I spend most of my time at home. In fact, by the time Melody gets home, I'm so antsy to leave that I practically run her over. That's only a slight exaggeration, which she can confirm with only the smallest of eye rolls, I'm sure.
While I'm at home, I watch TV - and write. I need noise. I need it. I can't concentrate without noise. This leaves two choices: music or TV. I can only write to some music. Not some types, some music. Let me explain. I can write to Flogging Mary's "Light of a Fading Star" but none of their other songs. I can write to Liz Phair's "Why Can't I," Little Digger" or "It's Sweet" but none of her other songs. I can write to several of Avril Lavigne's songs, including, "Complicated," "He Wasn't," and "Things I'll Never Say." But even though I have those on a separate section in my iTunes, I can still only write to those songs sometimes... sometimes I can't do it, and I have to change the song in frustration. This disrupts my writing pattern twice - once when I hear it, and once when I have to change it. That's no good. That makes TV better - especially if it's a TV show I know well, like Smallville. TV is easy to drown out. (Isn't that awful?)
Anyway, one of my standard shows is "Little House On the Prairie."
In one of today's episodes, Mary Ingalls, Nellie Olsen, and a little boy who is disabled are running for class president. The boys figured that the girls would split the votes for Mary and Nellie, and all the boys would vote for the boy. I don't actually know what happened, but it ends all happy and the boy wins class president, chatta chatta. Like I said, it's drowned out. I don't pay much attention.
But today's episode brought back a crazy memory from elementary school.
My best friend, Jessica Kadlec, was running for student body president. I was soooo proud of her, and I knew, just knew, that she would do an excellent job. And if she'd gotten the position, she would have. But she didn't get it.
She promised things that could actually be done - but not things that many of the students really cared about. The guy who won, who probably didn't do anything he said he would because he simply didn't have the power, and whose name I've forgotten by now, promised all kinds of of ridiculous, but enticing things.
In elementary school, you don't really see a problem with asking someone who they voted for, and I remember asking my friend, Anna on the way home from school if she'd voted for Jessica. I mean, I was sure she had: I'd told everyone, literally everyone, that they should, because she'd do such a good job.
Anna, though, told me she hadn't, and when I incredulously asked why, she said, "Because, we can't have a girl president. Girls can't be president. They shouldn't even run. It just isn't done."
Funny, isn't it? I didn't see it then for what it was: an excuse. It makes me wonder when we vote on a larger scale: for our nation's president. Are we voting for who would truly make the better candidate, or the person who promises us the things that make us happy?
Sorry this was such a long post. Peace Out.