What it Means

A friend of mine suggested I write about what it's like--what it means--to be mentally ill and in political science. So here goes.

It means that the complexity and the importance of my field will often overwhelm me, making it hard to focus or think deeply enough about it to do good analysis. I'll shut down and be turned off from politics altogether for a while. It's not because I'm not smart enough or because I don't care. My emotions just won't let me think.

It means that my assignments and class discussions involve a lot of this kind of analysis, and it's really hard for me to keep up. It makes me feel dumb.

It means I've more or less given up on running for office, which had been my original goal. I have a very long way to go before I could handle that kind of stress.

 It means that I feel at a constant disadvantage against my brilliant friends and classmates who are going to have stellar careers and make large impacts, while my own ambitions have diminished so far as to consider not going to grad school.

But it also means that I'm learning how to help make things better for people with sicknesses like mine.

It means that my brilliant friends and classmates and professors are open-minded, understanding, and supportive.

It means that any success I have in my field will help to eliminate the stigma associated with depression and anxiety disorders.

It means that the fact I'll have a degree in the first place will mean that much more.

Weekend Edition: Nearer, My God, to Thee
I was busy having a life for once this weekend, so I didn't post songs. Since it's the Sabbath, though, I think I'll put up one of my favorite hymns. (Still a capella, of course.)

In other news, it's Ronald Reagan's 100th Birthday.

While it would be wonderful to have someone like him run America again, it's a tough thing to approach. Do it right, and you've accomplished a miracle. Do it wrong and you've got the Tea Party.

 (There was a float dedicated to him at this year's Rose Parade.)

What's the Word for When You're Opinionated in a Good Way?

I'm taking a journalism class this semester. Today we had a discussion about the core principles of what defines journalism. We briefly talked about how journalists should keep their opinions to themselves, and some don't even vote to try to stay unbiased. As a political science major, that hurt my soul a little bit. 

I have a lot of opinions and I enjoy discussing and sharing them. I could more easily become a Catholic nun than keep them to myself as part of a full-time job. It made me kind of glad that it's only a cluster (half a minor), but this will definitely be my most challenging class this semester. As much as I like it, I have a hard enough time writing in general, but long impartial news stories? It's a daunting task and I'm terrified of it. 

But I suppose college is about stepping outside your comfort zone to grow and stretch and become better at something you enjoy. So I will, for these few classes, set aside my tendency to make quick judgement calls and unhealthy desire to always be right for the sake of journalistic integrity. Then I can go back to my major and argue ideology and policy to my little heart's content. 

"Spinster" is a funny word.

Occasionally, my young relatives ask me why I'm single, and I have no good answer for them. Next time I'll tell them it's because being a spinster gives you superpowers. I even have evidence!

Condoleezza Rice, former Secretary of State

Jane Austen, Author

Elizabeth I

Joan of Arc

Fun fact: I'm totally procrastinating right now.

Things You Probably Already Knew But I'm Going to Tell You Anyway.

1. The new blog name comes from a rarely used nickname of mine: Batgirl. My initials are BAT, so it's all logic from there.

2. I am not  a natural redhead.

February 2006, a few months before I dyed it for the first time.

But I like to play with it.

This is me as of today. It looks brown in this picture, but it's actually more like this.

3. I've always hated USC.

4. This is the first year I haven't gone to Girls Camp since 2002. And I'm okay with that.

5. I know more about how elections work than the 35-ish looking guy I saw at the polling place last week. (I voted for the first time. :D ) He was registered Democrat and asked the little old polling lady why Meg Whitman wasn't on his ballot. I stayed quiet while the LOPL gave a poor explanation of primaries, which probably led him to believe that this is the only time you can vote for governor. Poor guy. Well, since Whitman won the Republican primary (take that, Dad!) he can vote for her in November (unless he likes Jerry Brown better.)

Rainbow High

I made my family watch Evita with me last night. There were awesome songs that weren't on the soundtrack my family's had since the movie first came out...so I did some research on iTunes and found the COMPLETE soundtrack. Right down to people yelling in the movie theater at the beginning. When there's almost no spoken dialogue in a movie, you might as well put the whole thing on the soundtrack, right? Right. Madonna was a great casting choice.

So besides the incredible music, I love Evita because Eva Perón was a fascinating person. She's not an ordinary Cinderella story at all. You can't put her into just one category. In Evita, her husband Juan is given the line "she is a diamond."  She was more than just an actress, a philanthropist, a politician, a woman of questionable chastity. She's certainly not the saint Argentina believed her to be. She was tough as diamonds, but not as durable. I agree with her own description of herself: "I am a rainbow." She was colorful, larger than life, not what she seemed, and fleeting. (She only lived to be 33.) I'm going to do a little more research to find out more about who she really was. I told a friend a condensed version of my quest: I'm trying to figure out whether she was a dumb gold digger who was brainwashed into being her husband's puppet or a brilliant gold digger who knew exactly how to get into power.

Thank Goodness for the First Amendment.

Hey there, Federal Government.

Do you have a problem with my being born?

I think you do. I've had the same birthday for the past 18.5 years. It says so on my passport. It says so on the birth certificate that you never sent back to me when I got my passport.

What the heck kind of birthday do you think I have if I can't file my taxes with it?

You're lucky my political ambitions pretty much end in Sacramento.

Scatterbrain

I'd really like to see (500) Days of Summer.

Yesterday I made a Nutella and bacon sandwich using Eggo waffles instead of bread. It was delicious.

Then today I found a recipe for Candied Bacon Ice Cream. Something may be wrong here.

photo courtesy of the Telegraph

Look at this dress. It has special pockets for markers to create the colored pattern. How clever! 

I'm tempted to not go to my American government class on Tuesday because I know something more horribly sexist than usual will happen in the name of an object lesson.

50% of Haitians agree with Pat Robertson about the deal with the devil thing.

Mari Winsor is officially my arch-nemesis.

Barbershop or Jazz?

"I have a Fifth Sense. It's like I have ESPN or Something."

You know what I don't understand? Girls.

Not the way my brother Dallin* doesn't understand them. More like the way Lindsay Lohan doesn't understand them at the beginning of Mean Girls. I grew up with all brothers and mostly guy cousins and lots of guy friends and smart girlfriends. I can only think of two major instances of drama since 7th grade--one caused by a crazy "friend" and the other by a mom who jumped to her own conclusions about my motives. I did my best to handle it maturely and things were worked out in a timely manner. But I've recently become aware of some sort of secret girl code involving the rules of drama and crap like that. And apparently I've broken some recently.

Personally, I think it's pretty much the dumbest thing in the world. That whole culture is based on the assumption that every other girl is a petty slut. I'm glad I don't speak Girl. I'd rather speak Woman. Or Audrey Hepburn.

*A worse sister would include a picture from his first date last month. But that's Mom's job.

Not all of us are Nancies, Sarahs, and Hillaries.

A new semester has begun, and I am totally excited about it. I'm finally at work on some political science classes! (That's my major, in case you didn't know.)

But something I noticed in my American Government class is a mostly guys. I don't know how that reflects for everyone studying poli sci, but my gut says that there aren't a whole lot of us ladies. But I totally get that. It's not interesting to a lot of people (sad day) and no one wants to draw the comparisons to Sarah Palin (dumb) or Hillary Clinton (soulless).

I think that my being a girl has a lot to do with how people react when I tell them my major. (Yes, a girl. The law says I'm a woman, but I still have a whole lot of growing up to do.) I've noticed that there are about six main reactions I get from people.

1. Fear -- Only seen in the eyes of weak men. "That sounds smart..."
2. Surprise-- People who don't know me well peg me as a music or English major."Oh, what made you want to choose that?"
3. Douchebaggery-- Jerks think that there is no way in this universe that I could snag the dream job--Governator.* "You know you're a woman, right?"
4. Camaraderie-- "Hey, me too! What's your emphasis?" (American Government)
5. Excitement -- The rarest. "I would totally vote for you!"
6. Some people are tactful enough to cover up what they're really thinking--probably #2 or #3.  Either that or they just don't care. "Oh, that's cool."

*It's very unlikely, but you don't just bash someone's dream job like that!
 

To end, I'm changing the subject to this amazing picture. My youngest brother Noah was baptized on Saturday by my oldest (but still younger) brother Dallin. How neat is that?

Little Hypocrisies (And Some Big Ones)

This post is a bunch of confessions. You've been warned.

"A girl needs to have SOME glaring contradictions in her life."

~Hannelore from "Questionable Content"

I like to say I'm honest, but I also want to be a politician someday. And yesterday I illegally downloaded "Mozart L'Opéra Rock" after iTunes France wouldn't let me buy it.

I like to say that I'll sleep when I'm dead or that sleep is for the weak, but I'm so tired all the time.

I like to say I'm a good person, but I did my visiting teaching for the first time today, with three days left in the semester.

I like to say I'm mature, but Mr. Roosevelt came with me to college.

I like to say it's only cold if you can see your breath, but I start to shiver when it's colder than 50º F.

I claim to aspire to Audrey Hepburn-status classiness, but I'm known around UHS for my racist jokes.

I eat nothing but junk food but weigh 119.

I do less work and have a higher GPA here than I did in high school.

I don't believe in love at first sight, but my favorite song by The Beatles is "I've Just Seen a Face."

ATTENTION

My life is generally a drama-free zone. When y'all have YOUR drama, I will remain neutral under all but the most dire circumstances. Especially since more often than not, everyone involved is at fault.

I've done this before and I'm prepared to do it again. Go ahead and vent. I'll listen. But don't expect me to take your side. I'm everyone's friend.

A Minor Setback

Before I can begin, I must apologize for the horrible pun in the title.

I can't pick a minor. I'd been planning on journalism at the beginning of this semester, broadcast a week ago, and now I really don't know.

But it's all good. I've got a good schedule for next semester that covers general ed foundations and my major requirements. (At least I'm sure about my major. I almost died of happiness when we talked about the Constitution and government in Book of Mormon class today.)

In other news, I'll be home in 4 days! Huzzah for Thanksgiving!

BREAKING NEWS: these are Candy Corn Kisses from Hershey's. They are perfect and they are making my day.

Awkward!

I was shocked to learn today that the mayor of Los
Angeles, Tony Villar (stage name Antonio Villaraigosa) is one of President Obama's financial advisors! What the heck, Barack?! Villar is not only a complete idiot, but he has done nothing to help benefit Los Angeles. He's only there to get his mug on the TV and I doubt that he'll be ANY help. However, this picture made me bust up.

Halloween & My Voting Guide

Halloween was pretty bomb, you guys. The day before, my friend Crystal and I painted faces at Sierra Vista Elementary's Family Fun Night. WE painted each other's faces before we started, and we used our arms to wipe off the excess paint...



That night, I changed my mind about my costume. I had been planning to be Sarah Palin, but I was too lazy to get up to poof my hair. So, I wore jean, high heels, and Dallin's Scout shirt! No, I wasn't a boy who scouts. I was a girl who scouts for boys. ;D
That's me and Andrea the gypsy running the cupcake walk at the ward trunk-or-treat.



After the trunk-or-treat, Andrea and I kinda drifted between my house and hers and hung out until midnight. We had a great time.

Well, we're TWO days away from a big election. And I love politics and care about what's going on in the world. Even though this is so, I'm not old enough to vote. =[ If I could, this is how I'd vote:
President: John McCain (the least worst)
Prop 1A: NO
Prop 2: YES
Prop 3: NO
Prop 4: YES
Prop5: NO
Prop 6: YES
Prop 7: NO
Prop 8: YES
Prop 9: YES
Prop 10: NO
Prop 11: YES
Prop 12: NO

Five Weeks Down

Needless to say, school's been busy. As previously mentioned, I have three AP classes and I'm still working at Baskin-Robbins. In just five weeks, I've been able to:

• Make new friends and get closer to people I already knew.


• Not fall asleep in class (except for that one time in Seminary and that one time in Stats).


• Get sick, get behind, get better, then catch back up (- not fun).


• Write Dallin notes on our French teacher's whiteboard (I have her for AP French 3rd period, he has her 5th for French II.)


• Go on a picnic.


• Get lunch at Fresh & Easy a few times a week. (It's like Trader Joe's for hippies)


• Get on my Stats teacher's bad side (I think.)


• Get even more on my French teacher's good side.


• Be simulataneously entertained, degraded, and weirded out by my English teacher.


• Actually enjoy said English class.


• Not die in AP Bio. The subject matter's boring so far, and the way my teacher presents it doesn't help.


• Not die in Government. I already know a lot of what's being taught! Luckily, I sit with a bunch of cool kids and we spend the whole time talking about Homecoming.


• Try and figure out how the heck I'm going to pay for tour this year. Choir's going to New York City from February 26th to March 3rd. We'll be performing in CARNEGIE HALL on March 1st and St. Paul's Cathedral on March 2nd. I'm really excited.


• Be bombarded with letters from a schools I probably won't go to. (By the way, Mom, I'm not going to apply for St. John's. Still debating APU, though)(Don't worry,the rest of you! BYU's been at the top of my list since I learned what college was)


• Deep clean my sty (pardon me, bedroom) so that it's suitable for living - Marleen's coming back to visit on WEDNESDAY!!!!!! She'll be here for two weeks, and she's coming to the Homecoming dance on Saturday with my group.


• Laugh my head off at this awesome SNL skit:

• Be absolutely and perfectly happy.