It wasn't until I had turned onto the street of the Huntington Beach studio that I realized I was, in fact, at the Huntington Beach studio and not the Signal Hill one.

And I, ladies and gentleman, am a prime example of today's youth - a generation unscathed by paper maps and unexposed to non- step-by-step voice-guided navigation, one that is easily led astray by confused Global Positioning Systems. I hate Google Maps and our generation.

Volunteering Abroad is Easy!

When I began my search for volunteering abroad opportunities during my sophomore year of high school, the biggest obstacle was the price.

"It ain't about the money, money, money..." the great artist Jessie J. once said. But guuuuurl, let me tell you, it IS about the money. How can volunteers, who are already donating their time and efforts into conducting these humanitarian services, be expected to dish out thousands of dollars just to be given the opportunity to help? (Especially when a large portion of that goes to companies, not the ones in need!)

I loved everything about my trip to Tinkuy Peru - the kids, the other volunteers, my host family, and the price. My only expenses were my plane ticket, and the cost of room and board at Tino & Mari's house. That's how it should be. But why was it so difficult to find a program that was reasonably-priced??

Perhaps I wasn't looking in the right places. I remember Vivian and I spent hours after school at my house doing Google searches and calling up dozens of organizations. Yet somehow, on this lazy Sunday afternoon, while evading my English essay, I've managed to stumble across thousands of global volunteer and internship opportunities.

Three main websites I am most impressed with and promote countless programs:

http://volunteerglobal.com

http://omprakash.org/

http://volunteersouthamerica.net/

I've looked through a lot of the projects going on, and they all seem super fun and engaging. Plus, on the latter website, the thumbnail of the projects give you the price; some are even free! And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how volunteering abroad should be.

crayjay

life is crayjay, as always

but it's going swimmingly

jie is still here. yippeeee

what will i eat when i go to college, away from mama's jiao zi and jie's caramel banana cream pies and thai curry...

josh berger read my palm once and said it was the worst life he had ever seen, to be plagued by global catastrophes, affairs, and a tumultuous love life (which will surely include at least 2 divorces).

i just finished reading Heartburn by Nora Ephron, and it is now one of my favorite books, if not THE favorite. odd as it sounds, i cannot wait until i get married and discover that my husband is cheating so that we can have a huge fight and our lives be filled with drama as friends-but-not-really-friends gossip with each other and i move out with our son and we file for divorce and argue over who gets to take the hamster. and then i'll meet another douchebag who will cheat on me again and we can argue about the furniture. and finally, after my two for-sure divorces that josh has foreseen, i will get to meet my prince charming and he will whisk me away into the sunset and happily ever after we shall live.

ain't life grand?

Hair cut, finally

After years of promising that I would but always chickening out, I’ve finally cut my hair.

I had been planning on doing it since 9^th grade. I kept telling myself that I was waiting for the best time: after Formal, after Prom, after the winter, after my pageant, after the school year ended, etc. etc. etc., but the truth was, I was too scared to. If it had been anyone else, I would have asked, “Scared of what? It’s just hair; it’ll grow back.” However, I found myself in a pit of insecurities. It was only a few days ago that I realized why.

My ex-boyfriend (along with the rest of the world) always told me how beautiful my long, luscious locks were. He had a very specific preference for hair styling, too: side-swept bangs and long, wavy curls. Whenever we went out, he’d ask me to style it that way. And if I ever mentioned the thought of cutting my hair, he’d convince me not to. It wasn’t just him; most of my other friends, as well as my mother, liked me with my long hair. Eventually, I developed this idea that if I didn’t have my long hair, my defining quality, I wouldn’t be pretty anymore, and nobody would like me.

We broke up in January. I thought of chopping off all my hair in defiance, in a show of “I don’t need you anymore” (both my hair and my ex), but I couldn’t do it. I needed it to feel beautiful. Allowing only periodic trims to get rid of split ends, my hair grew longer and longer, to the point of discomfort. There were too many knots and tangles; the showers were too long and used up too much product; the weight of my hair gave me neck pains at times; it had become a burden.

On the night of Friday, October 12, I became victim to a traumatic event, which I am still uncomfortable discussing about. These past couple of months after it happened have been extremely stressful for me, and I think that’s what pushed me over the edge. I finally came to my senses and decided that I don’t give a flying fuck about what everyone thinks of my physical features. I was tired of hiding, of being scared, and of being insecure. I wanted to do this for myself.

Although it just looks like normal person length now, this was a huge step for me. I promise you and myself, I will cut it into a bob some day, but for now, I can pretend I have a bob by showing only my first layer.

after

Top left: before
Top right: after
Bottoms: front layer faux bob

Before & faux bob

Shop Cimily to open soon!

As I mentioned in my last video, I am planning on opening up an online shop/ boutique, in which 100% of the proceeds will be donated toward funding and helping out the Tinkuy Peru Mountain School that I volunteered at this past summer. For now, the money will serve to cover the clothing donation shipment expenses and buy the school a projector and a few other electronic devices that will enable the start of a more advanced educational program. My hope is that the store will eventually grow big enough and be able to generate enough money to donate to other charities as well! ^___^ The website is currently under development, and photo shoots are taking place for the products.

The shop will offer a myriad of apparel and accessories primarily aimed at young women (AKA people like me). All of the items are hand-picked or hand-made by yours truly. Owning and managing my own online shop has always been one of my biggest dreams and aspirations, and being able to marry my fashionista side and my passion for volunteering abroad (basically, my only two interests) is a dream come true. A dream coming true, that is.

Here is a preview from last Saturday's photo shoot with the one and only Hannah P. (click here to visit Hannah's blog!)

I've started a separate blog for the store, so visit http://shopcimily.blogspot.com/ for future updates! :)

OMG OMG OMG

ACT SCORES CAME OUT OMG OMG OMGOGMOASDLFASDFKHASDKFHAKSDFHAKSDFHA






I GOT A 33!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! out of 36!!1 my first time taking it WOOHOOO YESSIREEEEEE

English: 34
Math: 35
Reading: 33
Science: 31 (LOL)


okay now i just have to improve science, mostly. i have to say i am quite elated. i had a terrible headache the entire afternoon but this glorious news just cleared it away. :)))))))

Huancayo Day 22 teachers rant

Teachers all over Peru have gone on strike and are causing much turmoil. Of course, the teachers are rioting because they want higher wages. Not only do I strongly disapprove of such actions from educators, but they are taking extremely unnecessary measures to prevent their students from learning. And for what? For their own greed and self-satisfaction. It's gotten to the point where some teachers are throwing rocks at anyone who dares enter or go near the school. The children here aren't like the ones we see at home. These kids want to go to school. They'd much rather be at school, taking a test, than get beaten at home or forced to do a tremendous amount of chores. For many, school is the only place where they are safe and happy.

How dare these teachers, educators, mentors, role-models for the children refuse the right for such eager students to learn? SMFH. Are they not ashamed of themselves? And what are they going to say in a few months, when the strike is over? "Oh sorry, Johnny, for hitting you with a rock the other day. I just didn't want you to go to school so that I could get some more money. Oh and you don't remember what we did 2 months ago? Oops, my bad for not allowing you to learn anything while I was busy being greedy."

Ugh. They disgust me.


Meanwhile, I'm mostly all packed to leave... I still can't get around the fact that in 7 hours, I'll be on the bus to Lima. And then the airplane to Los Angeles. And then home. I'm anticipating lots of tears at the end of the afternoon classes, on the bus, at the airport, at the other airport, and at home.

Huancayo Day 20 rant + got stalked again

Another prominent topic worthy of discussing here is the matter of domestic violence.

I first encountered this issue during my 2nd week at school. Jasmin, an 8 year old little girl confessed to Samara and me that her uncle often beat his wife and kids with a metal pipe at home. It was difficult to comprehend this information, because I thought it was just so bizarre. I even thought she might be exaggerating, but later I was told that domestic abuse is common here in Peru.

Just a few days ago, Samara told me that as she and Josy were saying good bye to some of the older girls after school, they jokingly teased the girls, "Bye, muchachas, going off to see your boyfriends, hmm?"

Kely, one of the older girls, replied, "No, Miss, I'm never having a boyfriend because boyfriends always beat their girlfriends," in all seriousness.

And that, folks, is the kind of impression that young teenage girls have on relationships.

Furthermore, today, Adele told us the story of Danilo. Danilo is one of the brightest, happiest, and most intelligent kinders at school. He only started coming a few months ago, but within his first few weeks at school, he picked up as much English as any of the other children in the kindergarten, and he is now one of the top students in his class.

His mother brought him to school one day, asking if he could get an education at Tinkuy Peru Mountain School. With a blank and almost suicidal look on her face, she explained that they had just run away from her abusive husband, had no where to stay or sleep, but she wanted Danilo to be able to go to school, at least. She also has at least 2 other children, but we don't know much about them. They came without any paperwork, because her husband wouldn't let her take them, so she and all of the children were document-less and basically, homeless. Of course the school accepted Danilo, and later we found out that the Ministry of Women had taken Danilo's family in, and provided them with mattresses to sleep on.

Domestic violence directly correlates with alcoholism. Adele, Samara, and I worry that our older boys will end up this way, like most of the male population here. We plan on having talks with all of the older kids about responsibility, drug and alcohol awareness, respect, and behavior on Facebook.

7:36 PM update:

One of our mid-aged girls, Yenny, came to school today with a bruise under her eye. It's obvious that someone had hit her, and she tried to hide it while coming into school and while washing her face. When asked who hit her, she claimed to have fallen while playing. Chica, you don't get bruises on your eye when you fall. Not a likely story. I wonder what really happened...

10:42 PM update:

Samara and I went to go get Tres Leches cake and orange juice and totally got stalked AGAIN on the way home. Except this time it was freakier because it wasn't a kid; it was a short, shady-looking man. He started following us from really far away; before the bridge that's before Real Plaza, and we stopped twice to let him pass by, ran stupidly across the street, and kept checking behind us before we realized he was RIGHT behind us again. We stalled a random nice-looking man to make him talk with us and walk a little with us until we got to our neighborhood street to turn in, and the whole time, the creepy man was a few feet away from us. Creepiest feeling ever. It was obvious that he knew we knew he was stalking us. Just like with the other kid. But anyways, when we finally turned into our little street, he stopped following us (thank god) and joined a group of boys. It was so weird. Samara has been here for less than 3 weeks, and this was her 3rd time getting stalked. Great.

Huancayo Day 19

Today was a very relaxed day for us 3 volunteers left.

In the morning, until 12:30 PM, I basically worked on my computer with furthering some ideas for my future project and looking at some different non-profit organizations. I also noticed exactly how dry my skin is. I apply moisturizer and sunscreen to my face multiple times a day, yet I've developed dark patches of dryness all over. It really hurts. ):

At 12:30, we went for our Ceviche Sunday lunch. This time, we got a small portion of ceviche as well as a fried chicken thing. The chicken came with a human hair fried into it. Yum. The man forgot about our lemonade, so wee sat there drinking a litre of lemonade before paying the bill and leaving.

After lunch, Samara and I went to our last Sunday Market, while Adele went to the school to do some cleaning. Tomorrow we plan on lecturing the kids on various topics, because they haven't been acting their best recently, and some of the kids who we're friends with on Facebook made inappropriate comments on our pictures, and we need to let them know that that's not okay. Like I said before, we're planning on handing out clothes to the kids on Wednesday, but we can't do that unless they know that they have to have good behavior, otherwise we'd be rewarding them for bad behavior - not what we're going for.

Anyways, at the Sunday Market, Samara and I encountered the most intriguing thing on display yet. As we passed by it, all I thought was, "Wow that's a really strange stuffed animal to display on the table, but okay."

"Oh my god is that thing alive?!" Samara gasped. I really thought she was crazy or being sarcastic. And then it moved.

It literally looks like R.O.U.S. (Rodent of Unusual Size) from The Princess Bride. It's nocturnal, really slow, looks drunk, drinks chicha de maize (purple drink), and is pretty much repulsive, in my humble opinion. Its owner also informed us that it's the mascot of the University of Toronto. I took a video of it, so I might upload onto Youtube later and become famous for it.

After finishing buying all of our gifts (finally) and going broke, Samara and I treaded back home with our crap to get more money. Since I only brought USD with me, we had to go back to the mall so that I could exchange it for soles, but the annoying thing is that the banks here don't accept bills that have any flaws. No rips, no tears, no random markings. My bills have been rejected several times due to small rips and tears, but this time it was the random markings that deferred them. So I had to borrow money from Samara, and then go buy my bus ticket to Lima.

On Wednesday night, at 11:15 PM, I will be taking a bus from Huancayo to Lima, arriving in Lima at around 7 AM, and then hanging around the airport until my flight at 12:50 PM. Hopefully I'll just make friends with the random travelers around me.

After getting home, chillin', eating dinner, we're now going to go out and get cake. (=
Life here is so good. Wish I could stay here forever.

Some reflections on Huancayo Days 16 + 17 +18

A copious amount of exciting events have happened these past two blogpost-less days, but I wanted to take the time this Saturday morning to explain some things.

I know that in my writings, I haven't really emphasized the environmental and living conditions here. Although all the volunteers, Tino's family, and everyone who lives in the inner city get the comfort of (mostly) paved streets, a 2-story mall (equipped with a movie theater, restaurants, and plenty of stores), electricity, internet, and an over all relatively modern housing, the vast majority of people who live on the outskirts of town are just plain impoverished.

The "Tinkuy" part of the name of Tinkuy Perú Mountain School is Quechua, an indigenous language, meaning a congregation or meeting of people. It stands for the volunteers meeting different volunteers, volunteers meeting children, children meeting children, and this big melting pot of cultures. As I have mentioned in a previous post, the school is located right at the foot of the mountain, at the edge of the city. Because of this, an abundant amount of the students are from impecunious (very poor) families, who live in run-down dirt houses, with 10 people living in the same room. Without electricity, heating, or proper flooring, things are really nasty, especially when it rains. Can you imagine living in mud?

Most of the children as well as the parents don't have a variety of clothes to choose from, either. The kids come to school in the same outfit everyday, with dirtied sleeves, ripped jeans, shirts that are 5 sizes too small, and do not get washed. In fact, some of the kids themselves probably never get washed! Their faces are cracked and dry from the anhydrous Andean climate, and their parents don't care; most of them just don't have access to lotion or cream, and have more important matters to worry about anyway.

The other night, we (the volunteers) were walking back home at around 12 AM from a little cake café. It was freezing cold, and we were all bundled up in layers of sweaters, scarves, legwarmers, and in Adele's case, the Tinkuy Perú tracksuit. From a distance, we could see a group of young boys (probably 4-6 years of age) playing at the side of the mall. "What the hell are they doing at midnight, dressed only in t-shirts at this ungodly hour?!" I thought to myself. As we approached them, it became evident that they were playing some sort of makeshift game of soccer, using their jackets as boundaries for their tiny field, and an empty water bottle as their ball. Squealing, yelling, and laughing, it was obvious that they were having a great time, regardless of the cold or the lack of proper equipment.

"Do their parents not mind?" I wondered aloud, before I had even thought about my question.

"They probably don't even have parents," Josy had to remind me.

The whole way home, I thought about how poor yet happy they seemed, how difficult life must be for them at such a young age, and what would become of them when they got older. I wanted to cry. I realized that the most likely scenario is that they would become a street gang and be those drunkards hanging around corners all day, drinking from 8 AM to whenever the bar closes. You hear stories of these cases all the time and you can't help but wonder, why them? Why does this have to happen to such innocent and charming children? Why must some 4 year olds have to stand for 14 hours a day at the daily market with only a scale and a sad look on their faces, waiting for a generous passerby to come and weigh themselves so that they could collect a few centimos? And yet just a few miles away, other 4 year olds get to play and sing the alphabet at school, happily and obliviously? I don't understand.

Our students love coming to school. They whine and wail when we say there are no classes. They ask if they could come anyways just to play. Our kids are just so nice. It breaks my heart to hear about how even our kids, the older boys at school, are getting into cigarettes and alcohol. They think it's cool because they've never been educated about drugs, and besides, what better things do they have to do?

Even though I know there's not whole lot I can do to change the situation of these people, I'm so glad I can take part in bettering the lives of the students of Tinkuy Perú Mountain School. We teach them English, math, science, and hygiene, play games with them, take them on hikes (though it's more like them taking us on hikes, haha), and give them clothes.

This Wednesday, my last day here, we are going to distribute the clothes that have been donated to us by various volunteers. Last night, Samara, Adele, and I spent about an hour sorting out and assigning clothes to the students, and even though the clothes are all used and some have little stains or tears on them, I know that they will love every article of clothing, and I'm so excited to see the looks on their faces. 

When I get home, I'm going to create a Facebook event or something, asking for clothing donations. I'll start a clothing drive at school and I am be more than willing to pay the $200 shipping cost, if it means giving the children some sort of happiness, which I know it will. I love them so much. I already know that I'll be coming back next summer. I've ranted and worried for a long time that I never felt truly passionate about anything, that I've never had specific goal in life, or a motivating factor. And now I do. I feel like this is turning into something bigger than anything I had imagined and it's absolutely thrilling. 

I am happy to say that I have been changed for good. 

Huancayo Day 15

I've probably already said this in another post, but today was the best day of my entire existence.

Since I'm so superlatively exhausted, like I usually am by the end of the day here, I will merely attempt to sum up the extraordinaries of today:

Morning:
-Planned on taking a hike with a bunch of the kids (whoever wanted to come) to Torre Torre, this cool reddish rock formation in the mountains near school.
-Changed our plans and decided to hike up to a waterfall instead, with the kids as our tour guides.
-Took FOREVER to get there. Was one of the most tiring, dangerous, and thrilling hikes I've ever experienced.
-My heart smiled because of how cute the kids were, especially the older boys. It's funny how I call them kids when they're only a year or two younger than I am. Abel, Brayan, and Justi all held our the Misses' hands to help us over the river rocks and were just so gentlemen-like. Ahhhh wanted to die from seeing the cuteness. Totally have a crush on all of them.

Afternoon:
-Went back to school at 2 PM for Day 2 and final day of the Olympic games.
-GUESSSS WHOOOO WON?!?!?1? THAT'S RIGHT, MY TEAM, TEAM SOUTH KOREA WOOHOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!! So freaking proud of my bebes. Ugh totally going to be a soccer mom when I grow up. My kids are just the best in the world.

Evening:
-Got empanadas at this one bakery. So yummy.
-Went shopping for food and supplies for tomorrows' closing ceremony.
-Came home, ate one of my favorite meals (the egg and sausage and fried banana), and made fail sushi for tomorrow.



SO FREAKING EXCITED FOR TOMORROW EEEEEK. On a sadder note, tomorrow is Josy & Cody's last day. I was talking to Cody about it, and it's likely that we'll never see each other again in our lifetimes. Time to sing "For Good" to each other from Wicked.