Cranky Bastard

While this was not my first election, it did give me a giddy feeling as if it were. I felt, for the first time, that voting was important. I only voted on issues that I really understand and care about. The other issues can be hashed out by people who are passionate about them. I was ridiculously proud to don the “I voted” sticker. In fact, the woman before me in line was insistent about getting her sticker as if it were a gold star on our paper in first grade. Each person, as they filed in to this library-like area in the back of this church, looked at each other knowingly. We all knew we were there to try to impact our future in a both selfish and selfless way. We knew we were all there out of responsibility, passion, hope and fear. We were all proud of our ability to stand up for our both singular and collective beliefs.
The news early today spoke of long lines at polling places all over the country. I was somewhat bummed that I might actually have to wait in line. I reminded myself that waiting in line was a small price compared to those women in Afghanistan who prepared physically and emotionally to die for the ability to vote on Election Day. Here, I merely had to decide whether to get my Starbucks before or after I filled out my ballot. A bit of perspective helped.