Obama-llama-ding-dong

Yesterday, I stood outside in an uncharacteristically long voting line at 5:50 AM, without coffee, without gloves, and without many Democrats. But it was cool. I like voting. Voting is one of the few things I do that really makes me feel like I'm an adult.

I waited in front of a really pissed off 18 year old who was near rabid about having to be in line at the school at 6 AM on her day off. Justifiable rage, I thought. And when I heard her mom say "I'm so thankful that you're here. You're a part of America's history now," and then her response, "Well America can just go to hell. I could care less about this, MOM! I don't even know who's running!" I smiled and thought to myself, Yeah. America.

And so, I cast a vote for my uterus, for women's rights, for the LGBT community, for the middle class, for my student loan and credit card interest rates, for reforming health insurance, and for forward thinking, compassionate politicians everywhere. My dad calls me a socialist English major. He's just bitter that Mittens didn't win.  

I'm not very political. I have beliefs and principles and whatnot, but I'm not aggressive about it (unless I've had a couple of cocktails). Voting in the presidential election is about as civic as I get. In fact, the only time I've ever wanted to really get involved in politics was in the 4th grade, on the day we sat in an assembly to learn about the Student Government Association. I just happened to be wearing a skirt and sheer black tights, that day and thought I'd make a really pretty secretary. So I spent the rest of the day imagining what outfits I'd wear to the SGA meetings and how I'd end up having a steamy affair with the president.

... did I mention that part about adult me voting for women's rights? ok, good.

4 more years!