The last thing I heard last night before drifting off to sleep was about Obama becoming the first African American president. The first thing I heard this morning upon waking up was a discussion on the probability of McCain pulling an upset in an election of historic proportions. Either way, someone is about to have a life some of us never dare to have, and the other person is about to feel a loss so great I could not even fathom recovery. For me, after many months of indecision and voter angst, I am relieved it is finally November 4. I love the smell of change in the morning.
I’m a naturalized citizen so perhaps the right to vote is a bigger deal to me than some people I know. Voting from California also sometimes feels anticlimactic, but I still want to cast my vote. If I have the luxury of freely criticizing my government, the least I can do is go out and vote. If anything, I enjoy watching the human process at polling places. There’s always an undercurrent of excitement (especially in presidential elections) and people speak in hushed tones, almost out of reverence for their decisions. After the heated mudslinging during the campaign–especially among friends and families who feel so strongly about their positions and can’t understand why their own families don’t share the same views–election day is a wonderful respite…for having arrived at our very own, personal choices.
But enough about politics. You won’t hear me on my soapbox here. I’ll show you where I went to vote, though…it was at the Church of the Angels, a beautiful, small church where they always film movies around here:
I thought this sign was great because I saw Vietnamese on it!!
So anyway, this morning I did wake up with a clear head and knew which way I would finally vote. But when I turned the page and looked at the names of the presidential candidates, my hands actually trembled. Inhale, exhale. Punch the ballot. I am an undecided voter no more.