If there are any mad scientists, genius physicists, or space/time-continuum hobbyists reading this blog, please make yourself known. I’m looking for a time machine. Doesn’t have to be anything fancy, I don’t need frills or classy décor or good gas mileage, just something functional to get me back and forth through time. Used is fine.
Reason I need a time machine is that I’d like some breathing room while I finish writing the book. Like, right now, I’ve just come home from a Saturday at work. I was at the county library, which usually has a slower pace than the one in town, and there were certainly some dry spells—but even so, the patrons kept me busy enough that I’m sorta tired now that I’m home. I’d like to kick back with a glass of wine and a good book (even a Women’s Nonfiction book, if necessary), but considering the ever-closer deadline, I shouldn’t squander the evening.
A time machine, now, that would fix everything. I could work on the book at my leisure. Or here, I’ll make a deal with you: If a traditional time machine is asking too much, I could make do instead with a time suspender. I don’t need to travel backward or forward in time, really; I just need the rest of the world to freeze while I finish the manuscript.
Money’s kind of tight but I could come up with a decent down payment. Or I could rent. Or, if you’re feeling generous, you could make a gift of the time machine for my birthday coming up in April.
(For those of you keeping score at home, you have surmised correctly: I am writing this purely for the sake of procrastinating. I do not, as a matter of actual fact, have anything to write about today. One could argue that I do not have anything to write about on ANY day, but this time the dearth of interesting material is especially acute. This will be painfully obvious within the course of the next two or three paragraphs. Or maybe it’s already obvious. It is, isn’t it.)
So last Tuesday I voted in a primary. I’ve never voted in a primary before. I’ve never felt the need. Since I’ve been of age to vote, the Democrats have never presented any candidates worth fussing over. One has always been approximately as good as the other.
Am I really a Democrat? Well, yes, mainly. I suppose I might conceivably vote for a Republican at some point in my life, though it doesn’t seem likely. I give props to the Republicans for having better financial sense than I do, and in some ways I prefer their tendency toward small government.
But then again, sometimes I like big government. Global warming, for instance, will not be significantly addressed by small government or committed individuals. (Not that this prevents me from doing my part. I recycle, I save energy, I try to live a green lifestyle.) Global warming will only be lessened if big governments at the international level get their acts together.
On the other hand, there are some areas where the government should keep its nose out. In my state, the government has made clear who I can marry, based on—and it’s just ridiculous when you look at it like this—based on whether the individual in question has a different chromosome than what I have.
So there’s an instance where I’d like to see absolutely no government interference. If the Republican party could apply its preference for small government to the institution of marriage, I’d be far more sympathetic.
But aside from getting tetchy about government intrusion in certain areas, and aside from recognizing that Republicans have better financial sense than I do, I pretty much prefer the Democrats. Actually I think I’d make a fine Socialist, but socialism isn’t a viable party in America, so it’s the Democrats for me. It’s the best a social liberal can do in this country.
Oh, the Democrats. They make me cry. It’s so hard being a Democrat. Consider: during the past two presidential elections, the best they could come up with was Al Gore and John Kerry. The best they could come up with was not, and this is just humiliating, the best they could come up with was not good enough to defeat George W. Bush.
And then, wham, along comes 2008 and they have TWO fantastic candidates. Three, actually; I’ve always liked John Edwards. I have a photo of me standing next to him, but you’re just going to have to take my word on that, because I look really awful in the photo and there’s no way I’m ever going to let anyone see it.
So I spent all of last Tuesday hemming and hawing over which candidate I should vote for. I’d gladly vote for Hillary, if for no other reason than to get Bill Clinton back in the White House. There’s a lot about Hillary that I don’t like, but in the final analysis, I admire her and I think she’s be an excellent president. She has more experience than Barack, and that counts for a lot. She’s probably the more sensible choice.
It wasn’t until I was waiting in line at the polling place that I finally decided to vote for Barack. Hillary is more experienced, but there’s just something about Barack that makes my political heart flutter. (I tried explaining this to Alyosha. He just rolled his eyes. “It’s not like I’m not voting for a Beatle,” he said—and then voted for him anyway.)
What it finally came down to is that Barack represents something new and exciting and refreshing. He hasn’t proven himself like Hillary has, but the potential is there. I decided that, just once in my life, I’d like to be able to cast a vote for someone who really gives me a tingly feeling.
If Hillary gets the nod, I will gladly vote for her in November, with no regrets. But at least I was able to vote for a candidate who makes me feel warm and happy. It’s a much better feeling than my “Well at least he’s not Bush” votes from the past two presidential elections.
Mmmkay. Enough of that. Everyone else is writing about politics these days, and though it kills me to say this, you can find better political writing elsewhere. But can you find better writing anywhere else about Jessica Kenndy-Rockefeller? I think not! I suspect she’ll be making an appearance in the next post; it’s been a long while since she graced us all with her presence. Stay tuned!