Vero Perez

[veroperezblogs]

I’m pretty good at writing. And before you go scrutinizing every single word I write from here on, just know that I’m good at academic writing— meaning that I actually enjoy writing essays for class (how wild). If I know enough about a topic, I find it almost intuitive to synthesize all the information into some sort of analysis that helps me answer a research question. Obviously, it takes a lot of time and effort to come to such an understanding of a subject, but once I feel like I have a good grasp on it writing the paper just comes naturally.

Many people think that being able to write well is something you’re born with. However, I strongly believe that it was my obsession with young adult fiction in my middle school and high school years that helped me develop my writing skills. I would read 5 to 8 books a month, and after consuming all those words I came to understand how authors manipulated them to communicate very specific messages. I discovered how important it is to find the right word even if it takes you hours, and how to make your voice stand out even when writing about something as objective and insipid as the history of concrete. To me, there’s nothing more pleasing than reading something I’ve written and being completely satisfied with it. It might take just about a million re-reads and maybe a couple hundred re-writes, but it is so worth it when the final product is exactly what I want it to be. I pride myself in my writing more than anything else, and I truly believe that my communication skills will be crucial to my success in any field I decide to dedicate myself to.

[veroperezblogs]

“Maria?” Says the customs officer at the airport. My two sisters and I all smile awkwardly as we mumble in unison, “which one?”

That’s right. All of our first names are Maria, which is why we go by our middle names instead. It’s not uncommon for this to happen in Venezuela— where I’m from— but in the States middle names aren’t even included in class rosters. So I moved here and I became just Maria Perez, sister of Maria Perez and Maria Perez. This was especially fun when we all went to the same high school and they called “Maria Perez” down to the office over the intercom. I’ve gotten used to it though, and I never correct anyone unless they ask my preference. Still, all my friends call me Veronica and find it weirdly comical when people refer to me as Maria.

It all started with my oldest sister. My devoutly Catholic parents named her Maria Fernanda after the Virgin Mary (and because just Fernanda isn’t dramatic enough). My other sister who is also older than me was named Maria because she was born on September 12— 4 days after the feast of the Nativity of Mary. To my parents, it was a sign she was to be named Maria as well. When I came along a couple of years after, my parents decided to call me Maria because... well, why not?

Funnily enough, my mom would always tell the three of us not to let anyone call us just Maria. “Your name,” she would say to me, “is Maria Veronica— not Maria, not Veronica.” Can you blame me for growing to avoid it? Now, I only use the name when talking to someone I will probably never be close to like professors and Starbucks baristas.

Even so, I’ve come to treasure the name Maria as a connection to my Hispanic heritage. Don’t get me wrong— I still dislike it. But it ties me to my roots and helps keep me grounded.

I don’t know whether I’ll ever have kids. If I do, however, I plan on naming them something that links them to their origins. So sure, I’d rather people call me Veronica. But my first name is a really big part of my identity— one that serves as a constant reminder of my beloved family and the home country I miss so dearly.

[veroperezblogs]

Selling this lightly used, very rebellious steel captive ring! Her name is Susan, and she was my loyal septum piercing for a whole 20 hours.

I got her on October 20th, 2018, in a place called Identity Piercings in Chicago. My friend went there to get her cartilage pierced and asked me to tag along. Little did I know that I’d be getting a piercing of my own, much less a septum one. But there I was, looking at all the rings in the counter display when I saw Susan - so simple, so inviting, so reminiscent of my cringe-worthy teenage emo days. I couldn’t help it. I immediately told the piercer that I wanted it without thinking of the pain or the price for even a split second, which says a lot given that I am both a wimp and on a budget. Still, when I saw the end product I immediately thought of how right Susan- as I had decided to call my piercing- looked hanging from my nose.

We had the most wonderful day together: just three girls walking through the Chicago streets, eating deep dish and pretending that we were in Ferris Bueller’s Day Off. She even came with me on the flight back home. Suddenly, I didn’t hate every picture of me and people stopped treating me like I was 12. Susan made me feel confident and like I was finally myself, and I wanted her to be with me forever. She, however, had other plans.

As soon as I got to Miami the day after I got her, my nose began to hurt badly. I decided to head to a trusted piercer so they could make sure everything was in order. It wasn’t. Long story short, I had to retire Susan. Even though the piercer told me my nose just rejected the ring, I am convinced it was her who rejected me. See, I’ve had my ears pierced 6 times and all of them have healed much quicker than others’ piercings do. But Susan never did.

This stubborn ring is perfect for you if you’re looking for a life-changing 20 hours in which you’ll feel powerful, confident, and attractive, quickly followed by intense physical and emotional pain once Susan decides you’re not good enough for her.

Disclaimer - the following might also occur when wearing Susan:

- Being disowned by your parents

- Receiving countless judgmental looks from relatives

- Having friends moo at you because they say you look like cattle

- An inclination to say things like “I got it at goodwill for $1.99,” and “is this vegan?”

Price: $65

[veroperezblogs]

When my mom asked me what I wanted for my 17th birthday, I just told her to surprise me.

This was certainly a surprise.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but it definitely wasn’t a glass ball filled with tiny shrimp. Her excitement as I opened the gift only confused me even more, because what on earth could be so cool about… whatever that was? She must have seen my puzzled expression, because she immediately began to explain her reasoning behind thinking — “Ah, yes. I know what my daughter would like for her birthday: a ball with shrimp in it.”

This glass sphere, she told me, is called the Ecosphere, and it has 8 incredibly tiny shrimp inside of it along with algae, bacteria and other microorganisms, a fake sea fan, decorative shells, and lightweight gravel. Because it can’t be opened in any way, the Ecosphere runs on energy. Indirect light and carbon dioxide in the water — mainly given off by the shrimp and the bacteria — enable the algae to produce oxygen. The shrimp then breathe it in and eat the algae as well as bacteria in the water. Meanwhile, the bacteria break down the shrimps’ waste into nutrients that the algae uses to grow. Now, tell me that isn’t cool. It’s a self-sustaining ecosystem! The coolest thing is that the idea came from two scientists and was further developed by NASA, who saw it as an opportunity to study the Earth’s biosphere and to conduct research on the construction of space stations to explore our solar system. In the simplest terms, this sphere represents our planet on a tiny scale: we are the little shrimp, forever as dependent on the organisms around us as they are on us. But maybe the absolutely coolest part is that I can’t forget to feed or water it. I have killed many plants and fish in my days, but the Ecosphere is so low-maintenance not even I could manage to kill it (hopefully).

I don’t care that most of my friends look at me weird for being sort of obsessed with Jacques — as I lovingly call all the shrimp after the character in Finding Nemo. Now, the Ecosphere sits proudly in my bookshelf as the little shrimp swim happily in their glass home.

[veroperezblogs]

The “I’m not trying” look is considered very cool right now. In fact, make up tutorials and fashion lookbooks often brag about how they make it seem like you didn’t just spend 45 minutes on each eyebrow or an hour getting the perfect messy bun. This is why I love my plain black and completely unassuming sunglasses so much. They look like I was on vacation and left my own pair at home, so I just went into a random store and bought the first cheap pair that I saw. In fact, that’s exactly what happened. I spent a whole $5 on them, and after realizing how freeing it was to own sunglasses you could just throw around, I swore I’d never spend more than 10 bucks on them ever again. I’ve scratched them, I’ve sat on them, and I put them face down on the table (I know, how atrocious) without giving it a thought. Besides, they give me the “I’m not trying” look that people pay way too much for nowadays for only $5. So while others spend time and money trying really hard to seem like they’re not trying, I’m here chilling with my cheap sunglasses— not having to pay anything to seem like I tried because I didn’t.