I came. I saw. I ticked a box.

It’s Tuesday! And my day off. I’m just sitting here like a twat, almost forgetting that I should be writing a blog post. I cannot be blamed though. It’s in the low sixties today after being balls cold on and off for the past two weeks. I spent a couple hours sitting out on the porch listening to Book Fight, a brilliant podcast I’m currently addicted to. Even now, I’m on the couch (can’t see my computer screen outside in the sunlight) with the sliding glass door open and the fresh air sweeping in and dusting out the cobwebs of winter.

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(This is kind of how I feel about Spring. Spring is kind of a taunting bastard because the moment you say “Yes!” it snows another thirteen inches.)

I got dressed today because I decided to vote. I’ve been trying to be adultier recently. I listen to NPR occasionally. I also did research on Republican candidates to see who I wanted to support. I’m not going to lie to you. I find Trump to be an absolute joke, but there’s no “Anyone but Trump” option on the ballot.

I can’t say that I’m super excited whenever election time comes around. I know that people want me to believe that every vote counts and that voting let’s me voice be heard. Maybe it does. Maybe my voice is heard by voting. On the other hand, after being heard, it seems to be promptly ignored. I think voting must only seem beneficial to those who win elections. Like, if the guy I vote for loses, then it doesn’t really matter if I voted or not. At most, my vote will only have decided the margin in which he lost. Also, there’s that whole thing with the electoral college. And to be honest, I think we’re scammed on the whole voting and election thing anyways.

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So, obviously, I have issues with voting, but I did it anyway, so I’m allowed to complain about shit, right? That’s the rule. I showed up to the party, now I can cry if I want to? If nothing else, I have an arguably cute profile pic that will last me the day. And if there’s any hope or justice in the world, Trump won’t become president. It’s not like I’m going to move to Canada if he wins. (I love when people say that. No you aren’t. Stop being an idiot.) No, I fully recognize that I’ll stick around to bitch about his decisions and openly mock his toupee.

The weirdest part about voting today was all the weird looks I got. If I was more paranoid, I’d worry that the volunteers could read my mind. I mean, I must rank noticeably opposite to voting volunteers on the excitement spectrum for voting day. I think they were judging how I looked, oddly enough. They looked at me like I was some sort of hooligan ready to spray paint the gym walls. It was the weirdest thing ever.

I didn’t think I wore anything too weird. So, yeah, I wore flip flops, but it was sixty out and all the snow has melted. I wore my jeans (which are skinny jeans, sue me) and a maroon Night of the Living Stones shirt, which looks like a zombie movie filmed in someone’s backyard. Actually, it’s a Christian band t-shirt, oddly enough. Over that, I wore my over-sized tan cardigan. It’s loose and drapey and hangs down to about my knees. I also wore the knit cap I made out of an old sweater. You can’t even tell that I stitched it myself though. It totally looks store bought. I guess some of my tattoos were visible. Maybe that was what made me look like a troublemaker? Or maybe it was because I requested the Republican ballot and I don’t look like people’s image of a Republican.

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I’m a single, white, female in my twenties. I look like I should be a pro-choice, liberal Democrat. I’m opposite of that. I love when the volunteers catch a glimpse of that. The last time I voted, this little old black lady caught sight of me being a Republican. She looked at me like my face suddenly began to melt off. I laughed at that one.

I’m not surprised though. I recently saw a post on how Republicans hate women. I don’t hate women. But I don’t support abortion either, and I make that statement strongly as a feminist. I’m not going to make this post about abortion though. If you want to talk intelligently with me about the subject, shoot me a message. I love to talk about ideas and personal beliefs. If you just want to be a mean asshole, ain’t nobody got time for that.

They still let me vote, which I guess is a testament to the spirit of democracy. We haven’t gotten to the point of not letting people vote. Although I’m sorting of projecting that America slips into a dictatorship, or this democratic experiment blows up in our faces and we become New Russia. I’m outy 500 if we get start The Lottery, though. Dueces. (That’s a link by the way to a short story by Shirley Jackson. Definitely give it a read if you have time.)

(My initial, secondary, tertiary response to The Lottery:)

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I have zero curiosity about how today will end. I don’t think the person I voted for will win the primary. On top of that, I live in Michigan. For the last two eletions, at least, Michigan has turned out a strongly Democratic vote in the presidential election. So, even if my vote is “heard” today, when we get to the presidential elections my voice will be thoroughly suffocated by blue votes. I did get my token American experience. Plus, I treated myself to a McDonald’s coke afterward and was able to stop by the library before going home.

Libraries. Those will make a difference.

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