I have half-joked for years … gosh, since high school, at least … about running for President of the United States in 2012. (Truth be told, I think I would rather be Vice President, because they seem to actually get to go places and talk to people other than at press conferences, photo ops and meetings.)

But, let’s just say that I did run for the high office. Then what?

Mr. Smith Goes to Washington is an idealistic tale that we want to believe because we’re raised to understand that “for the people” and “by the people” actually refers to we, the people … as in, you and me. I try to look at all sides of an issue and not get too mired in pessimism, but honestly, here’s what I think would really happen if I threw my hat in the ring:

1. I may be a so-called “professional fundraiser,” but I don’t have the personal connections to raise the tens of millions of dollars necessary to run a presidential campaign. Plus, since most folks start raising money a year before the primaries, I’d already be way behind.
2. Money aside, let’s talk about appearance. Oh, sure, we can pretend like it doesn’t matter, but we all know that it does. There are enough old “fat” pictures of me floating around cyberspace to provide cruel fodder for tabloids and pundit talk shows concerning my appearance. Even my current shape, which isn’t my goal but certainly represents an accomplishment, would probably be berated for not being “fit” enough. Someone would critique my hair cut/color. Someone would find out that I have a tattoo and call me a Satan worshiper without bothering to find out what the symbol means to me. Someone would be appalled that I shop resale. Someone would be aghast about the cartilage piercing in my left ear. Someone would take notice that I don’t care much for manicures and seldom paint my nails.
3. Then there’s the family situation. As if I haven’t heard it all already. “Wow, five kids — Are you Catholic?” No, but if I was, I’d be even more offended than I am right now. “Kept trying for that girl, eh?” Shut your pie hole before I shut it for you. Without knowing squat about me, people would critique my ability to juggle the high demands of the office with the [no duh] high demands of raising a large family. Yeah, like I haven’t heard that one before in my own workplace. On the flip side, others would criticize my career, entirely, claiming that I must not really love my children because I didn’t drop everything to stay home to raise them. Again, tell me something I haven’t heard already. I can’t win for losing when people convince themselves of my abilities based on their assumptions of what they could (or couldn’t) handle. If it’s too much for them to fathom, then surely it must be too much for me.

There you have it: plain ol’ @ang4prez, aspiring to be Mr. Smith. The pathetic thing is, I’m not even running for public office, yet I slam into brick walls just trying to be taken seriously as a professional-who-can-do-other-things-besides-write-grants and a scholar-whose-suffix-acronym-is-something-other-than-PhD.

Some people juggle rubber balls. Some people juggle plates. Some people juggle flaming swords. Vastly more people sit in the audience without ever trying juggling at all and wait with anticipation for the performer to drop something, just so they can say, “I knew she couldn’t do it.” To those people, I say …

Watch me.