Last Political Post Pre Election (Most Likely)

Last week my old Welsh teacher posted a link to a morality quiz.  I didn't think much of it but decided to proceed anyway.  It was a hard quiz because I really had to think about how much something swayed me morally (and because it takes a few minutes to get used to the wording). 

What's important is that at the end of the quiz it explained how their are five categories in morality that they were rating you on.  They say it better than I do (obviously, they made it) so here is the explanation:

The scale is a measure of the degree to which you endorse five sets moral values which seem to be the foundations of morality across cultures. The five foundations are: 1) Caring vs. harm, 2) Fairness vs. cheating, 3) Loyalty vs. betrayal, 4) Authority vs. subversion, and 5) Sanctity vs. degradation.
The idea behind the scale is that human beings value many different moral concerns. Some of these concerns are about treating other individuals well (the first two foundations: care and fairness). Other concerns are about how to be a good member of a group or supporter of social order and tradition (the last three foundations). At YourMorals.org, we have found that political liberals generally place a higher value on the first two foundations; they are very concerned about issues of care and fairness (at least when fairness is defined as equality). Political conservatives value those things too, although they generally see fairness as proportionality (getting what you deserve) rather than as equality. But the big difference between liberals and conservatives seems to be that social conservatives score higher on loyalty, authority, and sanctity.
This difference seems to explain many of the most contentious issues in the culture war. For example, liberals support legalizing gay marriage (to be compassionate and treat everyone equally), whereas many conservatives are reluctant to change the nature of marriage and the family, basic building blocks of society.

It finally, FINALLY clicked in a logical way for me.  I view a lot of political issues based on being fair and caring and I've had a really hard time understanding why people who think differently from me don't see these as the main reasons for voting one way or another.  When my mom and I were arguing about why I supported Obamacare I explained that I don't ever want someone to be scared because someone they loved was sick and could not afford healthcare (stemming from her having a cervical prolapse and being worried about having cancer but not being able to afford seeing a doctor).  In my mind, every human being should have the same access to quality healthcare, regardless of their income level.

But not everyone thinks the same way.  For a lot of my friends and family it isn't about being equal and kind.  It is about loyalty, authority and religious beliefs.  And quite frankly, besides the religious aspect of things, I've always felt really strange about people and issues involving loyalty.  I've never felt patriotic and I think that has a lot to do with it.  And while I believe in obeying the law and respecting police officers, I believe more in freedom.  

Midnight Bike Travels

Sometimes I am super grateful that I am a woman.  Usually this involves anything having to do with children.  Like reading at a play ground alone or walking through a school parking lot as a short cut while kids are going to/leaving school.  Or waving or smiling back at a child I do not know who is waving or smiling at me.  If I were a man I would be considered a creeper by society. 

But other times I am super ungrateful to be a woman.

Like the other night when I had to go to work at midnight.

I started biking over and started having issues with the bike.  The gears were having problems shifting and it was super hard to pedal and the back tire started coming off.  So I got off the bike just off of Freedom Blvd.  I was messing with the tire and the gears when these two homeless men came by.  One of them was on a bike and one of them had a shopping cart with a huge dried corn plant.  They passed by me and then stopped and asked me if I was having bike trouble.  I said yes and they asked what was wrong.  Unfortunately, it wasn't the kind of tone of voice that made me feel comfortable.  I told them it was fine multiple times before they continued on and as soon as they started moving again I wanted to sit down and sob.  I was terrified.

I shouldn't perpetuate the stereotype that being a woman alone late at night when someone offers to help could be misconstrued as being creepy.  I hate that a good samaritan can be confused as a creep.  But I was literally terrified.  And it makes me angry that if something had happened to me it would be "my fault" because I was stupid enough to be alone at night in a slightly sketch part of town. 

Why are women told to "not get raped" rather than men told to "not rape"? 

Pomegranates

Pomegranates are the most beautiful fruit.

On the inside, they look like little beads of precious gems.

But the seed that is surrounded by the ruby red deliciousness ruins it.

It makes pomegranates almost as undesirable as Red Delicious apples.

When the Day Comes

When the day comes that I am an old maid I am going to have a cat and it will be red and I will be a cat lady.

And I will spend rainy afternoons with a book and a roast chicken.

And although my mother will frequently tell me that it is my fault that she never had any grandchildren, I will be quite happy indeed.

Even after Marie gets married and it is just me and the cat.

Because she wouldn't let me have a cat when we lived together anyway.

The Leanings and Swayings

It's time.

I've been thinking about how I would address this for some time now.

It is election season (obviously) and I feel the desire to share my thoughts on subject.

I had been very conflicted about who I was going to vote for in this election.  In 2008 I voted for Obama, and I did so because I trusted the way he treated his family.  This year I've come to the voting block older, more informed, and more thoughtful.  Part of me wanted to vote for Obama again, to stand next to what I had already supported.  And part of me wanted to vote for Romney, the man who had gone to my college, grew up in my religious faith, and had a background in business.

What sealed the deal?

At my very core I believe in welfare.  I believe that Social Security is important for seniors and the handicapped.  I believe that the poverty cycle is very real.  I don't comprehend how someone born into a low income family, who goes to high school in a low income area, and is faced with helping their family pay the bills after graduation can still be expected to get into college, afford it, and somehow make the decision to not help provide for their family by not taking a minimum wage job right out of high school.  The poverty cycle.  It's real.  The movie "The Pursuit of Happiness" is the exception, not the norm.  I believe that good medical care should be available to all people, regardless of how much money they make.  If we as a people have a right to life, as claimed by the Preamble of our Constitution, then we have a right to affordable medical care to help us keep living.

I do not believe in tax cuts to the wealthy.  In my mind, it doesn't help those that really need help.  If I were a millionaire and found myself paying less in taxes (which lessens the amount of money to support our government and welfare programs) I would go buy something like a Prada bag and a Porsche.  Both things which would not really be helping the lower class.  But tax cuts to the middle and lower classes?  That could pay off debt, help someone afford a semester of college, buy more groceries than the week before or buy something at Walmart (both of which when happening to tens of thousands of people across the country would stimulate job growth to the middle and lower classes).  While the idea of the trickle down would stimulate job growth... I don't see someone taking their tax cut to hire more employees, but to buy a private jet instead.

I don't like the way Romney came off in that "leaked" video of his $50,000 a plate dinner.  "It would be easier if I were Latino"?  Because life is so easy for Latinos in this country!  Because 50% of Americans do not pay income tax which is why we vote Obama.  I don't like the way he seems out of touch with reality.  I don't like Ryan's tax plan overhaul.  I don't like the idea of lessening federal financial aid to students or privatizing social security.

As a practicing Mormon, I believe in helping others that need it.  I have several friends with babies who have gone on Medicaid and WIC.  These are good programs!  But to use these programs and say that you do not believe in welfare because it's a handout and a waste of tax money?  SHAME ON YOU!  And using the excuse that the Church tells you not to wait to have children because of money is unfortunate.  Why would it be okay for you and not for someone who is a single woman who accidentally became pregnant and chooses not to end her baby's life?  And to choose to stay at home even if it means being on welfare but not wanting to provide help for a single mother who is working?  This logic is repulsive to me.  Especially when I hear of young LDS couples who lie in order to qualify for these programs and then vote for a candidate who supports cutting funds to these programs.

So I'm voting for Obama.  Because as a hopeful future doctor I want everyone to have access to affordable care.  Because I know what it's like to worry about a family member being sick and not being able to afford to find out if they have cancer or not.  I'm voting Obama because I work with disabled individuals who depend on the government because they do not have a suitable family to help take care of them.  I'm voting Obama because I went to high school at an under performing school that went through three principles in the time of my attendance.  Because I'm from a lower class area where a good amount of the 40 kids from my honors classes have not finished their bachelor's degrees six years after graduation due to financial problems.  And because I believe that my gay brother and friends have just as much right to be legally joined to the love of their life as I do.  And because Barack Obama?  He was raised by a single mom, much like I was.  Because his life, which has been well off for quite some time, was not always so.  Because I get the feeling that he has lived off of Ramen noodles at one time or another.  And because even though he is well off he chooses to help others who are not.

My Life Story: Anxiety

I can vividly remember being in sixth grade and going to spend the night at my friend Lucinda's house.  I brought my Beanie Baby collection and we played with them for awhile.  I didn't mind being at her house.  Her mom worked at the school and she was really familiar to me.  And her older brother was best friends with my older brother so he was over all the time at my house.  But as it got closer and closer to bed time I started feeling physically sick.

So I finally gathered up my things and hopped over the fence into my back yard.  I couldn't do it.

In high school my friends always spent the night at my house and not the other way around.  I spent the night at Marie's house once.  And at Camille's house once.  And at Ashley's house once.  And at Sabrina's house once.  And in all but one case there were other people spending the night at the same time.  When we weren't sleeping at my house we were hanging out at my house.  Every weekend night until at least midnight.

There's the classic story of Marie's mom coming to pick her up at 4am one time because she had woken up in the middle of the night and Marie wasn't in her room so she had figured she just needed a ride home from my house.  She didn't even call.  She just came over.  Because every one was always at my house.  We weren't going to go to Camille's... her parents were way strict!  And Ashley lived quite a bit farther from the rest of us.

This sentiment spills over to my vacation time, too.  When I went to Florida for Thanksgiving a few years ago I had a slight anxiety attack the last night on the ship because I needed to be home.  Once during my first semester at BYU I stayed up tossing and turning trying not to cry because I wanted to hop on a bus and go home for a weekend.

This weekend my mom came down to visit.  The plan was that I would go to Salt Lake with her to stay with Great Aunt Elaine for Saturday night and all of Sunday.  But after the first session of Conference on Saturday before I had to go to work I started to freak out again.  I did not want to go.  And while part of this had to do with being stuck alone with my mom and Great Aunt Elaine most of it had to do with sleeping somewhere that was not mine.  I started getting antsy and nervous and somewhat sick about having to suck it up.  But when my mom came to pick me up on Saturday she asked if I wanted to go and I told her that in all honesty I was getting anxious about not sleeping at my place.

I knew it sounded strange.

The miraculous thing was when she told me that that had always been true about me.  She knew that I got anxious about sleeping at other places.  And she wasn't upset or offended in anyway.

Years ago I had been upset with her when I shared with her some of the details of my Patriarchal Blessing that she didn't get excited about.  Months after the incident I finally expressed how upset I was by her reaction to something that was very special to me.  Her response was that all of the things I had told her she had already known about me and they weren't a surprise to her like they were to me.  She hadn't realized that the information was anything new to me.

I tell myself that my family doesn't understand me--that I am the black sheep.  But my mom knows me just as well as I know myself.  All the stories that I have to tell my friends for them to understand my past... my mom lived through those stories.  I didn't need to ever tell her them.  She saw how I reacted to what would happen in my life even if she never let me know.

How much more does my Heavenly Father know me?  Sometimes I tell myself that He doesn't know me very well, but he watches me.  He knows how I'll react to things and what makes me tick.  And like my own earthly mother, He doesn't need to let me know to what extent He knows me.  For Him, it is just a given.  For Him, He has watched me walk my path for much longer than my almost 24 years on earth.  And He, like my mother, has hopes for my future that I do not yet see.

Autumnal Beauty and the Fall Faces of Jessica

In case you are ever feeling not-so-good about yourself (physically) I have some recommendations.  

A.  Have the Mary Kay lady in Provo named Jessica (not me, no relation) visit you and teach you how to put make-up on.  All of a sudden everyone tells you how nice you look.

B.  Invite Blake Fisher over for lunch at your place.  He will possibly be busy which will lead him to inviting you to lunch the next day and you will go to your favorite new restaurant in Provo (The Old Time Grill) and you will start talking about how beautiful the canyon is in the early days of autumn.

C.  That will inevitably lead to the two of you driving up the canyon with the windows down.  This would be romantic (if it were with anyone else) but luckily for the two of you there will be no sexual tension.  In fact, Blake will decide to show you once again what makes his iPhone superior to not only all phones in general, but to the average camera and photo editor.  And he will decide to show you by taking 200 pictures of you surrounded by autumnal beauty.  

D.  You will absolutely feel ridiculous because you have been doubting yourself physically for awhile.  You will feel like every face you are making looks dumb unless you are cheesing it, in which case you will think that you are coming off so obviously fake.  But then you will go through the pictures later and you will feel like the most beautiful woman alive.  And slightly narcissistic because you literally want to show every one of your friends all 200 pictures.

And wonder if you can get away with rotating through them as your Facebook profile picture without anyone thinking you're weird.

I present to you:  The Fall Faces of Jessica (by the debonairly handsome Blake Fisher)

 

I call this "The Cami" after Cami Larson

See here for inspiration

Why HELLO, Blake Fisher!

The Squirrel face, AKA, the Esther Dohlman face.

The Gormagon face, from Bones.

Pocahontas did it first, naturally.

Poignancy

A few weeks ago I finished A Tree Grows in Brooklyn.  I liked it, although not nearly as much as I LOVE LOVE LOVED The Book Thief.  Read it.  Read it now.  You will probably spend the last 20 minutes of the book weeping on your bed using the hand of a one-eyed green stuffed monkey to wipe away your tears.  Probably.

Back to the point.

The narrator comments at one point that "the last time of anything has the poignancy of death itself."  I read this sentence and I knew it to be true. 

A couple years ago when I was dating Dave I could tell that things were going to go down hill pretty fast.  One night he was working and I was going to go out with a friend (I was probably going to Walmart with Hayley, let's be real).  He was working the front desk one night and as I was leaving we quickly (and chastely, might I add) kissed in the safe room.

I knew.  I knew right then that it would be the last time we kissed.  At the time, it was very poignant. 

Just as the news of death can quickly take you aback, making you keenly aware of not only your life but the relationship you had with the deceased.  It makes you quickly evaluate your life and etches itself as a memory that you will always carry.

The last time you kissed someone.  The last time you said goodbye.  The last time you exited the Testing Center.  When you turned the last page of a book that made you weep.  When you found out that you perhaps loved someone that you could never be with.  The last time you allowed yourself to cry on your living room floor.  Your last day of work at an office you came to love.

These things are burned and etched into you to the point that the memories have become you.  These poignant moments define you from that point on.  Just like death.