I'm crying a little

I drank the kool-aid, this is not a secret. I watched the Obama-mercial tonight and even though it's not particularly sophisticated or appealing to my demographic, or relevant even, because I've been in the tank for a while and this hasn't been in question, but still. Still. I have such heart-swelling. Such ache. Such pride. Because maybe, maybe there will be a national leadership I can claim as my own, as representing me and my friends and our values and the things that are important to me. Maybe soon Canadians will sew American flags onto their backpacks when they travel in Europe so that they will be associated with our astonishing return to grace, with the overwhelming joy that is imminent. God, I hope it is imminent. I believe. I hope. I must not count chickens.

My tutee told me about his mother's friend, who last time around in 2004 said he would bring Canadian immigration papers with him to the election night party. This year he is bringing a hand gun because there is no consolation prize. There is nothing to turn to. We must win.

Now, personally, emigrating North is no longer an option. Please, American electorate, do not defy the polls, do not fail me now. I tear up a little because I love. Because I am not lost. Because I am so cynical and too cool for school and smarter than idealism and still I love. Still, I want. I hope. Jesus, I am the last person to buy what they're selling and yet I have. I do. I hope.