Leave Me Alone, I Hate You

In the wake of all the winning and losing that elections inevitably bring, I would like to write about the fine art of losing gracefully.

Well, actually, I would like to write about how I know nothing about this fine art. I am a sore loser. I have been a sore loser my whole life, as evidenced by this diary entry from 6th grade:

May 5th, 1982

Today Leslie beat me in a flute challenge in band. I'm better than her. It's the truth. I'm not just saying that. I truly am. I'm going to prove it too! I just don't think I can stand being 2nd best to that bitch! She's so god damn perfect! I can't stand it. She is so flat though, I can see why no boys like her. She's also so scummy. If she would squeeze her hair, we wouldn't have an oil shortage. She also thinks Louise likes her. Ha! Louise thinks she's a pain in the ass! And she is!!! As of now Leslie is not my friend! It's not like she was or ever will be.

At least she's moving soon.

Leslie was my friend. My very good friend, in fact. She was flat-chested, yes, but we were 11 years old -- we were ALL flat chested. While I think it bears noting that I showed an early concern about political issues such as the oil shortage, Leslie's hair was no more or less greasy than my own. And I'm sure that Louise (my older sister) was very fond of the flat chested young flutist.

I took defeat very personally then, and I still do. It's an ugly trait, and part of a lifelong obsession I have with fairness. I'm filled from toe to skull with secret, evil thoughts about everyone who has ever wronged me. Vengeance will be mine, I am convinced.

I keep a list.

No, don't worry, I'm not furiously scribbling names in the back of my copy of Catcher in the Rye --- mine is a mental list. It's an ode to petty injustices. The parties I wasn't invited to, the boys who never called me back. Promotions I never got, and the boss who once threw a dictionary at my head, yelling: "Here! You need this more than I do!" The girl who kissed the boy she SO knew I liked. That asshole who cut me off on the freeway, then gave me the finger. The 19 year old girls wearing $1000 shoes who blatantly litter and giggle when I reprimand them. People who cut in line. Good looking people. People who use "summer" as a verb. People younger than me who are incredibly successful. (yikes, that portion of the list is getting looooong)

You get the picture. Perpetually outraged.

I know, I know. Forgive. Forget. Be a better person. Rise above it all. Hugs not drugs. Blah, blah, blah.

I'm sorry, that's just not how I roll.

I'm not exactly sure how I'm going to right all these wrongs, but I figure it's good to have goals.

Plus, I really was the best damn flute player in the 6th grade band!

Seriously.

I'm not just saying that...

Ask Louise!

In honor of this historic day, I offer you a retrospective of my election manias throughout the years:

10/20/92
I saw Bill Clinton speak in Daley Plaza downtown. It was amazing. There were over 10,000 people there. Everyone was psyched. Jim Belushi got up and introduced Ron Brown, then Mayor Daley introduced Carol Mosely Braun - then she introduced Al Gore. He was a great speaker. He had the whole crowd chanting along with him. Both the candidates wives were there, they spoke briefly then Bill took the stage and talked about "change" (economics, education, etc.) Then Michael Bolton sang "When I'm Back on My Feet Again" and dedicated it to everyone who was going to get their piece of the American dream back with Bill Clinton as president. Then they played the song "Power to the People" over the speakers. I know its all a big publicity thing, but I ate it up! It was absolutely thrilling to be a part of a crowd so packed with emotion. They really made you feel like you were on the edge of a new era. Bush's days are numbered!

Ahhh, yes. There is nothing quite like your "first time." So glad mine came complete with Jim Belushi and a stirring soundtrack of Michael Bolton tunes. Really, how could I not be psyched?!

Clinton: Round Two...

11/5/96

Clinton has won the Presidential election. No shocker there. What strikes me as a shocker is that 3 years ago I was in Washington, D.C. God what twisted road brought me here?

"Here" meant Los Angeles. Clearly I had lost my youthful enthusiasm for politics at that point, and instead turned my attentions to cultivating a deep and abiding lack of self confidence.

Oh Michael Bolton, where are you now? Why have you forsaken me?

12/18/00

Election termination has arrived. Just a few days ago, Al Gore conceded the Presidency to idiot-elect George W. Bush. In his speech Gore was a gentleman, a diplomat, a grown up -- and HEY AMERICA, he was THE WINNER! God Bless America...you can't win for winning. So I write this so that I will remember how ANGRY I am. How distrustful I feel about the "Supreme" court. This has been a disgraceful display by Republicans who have acted as though they have somehow won by a landslide rather than by a technicality...(insert more talk of this faux landslide)...So FINE. TAKE, and I do mean TAKE the presidency. But know that we know the truth. We won. The Clinton era is NOT over. And we will be watching.

AH-HA! The political passion has returned! But it is accompanied NOT by wide-eyed optimism, but rather vengeful rage and an inexplicable desire to "watch". And believe me, I did some hard core watching during this administration. (note to former self: that Clinton era was so over.)

11/6/02

So, the Republicans win the goddam senate. Good lord. Where is the justice? I HATE the world. Hate it. I feel so separate from my government. My God, I can't even remember hope. Can't remember why I ever went to D.C. BAH!

Bah, indeed! There were some dark times for me over the past 8 years.

Sadly, I didn't keep a good record of my reactions to the 2004 election (it was all a haze of "security moms" and swiftboating), but it's safe to say I wasn't pleased.

What I do remember about the convention in 2004 was a speech given by a guy named Barack Obama. I could never navigate traffic quickly enough to get home in time to watch the coverage, so I would slip into my company's conference room to watch. It was a speech that rattled the rafters in all the best ways. And when it was over, I realized I was no longer alone in the room. Our night janitor was in the doorway watching too.

"That kid is gonna be president someday," he said.

Then he went back to work, end of conversation.

Four years later, and we'll see if that proves to be true. I hope he does win. Not because I think he can solve all the world's problems and will never disappoint me...but because it feels good to trade in the vengeful rage for a dose of wide-eyed optimism again.

I may even listen to some Michael Bolton.