My Social Attitude Test Results

I took a fun quiz tonight that gave me some interesting insights into how I approach politics. It was really quick and easy, and I encourage everyone to give it a whirl. You won't regret it.

Here's the link:

http://slackhalla.org/~demise/test/socialattitude.php

Here are my results: 

Progressivism  95

Socialism  62.5

Tenderness  65.625

Your test scores indicate that you are a tender-minded ultra-progressive; this is the political profile one might associate with a university professor. It appears that you are tolerant towards religion, and have a generally optimistic attitude towards humanity in general.

Your attitudes towards economics appear socialist, and combined with your social attitudes this creates the picture of someone who would generally be described as a liberal. 

To round out the picture you appear to be, political preference aside, a kind-hearted pragmatist with several strong convictions.

Liberated

I feel safe with him.

I feel free from

Fear and

Judgement and

Loneliness

I can trust him.

He sees me for who I am

And he likes it.

I feel liberated from 

expectations and

pain and

perfection.

I could ask for nothing better than him.

I adore him, 

And I think I may even come to love him.

Lesson of the day: Avoid Eye Contact at ALL Costs.

Funny story.

I was doing a presentation in AP Government a few days ago about Interest Groups and Issue Advocacy Ads. Theres this guy in the class who is not only intelligent but gorgeous and super sweet. Of course I, like every other girl in the class, have developed a bit of a massive crush on him. Anyway, I was going my presentation and scanning the audience, and he was staring at me when I look at him, and out eyes locked and I completely froze up. I actually stopped mid-sentence and started stumbling over words and mispronouncing everything. Naturally, I turned tomato-red and I haven't been able to look at him since. 

Ugh. So embarrassed. 

I wish that they would teach a course in high school about how to flirt and talk to people, because Lord knows I could sure use it. I don't know what happens to me, but everytime I start talking to someone I'm even mildly fond of, all my intelligence flies away and I'm left blubbering like a bloody 5th grade boy talking to a girl with boobs for the first time. It's ridiculous. 

I'll walk up to him during lunch to talk to him, and about 5 feet away I start to freak out and I turn and literally run the opposite direction. I think maybe if my parents had let me date before I was 16, I might have an easier time with all this silliness, but alas. 

I am the nerdy, outspoken theatre geek who can't seem to muster up enough courage to say hello to an extremely sweet and funny guy. 

Exciting things happening:

• Thanksgiving break is next week!

• I actually did my physics homework.

• I'm taking online Financial Lit, and it may be the single easiest class I've taken.

• Apparently I'm just like Elizabeth Bennet. Everyone says so, but seeing as I haven't finished the book, I'm not sure yet. We shall see. 

The Renaissance (wo)Man

Today I was told that I totally have the potencial to write a book. Like,  an actual, real book. That people would pay me for. Woah. I do really want that to happen, so I'm determined to work on writing more often than I do. Hopefully this'll work out. 

I have this nasty habit of not finishing anything I start, so the very concept of writing an entire book is daunting to say the least. I think, perhaps, if I can just get into the habit of writing daily, I may be able to become successful. Maybe. 

When I was a kid, I always dreamed of being an author, but as I grew older I became more cynical. The odds of becoming a successful, published author are next to zero. But as I've gotten older, I've also become considerably more apt at writing. Maybe this could actually happen?

Sometimes I think that I have too many interests, and I struggle terribly with the idea of settling on just one thing.

 I'm a senior in high school, and all these colleges have been pestering me with endless junk mail and infinite emails, all begging me to 1. Apply for their college and 2. Settle on a major. This scares meto death. I mean, currently I am highly interested in: sexology, politics, government, lobbying, writing, teaching, acting, singing, and designing. Most people just tell me to pick the one thing I love most, but the dillema comes in where I love them all almost equally. They obviously have polar differences, but the trouble is that I love the variety between all the subjects. 

Take for example, design and politics. Today in AP Goverment I was giving a presentation all about lobbying, and I had come to issue advocacy ads. I had slipped some examples of issue advocacy ads into my prezi, and once I was up in front of everyone, I started explaining why the adverts were brilliant, and which design element left an impact on the audience. The two subjects have practically nothing to do with each other, but I love them both, and it's facinating to see them colide all around me. 

That's the coolest thing about learning: seeing all the subjects crash into one another and observing the relationships between everything. 

Leonardo DaVinci, for instance, is the prime example of a well rounded student. This man was an artist, an inventor, a scientist, and a whole myriad of other things we probably don't even know about. 

I want to be a Renaissance (wo)man. And it's rough to have all these organizations demanding me to settle on the one thing I want to do for the next 60+ years of my life. This may not be an issue for other people, but I don't think I'll ever be able to settle on one thing.

So, that's where I am today. 

Exciting things happening:

• I got cast as Belle in Beauty and the Beast

• Won Sterling Scholar in English (at the school level)

• Working on a monologue from "Night Mother" for Theatre

• Working on my senior thesis on Feminism and Femininity

• Attempting to catch a ridiculously gorgeous and disgustingly intelligent guy in my government class. ( wish me luck)

• Hit 122 followers on tumblr. Whoo!! (I know it's not a lot, but hey. For a girl sitting at 86 for 9 months, it's pretty great).

• Graduating in exactly 28 weeks

• Got accepted to SUU

• Got a business plan all ready for a school business event.

• My brother, David, is coming home for Thanksgiving. I haven't seen him in over 6 months, so I'm thrilled. He should be here the 26th. 

At the Airport

In case you didn't know, I'm going on a trip to Edinburgh Scotland for the fringe festival. The fringe is a theatre thingy, so.. Whoop! Anywho, we a taking a flight to Boston and then transferring over for a flight to London. I've been really tense about the trip, as not only have I never traveled very far out of the state, I have never been on an airplane or out of the country. I'd been freaked out because of all the bad rap about airports from media. I'd envisioned getting stuck in a situation similar to that of Tom Hanks in his film The Terminal. I'd imaged getting patted down, arrested, put into custody, losing my luggage, etc, etc. Ive been pretty convinced that at least one (if not all) of the improbable things to happen in an airport would happen to me. 

With the exception of one horrifying moment, the experience has been okay. It's loud and busy and not exactly on the top of my list of places to be, but it's also not on the bottom. There is free wifi, which even if every other bad thing that could happen happened satisfies me. Lord knows I would die sans Internet. 

As aforementioned, there was one bad experience. At the first stop at the airport, I just about died (and not due to the 20 minutes living without Internet). It was the first time I has ever stepped foot into an airplane, and as I have already explained I was nervous. I walked up to the check counter so I could check my luggage. I handed the lady my passport and the boarding slips and the luggage. To my great relief, my baggage weighed only 39 lbs. However, just as I breathed a sigh of relief the lady turned and looked and me with the most serious look on her face. " I am so sorry. Your passport isn't valid..."

My breath caught in my throat, and I could feel another batch of tears and yet another panic attack coming on. After what felt like an eternity, she continued the sentence I assumed has ended.

"... Without a signature." 

My passport had been stored in a safe since the day it arrived in the mail, so I had not had time to sign it. Thankfully, the lady (probably laughing at me because I swear she paused purposefully) handed me a pen. Thank god. 

Hopefully no more traumatic experiences ensue, though I'm pretty sure flying will be scary. I've researched all about airplanes and how they fly. Turns out, airplanes want to fly. Who knew? And even if we crash on a desert island that doesn't actually exist, I will at least be surrounded by astoundingly attractive people (save a large, friendly man with a Walkman). 

Holly & Shirley

In summer of 2008, 6 of my relatives died within 2 months. I attended a lot of funerals that summer. The one that sticks with me the most is my cousin Holly’s. She was 2 years old when she was hit by a truck. They shipped her off to the hospital, but it was too late. She was brain-dead. They donated her organs, and I drove down to California to attend the funeral.

            They had one of those tiny baby coffins, which are somehow a hundred times worse than an adult coffin. They buried her in a dress that matched her favourite doll, which was also buried with her. Her mother cut off all her hair the day before and set a lock of it in the coffin. Holly looked plastic—very similar to her doll in that way.

            All the cousins were supposed to stand up at her funeral and sing some church song. I was crying to hard to even get a word out. It’s not like I knew her very well. We live very far away, and so I never got to interact with her much. The thing that got me was how young she was, she hadn’t even lived yet. And the look on her father’s face. He looked like he was missing something. At the burial site, they played the bagpipes.

        My grandmother died the same year, only a week or two before Holly did. She died of MS, which she had been fighting her entire life. She had been bedridden for most of my life. She used to stare out the window and watch the birds. Grandpa put up hummingbird feeders and bird baths and the such to attract the animals. She used to love to watch the hummingbirds. I don’t remember much about her funeral. My dad cried, which was painful for me because I had never see him cry before. (To date, I have only seen him cry 2 times. Once at his mother’s funeral, and again at his father’s). The coffin was decorated with hummingbirds, and there were flowers everywhere. It was beautiful. She would have liked it. We sang God Be With You ‘Til We Meet Again. I still cry when I sing that song. 

Lessons Learned

I've been to hell and back.

What I do is constantly look for the good stuff. It's often tiny things, like the sunshine or a bird in the morning. It's cliche and everything, but it's true. Life just keeps going. There are ups, and there are downs, and you just have to learn to get through the dark times by looking forward to the happy things.

I mean. Things now are a hell of a lot better for me than they were. But there are still a lot of bad things in my life. The difference is that now, I'm focusing more on the things that make me happy. Things will never stop being hard. That's life.

There are easy hard times and hard hard times. And you just have to learn to go with it. Fighting it has never done anyone any good. Do you know what I mean?

Learn to be at peace with it all, and things will get easier.

The Emperor Wolf

This summer, I get the opportunity to go to Scotland for an international theatre competition. Being as hipster as we are, the small theatre troupe going decided that rather than doing a mainstream, pre-written play, we would hire an author to write us a script. Specially written for us!!
Rather exciting, I know. But what's more exciting is that this week we have started a cold read of draft one, and it's going very, very well.
The play, (titled "the emperor wolf") is set in an apocalyptic future, where wolves have joined the mythological animal class, along with griffins, sphinxes, et cetera. Due to the apocalyptic nature of the milieu of the play, books, spices, television, and everything else pedestrian has become a rarity. I really like this aspect of the play, as I feel it helps illuminate the privileges we have, and how lucky we really are.
Probably my favorite part of the script is the pop-culture references. In one memorable scene, the male lead (Shasta) is telling the female lead, (Madeline) about a book about a " funny looking man, with a ring.." And, "a long road made out of yellow brick". There are a handful more references, but those are the most memorable (for me, at least).
I'm ecstatic about the trip as well as he script, and I cannot wait for the second draft!

More to come on Scotland and the competition.

Past + Future

I always get really frustrated when people ask me a lot of questions, like "What's wrong", or "Are you okay". It's not so much the sentiment that bothers me, but rather that I feel pressured to answer, often when I would much rather not. It's hard for me to find an adequate answer that'll get off my back. "I'm fine" prompts the whole, "no your not tell me tell me tell me", while telling the truth makes them feel bad for you, and then you somehow start to feel guilty because of the way you feel, and completely unloading is even worse.
If there's something that I lie about practically every day, it's the answering the "Are you okay" question. I have never found an answer that'll make them happy, and make them leave you alone, while also not making me feel even worse.
Additionally, I'm getting tired of always feeling crappy. I'm sick most of the time, and perpetually exhausted, and I'm hurting virtually all the time. I just want to be healthy, and happy. But I cannot even remember what it's like to be happy. I'm not completely sure that I ever have felt completely happy. For as long as I can remember, I've isolated myself and found myself feeling deeply pained and hurt about... what?
Even as a little kid, I used to sit in my bedroom, away from everyone else, and think, " I really don't want to be here." and I never even identified as that being.. different? I couldn't even say what it was. I was suicidal before I even understood what death even was.
I feel like my life has been pretty much the same thing over and over again. Feeling crappy, pretending I'm fine, getting worse, breaking down completely, feeling suicidal, being pressured to "let it go" by others, and repeat.
I've never felt like people entirely understand some of the stuff I've dealt with. Certain people understand certain aspects, and are entirely oblivious to others. And I've only ever met one person who I have been able to open up to completely. The problem comes in when he started to blame me for the way I felt.
He's told me to "just stop" or insisted that I have a choice, and that I'm merely choosing to be unhappy. Maybe he never got the whole "my brain doesn't produce the chemicals that make people happy."
I've heard the whole "things get better" innumerable times. But I cannot see any light at the end of the tunnel. All I know is that some days are better than others, but it feels like I'm always going to be on the brink. I've been in this bloody tunnel as long as I can remember, and I see no future for myself. I try to picture it-- in a relationship, going to school, functioning as a normal person, etc. But try as I may, my future is a small future, and none of those happy, normal things are for me.
I'm guessing that I am stuck with this shit tunnel for the rest of my life, however much longer that may be. I know that I will always be on meds, I will always be depressed, and I will always feel alone.

Feminism, Equality, + Shortcomings

I have always struggled with knowing what exactly to blog about. I mean, my life isn't extremely interesting, and I wouldn't want to bore anyone with my stupid issues. So I guess I'll just have to write about whatever the hell I feel like writing about.

Today it's feminism. I have a real issue with the stigma surrounding such a word. As Lily Allen says, "Feminism is not a dirty word..." It always bothers me when I mention feminism and I can feel a huge shift in the energy of the room. People seem to think that feminism is essentially the same thing as misogyny, only in reverse order. The fact is that feminism has nothing to do with "girl power" or women being better than men. The entire concept revolves around equality. 

I saw this cartoon on the internet with the definition of feminism, which is something similar to "someone who moves for equality between men and women of all races". This girl looks at it and says, "Seriously, who doesn't want this?" And the caption read: "When people say they are against feminism, I just assume they don't know what they're talking about." (I'm sorry I couldn't get the actual, photo. I'll track it down eventually and add it on). 

I've begun to take this belief into my own life, and whenever someone said something degrading about feminism, I death glare them and ask them what exactly they think feminism actually is. 99% of the time, they're very wrong, and I teach them what it actually is. The remaining 1% are just assholes. 

It's ridiculous to me that women and minorities are still fighting for essential human rights. Rights that are covered by the constitution in 5 words: "All men are created equal". (Don't even think about pulling the 'it says all men are created equal, not women')

 I mean, women are STILL not payed as much as men are for the same job, and the fact is that racism remains a prominent aspect of our society. Just as throughout history, we simply refuse to admit any weaknesses whatsoever. You know, "becuz this is Amuricah!"

I'm not trying to knock America too hard, we try hard (most of the time) and are, overall, a great country. Gotta love that freedom. I merely wish to point out that we have faults too, and it is high time we address them and finally bring an end to discrimination and inequality. 

5 Days

We haven't spoken since Thursday For what reason I'm not entirely sure. All I know is that I'm deeply hurt, And I'm falling apart. If I was already broken, by now I must be a fine dust. Oh lord, what is this nonsense? Why do we put ourselves through such torture, Why do we feel the need to separate ourselves from those things that make us bleed? I can choose between bleeding, and not breathing, I'm drowning, now, drowning in the love I feel from him. And whether he knows or not, I do. I know that I love him. While he may not mine the person I fell in love with two years ago, He is still the person who holds my soul. Jesus Lord, it's been too long. I miss him. I miss him like one would miss their own existence. Though its weak and disgusting, I don't feel myself without him. He's become a part of me, And I feel utterly lost without him.

Honesty is the Stuff of Nightmares

She opened up, Peeled off her very skin and She showed me what was underneath. Her pain, it's deep. It floods her body through the blood. It is etched into her very bones. I want to say I we have those same etchings, But really they're just the echoes. Echoes of a pain I've half experienced. She showed herself to me. She removed the pretty mask she wears And she showed me the ugly truth. I'm disgusted, I'm unbearably sad, And I wish I could tell her I understand. But the etching on my bones, They're just a whisper of her pain. They're just the signature of an ugly nightmare. A nightmare I only half remember, And a nightmare that haunts her every single day.

Nightmare

I just had the most horrifying dream. I was at school, and. Went to print out my paper and all pictures on the page came out black while all the letters were in blood. Then I was walking around the halls, and a few of my friends came up to me and were like staring right through me. Then they focused on me, looking worried. I started talking to them, but what was coming out of my mouth wasn't what I was trying to say. One of them was like, "shes asleep you guys". And my eyes suddenly focused and I said, "what?" And then they unfocused again. They all looked at me and were asking me when the last time I slept was, and I just started laughing hysterically. Then I focused and told them that no, I was fine. Then we all turned into little kids, like 6 or 7. We were all drenched in blood. My best friend turned and looked at me and said, "but how can you tell? What if what you think is a dream is actually reality?" They all started to laugh and started to cut themselves.
It was so horrible.