I am dreading 1:00, and also the hour leading up to 1:00 and, let's face it, the hour directly after 1:00. Today at 1:00PM is Tim's funeral. It is currently 7:20AM and I still have not decided if I should go to the service or not.
This is a tricky situation. I feel like I ought to go. And certainly, who would say that they want to go to any one's funeral? Well, except that my Mom wants sparklers, baton twirling, and "Deep in the Heart of Texas" sung (complete with clapping) at her funeral.** And I would liked to have been a fly on the wall at the funeral in Iain Banks novel, The Crow Road, whose opening lines begin, 'It was the day my grandmother exploded. I sat in the crematorium, listening to my Uncle Hamish quietly snoring in harmony to Bach's Mass in B Minor..' Or maybe I'd be OK with going to a viewing with Grandma Mazur in the Stephanie Plum Bounty Hunter series in which funerals tend to be gossipy social gatherings where one never knows what might happen, especially if the service is closed casket.
But these are not realities. The realities are too sad, too horrific to be funny.
And please don't misunderstand. I don't mean to belittle the solemnity of the occasion. Tim's life is certainly worth mourning.
This post, sadly and selfishly, is about me. It's more that I don't know what to say. At funerals (and weddings, and baby showers, and any sort of gathering made up of two or more people) I become self-conscious about everything I do, whether I'm shaking a hand, giving a condolence, reacting to someone, speaking out loud... Everything should've/could've been done better, as noted in the numerous pages of mental critiques I give myself after an event. In addition, funerals are different from all other events since there are no formal invitations. I have to ask myself, "Is it my place to be there? Will the family want me there? Would it make a difference if I am not there, in which case, why would I stress my pregnant, hormonal self out by going?" Plus in this case, there is the added complication that my students will be there, ones who are currently in my class and those I've taught in the past who are coming home for Tim's service.
As usual, I'll probably spend some time telling myself to be firmly planted, stoic..teacherly... "Be strong. These kids need you," when really I know that (as usual) the students will, inevitably, hold me up instead. And I think that's OK. After all, I ask them to be vulnerable with me everyday. I suppose it is my turn.
Anyway.
It is now 8:20, and I think I ought to go.
I've known that I should go since Remington said the words, "Sunday at 1:00," though with that I felt the uneasiness of indecision rise within my soul.
It's 8:35. And I'm a selfish girl.
** Mom, that doesn't mean I want that party to happen any time soon. Do you hear me?!
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Tuesday, March 25, 2008
From Operating Instructions
May 10
She's tiptoeing into the very beginning of some sort of relationship with God, or with a higher power, or something, but it is very hard for her to believe...
I recommended that she think of all of the women who have most adored her in her life and to come up with a sense of God based on that kind of love, on the same protectedness that it gives you to be loved by a really fine woman, a sense of some mysterious regenerative force at the center of things that is maybe just love. She said with great surprise, "I didn't know you could DO that," and I said, "Oh yeah, you can do anything you want, " and by this morning, she'd found a picture of a big cat licking a little cat. She's a great cat lover, and it stuck. So at the hospital this morning, as she sat in the doctor's office getting the chemo IV, and then as she sat around at home all day waiting to become Linda Blair, she said she'd picture this big cat licking her gently and carrying her in its mouth to safer places.
-Anne Lamott
She's tiptoeing into the very beginning of some sort of relationship with God, or with a higher power, or something, but it is very hard for her to believe...
I recommended that she think of all of the women who have most adored her in her life and to come up with a sense of God based on that kind of love, on the same protectedness that it gives you to be loved by a really fine woman, a sense of some mysterious regenerative force at the center of things that is maybe just love. She said with great surprise, "I didn't know you could DO that," and I said, "Oh yeah, you can do anything you want, " and by this morning, she'd found a picture of a big cat licking a little cat. She's a great cat lover, and it stuck. So at the hospital this morning, as she sat in the doctor's office getting the chemo IV, and then as she sat around at home all day waiting to become Linda Blair, she said she'd picture this big cat licking her gently and carrying her in its mouth to safer places.
-Anne Lamott
Sunday, March 23, 2008
I need a clarification
I can see why teachers harden their hearts. I think it is a defense mechanism because everyday we know that walking into a classroom means accepting (or denying) the decisions our students make, both good and bad. It means being judicious in the way that we are tolerant, whether we are talking about ignoring or prosecuting a small action of throwing a pencil across the room, or whether we are talking about something bigger than that.
The other night at dinner, we were laughing about junior high being the most difficult age group to work with because they are constantly trying to get away with behaviors that are not acceptable in the classroom (and that make the job difficult)- hitting the girl they have a crush on, saying a bad word loudly enough that they get a laugh, standing up for the billionth time when you have instructed them to stay seated, etc. We laughed and said, "Yeah but in high school, when they get in trouble, they REALLY get in trouble."
I have several 17 and 18 year old kids whom society deems "delinquent." They are sleeping around without considering the consequences, they are vandalizing property, they are doing and dealing illegal (and sometimes legal) drugs. Every year I have to talk to at least one girl about making good decisions when it comes to her emotional and bodily health. And when she makes the poor decision in spite of our discussions, I am there to help her "decide" what to do about the consequence. With boys, I generally have the prison discussion - as in you've made a bad decision, you've experienced the consequence. Where are you going from here?
The students come to teachers with their burdens. They trust us to be the voice of wisdom, and to know that when the boundaries in their lives haven't held, new stronger boundaries must be established, even if that means contacting school counselors or law enforcement. How many times have I wondered whether or not I am doing a kid a favor by "doing the right thing" in contacting the necessary enforcers? How many of those kids then go home to a worse circumstance because I've intervened? I rarely see the end result.
I was told that Tim P., one of my students on last year's litmag staff, died Friday. His body was found on Saturday. He overdosed on drugs of some sort. Tim was one of those who was constantly in my room talking about his life and the decisions he was making. In fact, he came by last week. I was annoyed at the time because I had a million things to grade, I was sick from being pregnant, and though I tried to act interested in what he was saying, I was clearly acting. I listened as he told me about some of the good things he was doing with his immense creativity and intellect and was semi-tolerant of some of the bad things. I'm sure I gave him the "teacher look" of disapproval because he hastened to talk about mending the bad things. It was hard for me to not roll my eyes and say, "Tim, Dammit! You are at it AGAIN! What in the hell is it going to take for you to stop making stupid decisions? How many times are you going to come in here for confession when what I say clearly fixes nothing?" But then that isn't my job, right?
When he left, I sort of felt relieved. I didn't say anything negative to him. I didn't establish stronger boundaries for him. I supported his good decisions, and told him that he could come back to visit anytime, though I only half-heartedly meant it. Tim, after all, was a delinquent. He was an adult who continued to make bad decisions, but who clearly needed some sort of edification since he was coming back to his high school teacher for guidance.
I don't think Tim's death was a suicide. And though I know I have no logical reason to feel responsible for it, emotionally I do.
What is my job, exactly? Define it for me! I can't be effective in the classroom if I have no emotional care for their well-beings! Yet, I can't save them all. I can't bring all of them home with me. So what the hell do I do?
Another wall is under construction around my heart simply because I'm human and I can't take on the joys and burdens of loving my students. Hopefully when all of my idealism is gone and the fortification around my heart is such that I don't have any compassion left.. Hopefully then I'll recognize that I need to find a new career. Otherwise, the community will be stuck with another defeated teacher robot.
The other night at dinner, we were laughing about junior high being the most difficult age group to work with because they are constantly trying to get away with behaviors that are not acceptable in the classroom (and that make the job difficult)- hitting the girl they have a crush on, saying a bad word loudly enough that they get a laugh, standing up for the billionth time when you have instructed them to stay seated, etc. We laughed and said, "Yeah but in high school, when they get in trouble, they REALLY get in trouble."
I have several 17 and 18 year old kids whom society deems "delinquent." They are sleeping around without considering the consequences, they are vandalizing property, they are doing and dealing illegal (and sometimes legal) drugs. Every year I have to talk to at least one girl about making good decisions when it comes to her emotional and bodily health. And when she makes the poor decision in spite of our discussions, I am there to help her "decide" what to do about the consequence. With boys, I generally have the prison discussion - as in you've made a bad decision, you've experienced the consequence. Where are you going from here?
The students come to teachers with their burdens. They trust us to be the voice of wisdom, and to know that when the boundaries in their lives haven't held, new stronger boundaries must be established, even if that means contacting school counselors or law enforcement. How many times have I wondered whether or not I am doing a kid a favor by "doing the right thing" in contacting the necessary enforcers? How many of those kids then go home to a worse circumstance because I've intervened? I rarely see the end result.
I was told that Tim P., one of my students on last year's litmag staff, died Friday. His body was found on Saturday. He overdosed on drugs of some sort. Tim was one of those who was constantly in my room talking about his life and the decisions he was making. In fact, he came by last week. I was annoyed at the time because I had a million things to grade, I was sick from being pregnant, and though I tried to act interested in what he was saying, I was clearly acting. I listened as he told me about some of the good things he was doing with his immense creativity and intellect and was semi-tolerant of some of the bad things. I'm sure I gave him the "teacher look" of disapproval because he hastened to talk about mending the bad things. It was hard for me to not roll my eyes and say, "Tim, Dammit! You are at it AGAIN! What in the hell is it going to take for you to stop making stupid decisions? How many times are you going to come in here for confession when what I say clearly fixes nothing?" But then that isn't my job, right?
When he left, I sort of felt relieved. I didn't say anything negative to him. I didn't establish stronger boundaries for him. I supported his good decisions, and told him that he could come back to visit anytime, though I only half-heartedly meant it. Tim, after all, was a delinquent. He was an adult who continued to make bad decisions, but who clearly needed some sort of edification since he was coming back to his high school teacher for guidance.
I don't think Tim's death was a suicide. And though I know I have no logical reason to feel responsible for it, emotionally I do.
What is my job, exactly? Define it for me! I can't be effective in the classroom if I have no emotional care for their well-beings! Yet, I can't save them all. I can't bring all of them home with me. So what the hell do I do?
Another wall is under construction around my heart simply because I'm human and I can't take on the joys and burdens of loving my students. Hopefully when all of my idealism is gone and the fortification around my heart is such that I don't have any compassion left.. Hopefully then I'll recognize that I need to find a new career. Otherwise, the community will be stuck with another defeated teacher robot.
Tuesday, March 18, 2008
Rumbling Awakening
It is a gorgeous day here in Metroplex, USA. Yes, it is thunderstormy, but it's the right kind of thunderstormy, i.e. the kind without tornadoes or hail. I love the rain, and not just because it gives me an excuse to ignore some of the tasks on my lists. I slow down on rainy days and listen to the thunder, which reminds me about the smallness of my body in this great big universe, and the pitter-patter of rain, which reminds me that my spirit is much bigger (and more powerful) than what the confines of my physicality can contain.
On days like these I like to be still in my cozy sweats, sip hot tea, and allow myself the time to be. There are two things I'd like to share today. The first is that I am constantly amazed by my students. One of them, Julia S., wrote a lovely post on Communitas, our shared litmag blog that promotes the spirit of community. The post is called "For the Price of Two Cups of Tea." Take a look.
Secondly,I decided to pull one of my Thich Nhat Hanh books off of the bookshelf and do a little refresher course on mindfulness. The book I pulled is called Creating True Peace: Ending Violence in Yourself, Your Family, Your Community, and the World. Violence in this instance is not just referring to physical violence, thought that is particularly relevant in this day and age, but it is also talking about the violence we create in ourselves and in others by not being mindful of our words and our actions.
When talking about peace I mean practicing actions that bring about peace and working at cultivating "understanding, love, and compassion, even in the face of misperception or conflict."
Thich Nhat Hanh says, "Peace is the practice of mindfulness, the practice of being aware of our thoughts, our actions, and the consequences of our actions." In practicing mindfulness we, in-turn, nurture our spirits and "diminish violence."
That being said, and without getting too woo woo about things, I have to remind myself of something extremely troubling. That is : "A person who is not happy cannot make peace... To bring about peace, our hearts must be peace."
If you have read any of my blog posts recently, you probably know that most of me is buried alive in anxiety, in exclusion, and in the things that I cannot control (mindlessness). I am, at the moment, anything BUT peaceful. So this is the part where I decide to accept that this mindlessness is a part of me right now, and also that these attitudes of violence against myself (which also affect my community in a violent way) are passing. They will die if I practice mindfulness, even if I have to start at square one. And that's where I am today..back at square one: Breathing.
Here is my meditation from the book today (feel free to join me):
1. Breathing in, I am aware only of my in breath. Breathing out, I am aware only of my out breath... In, Out.
2. Breathing in, I am aware that my in breath grows deep. Breathing out, I am aware that out breath grows deep... Deep, Deep.
3. Breathing in, I am aware that my in breath goes slowly. Breathing out, I am aware that my out breath goes slowly... Slow, Slow
Thank God for rainy days.
On days like these I like to be still in my cozy sweats, sip hot tea, and allow myself the time to be. There are two things I'd like to share today. The first is that I am constantly amazed by my students. One of them, Julia S., wrote a lovely post on Communitas, our shared litmag blog that promotes the spirit of community. The post is called "For the Price of Two Cups of Tea." Take a look.
Secondly,I decided to pull one of my Thich Nhat Hanh books off of the bookshelf and do a little refresher course on mindfulness. The book I pulled is called Creating True Peace: Ending Violence in Yourself, Your Family, Your Community, and the World. Violence in this instance is not just referring to physical violence, thought that is particularly relevant in this day and age, but it is also talking about the violence we create in ourselves and in others by not being mindful of our words and our actions.
When talking about peace I mean practicing actions that bring about peace and working at cultivating "understanding, love, and compassion, even in the face of misperception or conflict."
Thich Nhat Hanh says, "Peace is the practice of mindfulness, the practice of being aware of our thoughts, our actions, and the consequences of our actions." In practicing mindfulness we, in-turn, nurture our spirits and "diminish violence."
That being said, and without getting too woo woo about things, I have to remind myself of something extremely troubling. That is : "A person who is not happy cannot make peace... To bring about peace, our hearts must be peace."
If you have read any of my blog posts recently, you probably know that most of me is buried alive in anxiety, in exclusion, and in the things that I cannot control (mindlessness). I am, at the moment, anything BUT peaceful. So this is the part where I decide to accept that this mindlessness is a part of me right now, and also that these attitudes of violence against myself (which also affect my community in a violent way) are passing. They will die if I practice mindfulness, even if I have to start at square one. And that's where I am today..back at square one: Breathing.
Here is my meditation from the book today (feel free to join me):
1. Breathing in, I am aware only of my in breath. Breathing out, I am aware only of my out breath... In, Out.
2. Breathing in, I am aware that my in breath grows deep. Breathing out, I am aware that out breath grows deep... Deep, Deep.
3. Breathing in, I am aware that my in breath goes slowly. Breathing out, I am aware that my out breath goes slowly... Slow, Slow
Thank God for rainy days.
Sunday, March 16, 2008
Creative or Cracked?
Yesterday I told Rich, with a hint of dipair, that my hairstyle looks Mormon. Honestly, I should have said that it looks Seventh Day Adventist.
But you know what I mean.
I also told him that our toothpaste tastes like surgery.
I failed to mention that our cat's head smells like warm oatmeal, but I think he already knows that.
But you know what I mean.
I also told him that our toothpaste tastes like surgery.
I failed to mention that our cat's head smells like warm oatmeal, but I think he already knows that.
Come Forth, Sweet Listlessness
I've been stupidly (and blindingly) busy lately and with things that only kind of matter, in a do-or-die kind of way. What I mean is that who I am is a list maker and I am working on millions of lists that detail everything from what to buy at the grocery store to how to dismantle an atomic bomb.
Nowhere on the lists does it mention:
- playing outside
- going to see a movie
- reading a book for pleasure
-breathing
Therefore my lists which are supposed to help me manage my time wisely and judiciously are actually (and actively):
- taking over my life
- making me a work junkie
- pushing me to feel completely exhausted and stressed out
And sometimes making the list takes longer than actually completing the tasks on it.
This is Spring Break for me, the operative word being 'break'. It is usually a time for people to be listless, or at least lazy.
But my lists say that I'm supposed to:
- clean house
- set up a nursery
- grade (thousands of papers) and study for school
- clean up the yard
- go to multiple doctor visits
- meet with/set up appointments to meet with day cares
- work on the baby budget
And these are just list categories! Underneath each category is a list of it's own. For example:
Set up nursery (get rid of "junk room" - where all things go that have no other place in my house) (to be done by Tuesday)
- clear off bookshelves
- organize books by stack (sell back, re-shelve, and attic)
- move shelves into front bedroom
- re-shelve books (except the ones that go to the attic or to Half Price Books)
- move dresser from front bedroom into nursery
- move piano out of nursery into... somewhere
- buy paint
- paint the walls
- move twin bed away from window
- buy curtain rods and sheers
- put up sheers
- clean out closet (one stack for charity, one for attic)
- buy a bassinet (But first, continue extensive research on bassinet companies to make sure I get the safest, most ergonomic one for my lifestyle (co-sleeper? 3 in 1? play yard with changing table?). Check Craigs list and Ebay)
All of that is one list! And the logical side of my brain is laughing at me. I mean, how can I get this one list done in one week, much less two days? And how am I supposed to manage this when all of my lists are more or less this detailed and necessary? Plus, oh yeah, I'm 7 months pregnant!!
I think the lists have got to go...or at least get consolidated somehow. I know the world won't end if I can't get it all done, but I DO know that for my sanity, I need to at least complete one of my lists.
Hi. My name is Ginger and I'm a listaholic.
Nowhere on the lists does it mention:
- playing outside
- going to see a movie
- reading a book for pleasure
-breathing
Therefore my lists which are supposed to help me manage my time wisely and judiciously are actually (and actively):
- taking over my life
- making me a work junkie
- pushing me to feel completely exhausted and stressed out
And sometimes making the list takes longer than actually completing the tasks on it.
This is Spring Break for me, the operative word being 'break'. It is usually a time for people to be listless, or at least lazy.
But my lists say that I'm supposed to:
- clean house
- set up a nursery
- grade (thousands of papers) and study for school
- clean up the yard
- go to multiple doctor visits
- meet with/set up appointments to meet with day cares
- work on the baby budget
And these are just list categories! Underneath each category is a list of it's own. For example:
Set up nursery (get rid of "junk room" - where all things go that have no other place in my house) (to be done by Tuesday)
- clear off bookshelves
- organize books by stack (sell back, re-shelve, and attic)
- move shelves into front bedroom
- re-shelve books (except the ones that go to the attic or to Half Price Books)
- move dresser from front bedroom into nursery
- move piano out of nursery into... somewhere
- buy paint
- paint the walls
- move twin bed away from window
- buy curtain rods and sheers
- put up sheers
- clean out closet (one stack for charity, one for attic)
- buy a bassinet (But first, continue extensive research on bassinet companies to make sure I get the safest, most ergonomic one for my lifestyle (co-sleeper? 3 in 1? play yard with changing table?). Check Craigs list and Ebay)
All of that is one list! And the logical side of my brain is laughing at me. I mean, how can I get this one list done in one week, much less two days? And how am I supposed to manage this when all of my lists are more or less this detailed and necessary? Plus, oh yeah, I'm 7 months pregnant!!
I think the lists have got to go...or at least get consolidated somehow. I know the world won't end if I can't get it all done, but I DO know that for my sanity, I need to at least complete one of my lists.
Hi. My name is Ginger and I'm a listaholic.
Friday, March 14, 2008
Black and White Enough
One of my colleagues handed me an article called "Decoding the Debate Over the Blackness of Barak Obama" the other day. It was written a little over a year ago, and it talks about the idea that Barak Obama isn't "black enough" for the African American community and not "white enough" for the Caucasians. It discusses the culture of African Americans and the identity crisis that this country put them through during the years of segregation and how the effects of decisions made then are affecting how folks are trying to define their communities; we know that communities are in direct correlation to political leanings, now more than ever. One of the assertions is that one of the reasons the African Americans are slow to embrace Obama as their presidential candidate is because his ancestry is not one of slavery, therefore they do not consider him to be part of their community. They do, however, tend to be more accepting than the white democrats.
I am not sure about the absolute validity of the ideas in this article, and I am at least pleased to see that the author, Brent Staples, acknowledges that the younger generation is a lot more color blind than any other generation (read the part where it talks about the many who check more than one box for ethnicity on the census questionnaire). I certainly do see some self-inflicted segregation in my very diverse high school. But as far as politics are concerned, I see the black community and the white community embracing Obama for this election. See the caucus pictures from my community (which boasts many colors) for proof.
Waiting to caucus
Rich holds sign "A-E" at the caucus
Doing homework while waiting to caucus
It was a mess, but we all eventually got to cast our votes.
I am not sure about the absolute validity of the ideas in this article, and I am at least pleased to see that the author, Brent Staples, acknowledges that the younger generation is a lot more color blind than any other generation (read the part where it talks about the many who check more than one box for ethnicity on the census questionnaire). I certainly do see some self-inflicted segregation in my very diverse high school. But as far as politics are concerned, I see the black community and the white community embracing Obama for this election. See the caucus pictures from my community (which boasts many colors) for proof.
Waiting to caucus
Rich holds sign "A-E" at the caucus
Doing homework while waiting to caucus
It was a mess, but we all eventually got to cast our votes.
Monday, March 10, 2008
Worth Watching
"Creativity expert Sir Ken Robinson challenges the way we're educating our children. He champions a radical rethink of our school systems, to cultivate creativity and acknowledge multiple types of intelligence."
"Why you should listen to him: Why don't we get the best out of people? Sir Ken Robinson argues that it's because we've been educated to become good workers, rather than creative thinkers. Students with restless minds and bodies -- far from being cultivated for their energy and curiosity -- are ignored or even stigmatized, with terrible consequences."
from www.ted.com
"Why you should listen to him: Why don't we get the best out of people? Sir Ken Robinson argues that it's because we've been educated to become good workers, rather than creative thinkers. Students with restless minds and bodies -- far from being cultivated for their energy and curiosity -- are ignored or even stigmatized, with terrible consequences."
from www.ted.com
Sunday, March 02, 2008
Six Months and Counting
I sort of swore to myself that I wouldn't do this. I don't want to be the girl who shows off her baby bump. I don't need photographic evidence of any any sort of bump, lump, or goiter. In fact, I'm not even fond of the words baby and/or bump, especially when put together. There is no rational reason for this. And I don't begrudge the ones who do take their baby bump pictures, so this is another one of those irrationalities that plagues my personality - just like my extreme loathing of Gloria Estefan or my horrific repugnance of the 'lasso-spank' dance move. Whatever. My dad asked me to post pictures, and I know that you are curious too.
People have definitely started to notice that I'm pregnant, what with all of the good luck/prayer belly rubbing performed by perfect strangers. The bad news is my students have started to yell, "Oh my GOSH! You're HUGE!" The good news is that all of the women on the planet who have ever been six months pregnant think I'm small for being this far along. The best news is that my doctor says everything looks healthy. She probably doesn't know that I threw down on two donuts and a bowl of Lucky Charms this morning. Whatever/Sigh.
Here you go:
Please don't ask me for a video of the birth..
People have definitely started to notice that I'm pregnant, what with all of the good luck/prayer belly rubbing performed by perfect strangers. The bad news is my students have started to yell, "Oh my GOSH! You're HUGE!" The good news is that all of the women on the planet who have ever been six months pregnant think I'm small for being this far along. The best news is that my doctor says everything looks healthy. She probably doesn't know that I threw down on two donuts and a bowl of Lucky Charms this morning. Whatever/Sigh.
Here you go:
Please don't ask me for a video of the birth..
Do as I did
It would be hypocritical of me to expect you guys to vote if I didn't exercise my right as well. So, being the overachiever that I am, I voted early. The last time I voted in a presidential election, we Texans didn't pay much attention to what a primary is, much less about platforms and policies. We lived in a country that basically said, "Hey we're feeling a little uncomfortable. That Bush guy - he's a crack-up with all of his noo-cyoo-lur speech and all. But whatever. CSI Miami is on. I wonder what that Horatio will say next. Pass me another Keystone." We laughed through the hilarity of dangling chads*. He he. They said "dangling" and "Chad." And though some of us did make the trek to the voting booth (I remember taking a pleasant stroll to mine), there wasn't nearly this amount of enthusiasm or interest in the election. I think, as Democrat Texans (if I can include myself in this group), we assumed our vote wouldn't matter anyway. And we were pretty much right.
This year is a much different scene. Even at early voting in this primary presidential election, the lines to participate went out of the door and into the parking lot. You're supposed to vote early so that you can "avoid the lines" on the actual election day. People were holding their voter registration cards close to their persons, nervously checking to see that they were current and signed. Though polite, you could feel a little bit of tension in the air... or maybe it was anxiety.. enthusiasm? I noticed that when folks were choosing their ballots^, they would study the "how to" flier before going to the booth, so that they would know exactly how the new voting machines work. I mostly heard the word "Democrat" with a couple of "Republican's" as people were filing in and choosing their ballots, not unexpected seeing as the Republican nominee has pretty much (but not officially) been selected. But I also wondered if Texas really is as Republican as I think it is, or if the Democrats in this state have been lazy (or preoccupied with daily life).
Anyway, I was extremely cautious in the booth and felt the weight of what I was doing. I made my decisions, checked them, confirmed them, and waited for the waving American Flag icon that let me know that my vote had been cast. I took a deep breath and hoped that I made the right decision for my life and for all of the people in my community, especially the ones who chose not to vote. When I left, I was disappointed that I didn't receive a sticker that said "I voted". I imagined that they ran out of them since so many folks were showing up to vote early.
The cool thing is that on Tuesday (MARCH 4th), the day of official voting, I am going to participate in my very first Caucus, the second part of the primary election (also called step two of "The Texas 2 Step"). I'm not sure exactly what to expect, except that I watched some of the Caucuses on TV this year and I know there is a lot of hand raising for "all for's" and "all opposed's". I expect this will be a community building event, and I am completely excited for it. I wonder if they'll let me take pictures..
So, go vote on Tuesday. Participate in the Caucus. This is a fantastic time for our state and for our country! And let me know that you have! We can celebrate together.
* My pregnant brain wondered how many people in Florida named their babies Chad that year.^One has to declare which ballot he/she wants (Republican or Democrat) before going into the booth. 'One becomes "affiliated" with [that] party... for that primary year'.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)