Search This Blog

Saturday, 24 August 2013

It appears my unconscious has a better mind than me

Don't remember much about my dream from last night, and it's not only because it's so late to only just now write about it. I didn't remember more when I first woke up, promise. Why do I feel like I owe it to you to tell you something I don't remember...?

The dream. The dream in question is one where I'm in the set for a reality show about models. The fashion photographer (a woman, if it's worth pointing out) really liked my look and she asked me to pose lying down on my side (legs a little bent, head propped up on my hand, looking at the camera through sleepy eyes). I fumbled about with my glasses, fully aware of how foolish I must have looked, wondering even as I was being photographed if this silly photographer didn't realise I had so many imperfections models aren't supposed to have. She was thrilled, though, and was convinced that if she could get a good picture of me then and there, I could easily prove myself as better than all the other models in the show. It would appear she was right, because I then remember telling my chemist acquaintance (why her? I'll never know...) about it through chat and it seemed unbelievable even then. 

So... I'm ugly, except when someone in my dreams tells me I'm actually stunning and then I suddenly think I might look all right after all. Go figure.

Unrelated: racism. Aunt A made a remark today about some black person with beautiful features. I told her beautiful and ugly people came in all colours. She insisted because the underlying idea behind her remark was that black people are somehow inherently ugly and thus it's worthwhile pointing out the ones with Greek/Roman statue features and light coloured eyes. She used this as a chance to show off how much she knows about black people because she lived in an area where they're a majority and someone explained to her that they're not all alike because in different parts of Africa lived different types of black people... the same way in different parts of Europe lived different types of white people. At this point I stopped talking because to call her a racist would have just opened a nasty can of worms. 

Also unrelated, but it's getting on my nerves: why is it that Americans can't tell the difference between being Hispanic and being a certain race? Hispanic is not a race. Hispanic means you belong to a culture of Spanish speaking people. Ignorance thinks Latino always looks a certain way and it's just wrong. Especially because the Spaniards got mixed with the natives and the slaves and virtually all Latinamericans are a heterogeneous mixture of the three, it's downright stupid trying to pin you down anywhere. Also, being Hispanic does not make you Spanish. You are only Spanish if you call Spain your home country and even then you probably only consider yourself Spanish if you're from the Madrid area. Even if you're mostly white (i.e. your ancestors are mostly pirates) you are not actually Spanish. There's no such thing as being Spanish and 100% white, I daresay, because the Spanish were already such an odd mixture of moors (read: Arabs), gypsies (read: Indian people), gauls, celts... In this day and age, not all people marry and have children within their race, so these stupid boxes they try to put you in make ever less sense...

No comments:

Post a Comment