My lips are sealed (on the election)
Election Day is nearing and even I’m getting caught in the vortex of hype and predictions.
Politics isn’t my thing. I hate politicians. But, despite my apparent apathy, I do have my opinions. I have a strict code of keeping them to myself, though. My dad taught me that. He said you should never tell anyone who or what you’re voting for until after you’ve cast your ballot. I like sitting back, watching and listening to arguments and debates, keeping my lips sealed tight. Sometimes, though, I break my silence. It’s rare and happens only when I’m drunk or in the mood to play devil’s advocate.
For those of you wondering (like the one person who reads this blog — thanks, Courtney), I’m a liberal independent. I’ve always registered as an independent. I have my reasons, but my lips are sealed.
This election has peaked my curiosity since I’m in a new location. Everything is different. The names are different, the agendas are different, and the mood is different. You don’t see many campaign commercials in Iowa attacking a candidate’s position on off shore oil drilling. It’s been interesting to see how things work here.
In Iowa City I’m sure every second or third house has a Chet Culver sign in the front yard, as well as those for other Democratic candidates. In Santa Cruz it’s a little different story. There are signs for and against Prop H, Prop G, Prop 85, Prop 1B. There are also lots of candidate signs. And, even though I’ve looked and looked, I haven’t found one sign related to the campaign for governor. I guess the race has been a foregone conclusion all year. I’m sure some Californians are apt to ask, “Phil Angelides? Who?” Everyone likes voting for a winner. Shit, I’d vote…oops. Almost slipped.
Angela, my roommate, has started canvassing for the Proposition G campaign. Prop G is a local measure to increase the minimum wage in Santa Cruz to $9.25 an hour. That’s a quarter more than I’m making at Goodwill (though Manpower is taking six or seven bucks of what I’m really making, leaving me the rest). Supporters say the increase promotes a better living standard, and opponents purport the increase may hurt small, family businesses. It’s the hot topic around town, and has generated the most interest.
For the past two weeks Angela has been placing a sign in our front yard. After one or two nights it gets stolen. Angela thinks members of the “No on G” campaign take it in the cover of night, as if they have a personal vendetta against her. She’s adamant about it, complaining to me at dinner when I’m in the kitchen making a sandwich. She even called and emailed their campaign headquarters, asking how they can claim to be defenders of family businesses when they sneak around and steal private property. When she’s done venting to me and walks back to her room I can’t help but laugh. I think it’s funny. In reality it’s probably a bunch of high school kids trying to have some mindless fun. One night, while reading in the front room, I heard a high pitched laugh in the street. The sign rattled. I smiled.
But the irony of this election, with my increased interest, is I didn’t register to vote. I still don’t have a California driver’s license. I don’t need one to vote, but I was afraid the DMV might cross check with voting records and know to fine me when I do get one. I was supposed to get a California license ten days after I got a job. Oops. I’m working on it, though.
Politics isn’t my thing. I hate politicians. But, despite my apparent apathy, I do have my opinions. I have a strict code of keeping them to myself, though. My dad taught me that. He said you should never tell anyone who or what you’re voting for until after you’ve cast your ballot. I like sitting back, watching and listening to arguments and debates, keeping my lips sealed tight. Sometimes, though, I break my silence. It’s rare and happens only when I’m drunk or in the mood to play devil’s advocate.
For those of you wondering (like the one person who reads this blog — thanks, Courtney), I’m a liberal independent. I’ve always registered as an independent. I have my reasons, but my lips are sealed.
This election has peaked my curiosity since I’m in a new location. Everything is different. The names are different, the agendas are different, and the mood is different. You don’t see many campaign commercials in Iowa attacking a candidate’s position on off shore oil drilling. It’s been interesting to see how things work here.
In Iowa City I’m sure every second or third house has a Chet Culver sign in the front yard, as well as those for other Democratic candidates. In Santa Cruz it’s a little different story. There are signs for and against Prop H, Prop G, Prop 85, Prop 1B. There are also lots of candidate signs. And, even though I’ve looked and looked, I haven’t found one sign related to the campaign for governor. I guess the race has been a foregone conclusion all year. I’m sure some Californians are apt to ask, “Phil Angelides? Who?” Everyone likes voting for a winner. Shit, I’d vote…oops. Almost slipped.
Angela, my roommate, has started canvassing for the Proposition G campaign. Prop G is a local measure to increase the minimum wage in Santa Cruz to $9.25 an hour. That’s a quarter more than I’m making at Goodwill (though Manpower is taking six or seven bucks of what I’m really making, leaving me the rest). Supporters say the increase promotes a better living standard, and opponents purport the increase may hurt small, family businesses. It’s the hot topic around town, and has generated the most interest.
For the past two weeks Angela has been placing a sign in our front yard. After one or two nights it gets stolen. Angela thinks members of the “No on G” campaign take it in the cover of night, as if they have a personal vendetta against her. She’s adamant about it, complaining to me at dinner when I’m in the kitchen making a sandwich. She even called and emailed their campaign headquarters, asking how they can claim to be defenders of family businesses when they sneak around and steal private property. When she’s done venting to me and walks back to her room I can’t help but laugh. I think it’s funny. In reality it’s probably a bunch of high school kids trying to have some mindless fun. One night, while reading in the front room, I heard a high pitched laugh in the street. The sign rattled. I smiled.
But the irony of this election, with my increased interest, is I didn’t register to vote. I still don’t have a California driver’s license. I don’t need one to vote, but I was afraid the DMV might cross check with voting records and know to fine me when I do get one. I was supposed to get a California license ten days after I got a job. Oops. I’m working on it, though.
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