I vote in person.
I don’t deal with mail-in, absentee, voting. I really like to go, and vote at my polling place.
Somehow that makes it seem more real to me. It raises the stakes, when you’re standing there, awkwardly crouched over a plastic table corner, trying to bubble in your circles just so. Somehow age regressing to elementary school, and worried you’ll get docked voting points for improper bubbling. And lately, sneaking peaks at your iPhone, looking up that one last proposition because how in the heck did it get on there and what was I planning on voting.
Some of my friends, the small and growing number that have children, take their kids to the polls with them. One has been doing it every year she’s voted since having them, just to instill in them that it is their civic duty, and something that they can look forward to when the time comes. So neat to me.
And just like those kids, I love getting the sticker. I proudly stuck it to my lapel, and paraded around in my cheap blazer like I was a senate nominee.
I won’t be sad to see the election done. I’m tired of the politicking, tired of disliking some of my friends and relatives, tired of the ire and the weird fiery opinions that politics brings up in me, when few other things do. It will be nice to have my cell phone back for personal calls, and my commercial breaks back for other forms of annoyance. But if you’re going to get selectively passionate about something, politics is a place to start I suppose.
And besides, you get a sticker.