Random Saturdayness

I so badly want to play with the incredibly talented folks at the CSS Zen Garden. I've spent most of the day looking through the designs during my off moments. I don't expect to have time for that for a very long time, though, and when i do, I'll probably realize again that I just don't have it in me. I think it would be excellent practice, though, so I'm going to try to give it a shot sometime. I think the most liberating aspect of the project is that you don't have to give a flying fig about useability, accessibility or even readability. I really don't even *really* like the design phase of web design normally. That's what I've spent the day doing, though. I'll show it off when I get it done, I guess. I'm rather pleased with how well I've stayed focused today--too bad I can't always do it that way.

We went to play cards again tonight. My evil mother baked cookies and I ate way too many, which left me feeling queasy and ill. I have an indulgent husband, though.. he let me turn the air conditioning on, and that made me feel much better. Feels kind of ridiculous to have the a/c set to 70 when the outside temperature is 36, but I feel almost human again so I won't complain. Wouldn't that be a first? If I didn't complain? :)

Oh, wow. If I was an artist, this is who I would want to be. (Yep, took another break to look through more designs and ended up here.) There's something about these that I really love. This one is my favorite. It actually makes me feel a little shivery--isn't it odd how you sometimes react so strongly to something that you've seen or heard? It always makes me wonder how and why we develop the way we do.. but I'm not going to get into that tonight.. too sleepy. I just like the art, that's all.

Apparently that's all I had to say--I've been sitting here for ages trying to come up with something else. Everyone is quiet this weekend--hope it's going well. Night. :)

The Election Incident.

Today, I'm going to write about politics, and I'm not going to apologize for it. I'm going to write about a time when the world was bright with promise. Given the nastiness of politics right now, I think it would be refreshing to revisit a time when there was hope for the future.

Yes, let's talk about 1988.

I was nine years old and in a south Georgia elementary school when it happened--the presidential elections. It was kind of a big deal because these were the first elections that I could ever remember happening--Ronald Reagan was the only president I could remember. My class followed them halfheartedly. We didn't really discuss the issues--I'm not sure we were aware that there were issues, but we talked about the candidates and the electoral process to some degree. When Mrs. Johnson announced that we would be participating in the election, too, in the week preceeding the real election, we thought we had died and gone to political heaven. The voting machines were in the cafeteria in preparation for Election Day, and all the teachers had permission to take their students in to use them as part of the learning process. We knew it meant something more, though--for the first time in our lives, the country was asking us for our opinion.

No real election has been taken so seriously before or since that chilly November morning. We solemnly filed into the cafeteria, waiting in line eagerly while classmates filed into the booths. Tan curtains separated us from them, those important vote-casters fulfilling their national duty. When at last it was my turn, I inspected the machine for as long as I dared, knowing that there were others waiting but feeling consumed by the importance of what I was about to do. Then I cast my vote for Michael Dukakis.

I could mention the reasons that went into my choice. I could discuss the man's politics, his appearance, his ideals. I could say that I voted for him because my dad was planning to. I could say any number of things to defend myself, but the outcome will remain the same. Late that afternoon, the votes were tallied and the decision announced.

George Bush: 29
Michael Dukakis: 1

This incident is still famous in my family because I was utterly devestated. I cried my heart out when I got home because I was the only one who voted against the man who would become our 41st president. If it had been a relatively even split, I wouldn't have cared about losing, but to be the only one was something else entirely. The others quickly deduced who the unlucky vote-caster was (a chorus of "It wasn't me!" began, and when one person remains silent, even nine-year-olds can figure out who the subversive must be) and began teasing me unmercifully. I tried to brush off their comments by declaring that I had only voted for him due to his cool name, but they weren't fooled. I had voted for him for a hundred different reasons, but none of them were about my preference for unusual names. My vote had been heard and summarily dismissed as ludicrous by 29 other nine-year-olds. The insult was deep.

The real elections went similarly, and I never did learn to like George Bush after that. Perhaps that event even nudged me along the path to the political ideals that I now hold of my own accord. I suppose there was a lesson to be learned there, but at the time, my ego was entirely too bruised to see it.

I see the pattern now, though--in 1988, my vote didn't count.

Twelve years later in 2000, my vote still didn't count.

In 2004, though, I still have hope.