The Beautiful Obamas |
Last night I watched the election returns from the comfort of my bedroom with my honey and my feline overlord, Emma. I was so nervous that my entire body shook from head to toe. Since I'd promised myself a thirty-day hiatus from alcohol only three days earlier (I know. Dumbest. Thing. Ever.), I had an epiphany: I was screwed. No wine to calm my jumpy nerves? What the hell was I going to do? Then I remembered I had a certain something left over from when my ex left me for another woman and nearly ruined my life a little over two years ago. Ativan, sweet, Ativan, you're the queen of my soul... Okay, that is a ridiculous exaggeration. No drug is the queen of my soul, merely a pawn in my inability to control my own emotions. However, as I'd done two years earlier, I placed a lot of faith in the powers of a small, white pill.
Magical Goblins of the Universe, Edward, Bella, and Jacob |
Once the calming drug kicked in... Oh, wait! It never did! I shook just as much before taking the damn thing as after, so really, what was the point? There wasn't one. It was then that I realized I had to suck it up, watch the returns, and pray to the Magical Goblins of the Universe (MGU for short - don't mock me. They're real. That's them over there to the right. Edward, Bella, and Jacob Goblin.) that I wouldn't drop dead of a stress-induced heart attack before the night was over.
Anyone who knows me either in "real" life or via the wonders of social media (shout out to Facebook and Twitter, yo!) knows I'm a political junkie. If I had a dollar for every RWNJ (Right Wing Nut Job) I argued with on Twitter regarding Obama's policies and how they are working, or how women's rights are vital to society, or how gays have just as much right to be miserable in marriage as straight people, or how climate change actually exists and isn't a message from God opposing gay marriage and abortion, or how women should be paid the same as men for the same work, or that who those in the military love is their own damn business, or that there is, in fact, no such thing as "legitimate rape", I'd be richer than Donald Trump, the egomaniac who kept trying, and failing, to inject himself into the campaign.
Adding to the insanity of the evening was the fact that I knew a certain talented and beautiful agent was planning on spending part of Election Day reading my YA manuscript**. That, combined with the prospect of Mittens in the White House, made me feel like the blood in my veins had been replaced with Mexican jumping beans.
Thankfully, now the election is over and the best man has most definitely won. The jumping beans have retreated and I can type these words without the need of pharmaceutical assistance. I'm grateful to the MGU that sanity prevailed and that the bigots and religious zealots have lost to the open minded, inclusive, and forward thinkers among us.
President Obama is a blessing to us all - a blessing born from the goodness in our own hearts and the visions for a better future for our children. Hopefully, the Mitch McConnell's of the world who vowed Obama's failure from Day One have learned a useful lesson: working together always trumps (hah!) working against one another.
Part of my version of The American Dream |
(**Turns out said beautiful, talented agent didn't get to my book yesterday. She had editing and kids and an election to deal with, blah, blah, blah. She's reading it today, though. Damn, I wish I hadn't made myself that stupid not-drinking-alcohol-for-thirty-days promise! What was I thinking? I must have been drunk.)
I'd love to hear your thoughts on the election, gay marriage, Mexican jumping beans, The Donald, or anything else you'd like to share.
I'd love to hear your thoughts on the election, gay marriage, Mexican jumping beans, The Donald, or anything else you'd like to share.
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