The 2004 Elections; Or How I Almost Voted for Bush
this entry brought to you by ambulance ltd., "primitive (the way that I treat you)"
I got back from the polls a little more than an hour ago. Right now I am very surprised to find that I'm not filled with that anxious dread that I felt just yesterday, but a feeling of contented elatation. I expected that I would be nervous all day to the point of my stomach hurting, and I suspect that as the day draws on I will be, but right now I have a pleased smile on my face. I guess it's because, unlike last election, I know I did my part, and it's out of my hands now. That feeling ordinarily fills me with anxiety, but this time it just fills me with content. I have faith in the country. I have faith that Democrats are going to make the difference. And I have faith that voters my age and younger, up til now notoriously apathetic towards politics, are going to be in those lines in record numbers. And young people, let's face it, want Bush the fuck out.
I remember this day four years ago. I was working at Target, my stomach turned into a knot, working in Electronics with my friend Matt (I wonder how he's doing...), our eyes glued to the television. In Target we're not allowed to have any of the televisions turned to any other station than the Target Video Network, a looping video tape in a VCR hooked up to all the TVs, unless there was a customer standing in front of it. This time, however, we made an exception. We stared at the TV with anticipation as the numbers kept flopping back and forth, and I cheered with gusto when Gore was announced winner. Then my stomach sank when Bush was declared the winner. Then Gore again. Then Bush again. I remember going home that day, dejected, depressed, confounded.
Previously I didn't make the deadline to register to vote. It was completely my fault and I felt terrible about it, but I wasn't overly upset because I knew traditionally that California was a Democrat state and would vote for Gore whether or not I voted-- which ended up being the case. This year, however, not only has my hatred towards George Bush grown 500% (and it was already pretty darned high), but I reside in a swing state which could go either way. My vote does count. Those stories you've been seeing on the news for the past two months on the people that will decide this election? I am one of those people. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't vote for Kerry in this election. Turns out I was able to register in the hippest way possible-- at a rock concert-- and my card arrived in time on October 10th I believe. I was going to rock the vote.
Michelle and I took the baby to the poll office around the corner at Club Oasis apartments. The apartments are so-so but the office itself was pleasant and had a nice atmosphere. As I mentioned yesterday, I wanted to walk in wearing my Nine Inch Nails shirt, just to be the little rebel that I am, but I decided it wasn't worth getting any trouble. This is a swing state, remember, and I have already read about how the Republican forces were going to be strong here. I was so worried about Republican shenanigans this time around that I took my camera-- my weapon of choice, because it can do more damage than a gun in these days. Turns out that my paranoia was for naught, as the line I stood in was chipper and excited (the eager anticipation in line was almost like that of a rock concert, which seemed oddly appropriate, considering how I got registered), orderly, and efficient. My one concern was Celest who grow more and more agitated and fussy the closer we got to voting. By the time Michelle was actually voting I stood with Celest in my arms, gently bopping her up and down and shushing quietly, trying to keep her calm.
She ended up being a good enough girl and I was really proud of her, but when I passed her off to Michelle and took to a booth, sure enough, I could hear her fussing behind me.
And in all the excitedness, all the ancipation, and my built-up anxiety over the baby, I grabbed the ballot, marked the first one in the category of "President", fondly looked over what I'd just marked and...
I'd accidentally voted for George Bush.
"Oh no!" I said aloud. All that anticipation, all that fervor I'd built myself up to, and I ended up voting for the wrong damned guy. The previous day, a guy at work and I said it would be really funny if I voted for George Bush despite all the shit I'd been talking up til yesterday, and I agreed it would be absolutely hilarious coming from me. And now it was true.
I was prepared to just accept this dreadful mistake I'd just made, vote as carefully as I could down the rest of the form for "Democrat", and hope that the rest of this state didn't make the mistake I did. I had heard so many stories from the previous election of polling offices not having enough ballots for everyone and turning people down when they asked for a second ballot, forcing them to either accept their mistake as I was about to do or have their ballot and their voice destroyed forever.
"Did you just vote for Bush?" Michelle said from behind me, having heard my out-loud disgust in myself. She told me to get a new ballot, and I told her I didn't think I could, but I asked anyway because she encouraged me, and sure enough, the guy happily wrote "SPOILED" on my now-ruined ballot and threw it away, handing me a perfectly fresh one.
I couldn't believe my mistake. I've accidentally filled out my first name in the last name space when filling out applications, accidentally written today's date on my birthday, that sort of thing, and I felt embarassed. But now imagine how I must've felt when the future of my country was at stake. Still, I felt so happy and relieved that they could just give me another one, no questions asked.
And now, here I am. Anxious but content. Wondering if I can handle the stomach pains of watching the election coverage, wondering if I can handle the stomach pains of not watching the election coverage until reading tomorrow's headlines. Confident that the poll numbers will say what they have to say: That John Kerry is the next president of the United States.
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with love from CRS @ 1:28 PM
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
I got back from the polls a little more than an hour ago. Right now I am very surprised to find that I'm not filled with that anxious dread that I felt just yesterday, but a feeling of contented elatation. I expected that I would be nervous all day to the point of my stomach hurting, and I suspect that as the day draws on I will be, but right now I have a pleased smile on my face. I guess it's because, unlike last election, I know I did my part, and it's out of my hands now. That feeling ordinarily fills me with anxiety, but this time it just fills me with content. I have faith in the country. I have faith that Democrats are going to make the difference. And I have faith that voters my age and younger, up til now notoriously apathetic towards politics, are going to be in those lines in record numbers. And young people, let's face it, want Bush the fuck out.
I remember this day four years ago. I was working at Target, my stomach turned into a knot, working in Electronics with my friend Matt (I wonder how he's doing...), our eyes glued to the television. In Target we're not allowed to have any of the televisions turned to any other station than the Target Video Network, a looping video tape in a VCR hooked up to all the TVs, unless there was a customer standing in front of it. This time, however, we made an exception. We stared at the TV with anticipation as the numbers kept flopping back and forth, and I cheered with gusto when Gore was announced winner. Then my stomach sank when Bush was declared the winner. Then Gore again. Then Bush again. I remember going home that day, dejected, depressed, confounded.
Previously I didn't make the deadline to register to vote. It was completely my fault and I felt terrible about it, but I wasn't overly upset because I knew traditionally that California was a Democrat state and would vote for Gore whether or not I voted-- which ended up being the case. This year, however, not only has my hatred towards George Bush grown 500% (and it was already pretty darned high), but I reside in a swing state which could go either way. My vote does count. Those stories you've been seeing on the news for the past two months on the people that will decide this election? I am one of those people. I wouldn't be able to live with myself if I didn't vote for Kerry in this election. Turns out I was able to register in the hippest way possible-- at a rock concert-- and my card arrived in time on October 10th I believe. I was going to rock the vote.
Michelle and I took the baby to the poll office around the corner at Club Oasis apartments. The apartments are so-so but the office itself was pleasant and had a nice atmosphere. As I mentioned yesterday, I wanted to walk in wearing my Nine Inch Nails shirt, just to be the little rebel that I am, but I decided it wasn't worth getting any trouble. This is a swing state, remember, and I have already read about how the Republican forces were going to be strong here. I was so worried about Republican shenanigans this time around that I took my camera-- my weapon of choice, because it can do more damage than a gun in these days. Turns out that my paranoia was for naught, as the line I stood in was chipper and excited (the eager anticipation in line was almost like that of a rock concert, which seemed oddly appropriate, considering how I got registered), orderly, and efficient. My one concern was Celest who grow more and more agitated and fussy the closer we got to voting. By the time Michelle was actually voting I stood with Celest in my arms, gently bopping her up and down and shushing quietly, trying to keep her calm.
She ended up being a good enough girl and I was really proud of her, but when I passed her off to Michelle and took to a booth, sure enough, I could hear her fussing behind me.
And in all the excitedness, all the ancipation, and my built-up anxiety over the baby, I grabbed the ballot, marked the first one in the category of "President", fondly looked over what I'd just marked and...
I'd accidentally voted for George Bush.
"Oh no!" I said aloud. All that anticipation, all that fervor I'd built myself up to, and I ended up voting for the wrong damned guy. The previous day, a guy at work and I said it would be really funny if I voted for George Bush despite all the shit I'd been talking up til yesterday, and I agreed it would be absolutely hilarious coming from me. And now it was true.
I was prepared to just accept this dreadful mistake I'd just made, vote as carefully as I could down the rest of the form for "Democrat", and hope that the rest of this state didn't make the mistake I did. I had heard so many stories from the previous election of polling offices not having enough ballots for everyone and turning people down when they asked for a second ballot, forcing them to either accept their mistake as I was about to do or have their ballot and their voice destroyed forever.
"Did you just vote for Bush?" Michelle said from behind me, having heard my out-loud disgust in myself. She told me to get a new ballot, and I told her I didn't think I could, but I asked anyway because she encouraged me, and sure enough, the guy happily wrote "SPOILED" on my now-ruined ballot and threw it away, handing me a perfectly fresh one.
I couldn't believe my mistake. I've accidentally filled out my first name in the last name space when filling out applications, accidentally written today's date on my birthday, that sort of thing, and I felt embarassed. But now imagine how I must've felt when the future of my country was at stake. Still, I felt so happy and relieved that they could just give me another one, no questions asked.
And now, here I am. Anxious but content. Wondering if I can handle the stomach pains of watching the election coverage, wondering if I can handle the stomach pains of not watching the election coverage until reading tomorrow's headlines. Confident that the poll numbers will say what they have to say: That John Kerry is the next president of the United States.
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