Fuck Be the Coming of The New Year
Dec. 31st, 2012 11:18 pm![[personal profile]](http://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
narcississyDoing the Vertigo-sashay down the runway, I'm going to bar entry to this supposed New Year as much as I possibly can. It's time for me to be the Boehner in this "fiscal cliff of time progression" battle -- even though Time has slightly more pull than our president does.
I will most certainly not allow for the passage of 2012 without having posted this pre-written entry from nearly two months ago on the day of the election:
Early to bed, early to rise, makes a girl healthy, wealthy, and wise. This is exactly why I am wealthy in nothing but valetudinary fears. Apparently I made a wise decision today, though, so one out of three isn't terrible in the way that it isn't zero out of three.
My day of wisdom started this morning when I took to my feet and strenuous exercise of walking two minutes to the polling station -- at an hour that's only conducive to me having to register a formal query to myself as to whether I was even myself at the moment. (Apparently I was.) Under the assumption that there was ubiquitous Election Day congestion at the polling stations, I decided to check out for the day before the asscrack of dawn so that I could check back in at the asscrack of dawn and suffer my body with such usurious exercise as to quasi-kill me on my way to the ultimate exercise -- the Nirvana exercise, even: that of my right to vote.
So upon arriving after that two-minute walk that was a single ATP away from bringing about my collapse in the middle of the parking lot and bringing this region of the nation to its first seismic registry, I was pleasantly surprised to have seen what looked like an empty church. Had it not been for the White Sheet Road of signs to the land of Ballot Oz (and for the last-minute wholly-superfluous Obama-Biden pushers handing out superfluous Obama-Biden [plus some local politician] postcards), I would have thought that my relatively early rising before the eighth hour had been in vain. There was no congestion whatsoever; there was a two-to-three-minute wait, a registration confirmation of less than a minute, and the write-in process which took very little time, as I was really only there to vote for the next president and vice-president.
Thankfully I had gone in there determined to vote for a specific candidate. There were many who were still undecided until the last minute -- caught in the impossible gridlock of whom to give support in the polls. Before the previous month, I was also one of these, and could have voted the opposite of how I did today. However, after some transitive properties and value-shaping/malleating, I ended up voting for what seems to have been the wiser choice: the incumbent, Barack Obama. It only seemed right for my girl- and gurl (gays, that is, the ones about whom I even gaf, countable on two hands) compeers and, by the transitive property, for me.
The pot(s) of gold at the end of the tunnel were bittersweet: an underwhelming "I voted!" sticker, but some buttermilk cookies (obviously the rather sweet part). Ratiocinating away my indulgence in these dulcet delicacies with the excuse that I super-endurance exercised there for a whole two minutes, I savored that quite obviously homemade cookie that I took. Just kidding; there was no ratiocination, for I couldn't have been more insouciant about my having adiposal reserves in hidden silos of uncharted territory in the universe, where not even the Daleks have trekked/invaded/prolificated/ensconced themselves. Anyway, I then proceeded to Facebook to deceive the masses of zero people who read my vichyssoise-veering-verbose updates, into thinking that my vote was one for the R-money...and not two for the (second) show.
Clearly I made the right electoral choice. I mean, had I voted Red anyway, my vote would have sat in the benthopelagic depths along with the other Red votes that sank to the nadir of this very deep Blue sea-state. However, there seem to have been signs throughout today indicating that I had voted correctly. Rewards came in the very saccharine form of post-Halloween candy drastically marked down (I had finally found not one, but two -- and then later three and four -- bags of the mellowcreme pumpkins for which I had ransacked many a Target); in the form of gratuitous food at a multi-floor election results viewing on my alma mater's campus (the Fox/Republican viewing room was flooded with those who, like I, were there for the [delicious] gratuitous food...wow how Democratic/liberal); and in the form of that good feeling that overcame me when Barack was the projected winner on the screen in the CNN/Democratic viewing room. Unfortunately there were no parties (or people really) of which I knew, so I headed to the library, talked to my friend about what had just happened for about an hour, and am staying here the night with a few books.
These next four years should be interesting/scary/prosperous, should I live to see all four of them.
BREAKING!: I totally dove head-first over the fiscal cliff of time progression, as can be witnessed by the date and time of this post (when it was started) -- and noticing when this post is actually posting (about 30 hours later).
I will most certainly not allow for the passage of 2012 without having posted this pre-written entry from nearly two months ago on the day of the election:
Early to bed, early to rise, makes a girl healthy, wealthy, and wise. This is exactly why I am wealthy in nothing but valetudinary fears. Apparently I made a wise decision today, though, so one out of three isn't terrible in the way that it isn't zero out of three.
My day of wisdom started this morning when I took to my feet and strenuous exercise of walking two minutes to the polling station -- at an hour that's only conducive to me having to register a formal query to myself as to whether I was even myself at the moment. (Apparently I was.) Under the assumption that there was ubiquitous Election Day congestion at the polling stations, I decided to check out for the day before the asscrack of dawn so that I could check back in at the asscrack of dawn and suffer my body with such usurious exercise as to quasi-kill me on my way to the ultimate exercise -- the Nirvana exercise, even: that of my right to vote.
So upon arriving after that two-minute walk that was a single ATP away from bringing about my collapse in the middle of the parking lot and bringing this region of the nation to its first seismic registry, I was pleasantly surprised to have seen what looked like an empty church. Had it not been for the White Sheet Road of signs to the land of Ballot Oz (and for the last-minute wholly-superfluous Obama-Biden pushers handing out superfluous Obama-Biden [plus some local politician] postcards), I would have thought that my relatively early rising before the eighth hour had been in vain. There was no congestion whatsoever; there was a two-to-three-minute wait, a registration confirmation of less than a minute, and the write-in process which took very little time, as I was really only there to vote for the next president and vice-president.
Thankfully I had gone in there determined to vote for a specific candidate. There were many who were still undecided until the last minute -- caught in the impossible gridlock of whom to give support in the polls. Before the previous month, I was also one of these, and could have voted the opposite of how I did today. However, after some transitive properties and value-shaping/malleating, I ended up voting for what seems to have been the wiser choice: the incumbent, Barack Obama. It only seemed right for my girl- and gurl (gays, that is, the ones about whom I even gaf, countable on two hands) compeers and, by the transitive property, for me.
The pot(s) of gold at the end of the tunnel were bittersweet: an underwhelming "I voted!" sticker, but some buttermilk cookies (obviously the rather sweet part). Ratiocinating away my indulgence in these dulcet delicacies with the excuse that I super-endurance exercised there for a whole two minutes, I savored that quite obviously homemade cookie that I took. Just kidding; there was no ratiocination, for I couldn't have been more insouciant about my having adiposal reserves in hidden silos of uncharted territory in the universe, where not even the Daleks have trekked/invaded/prolificated/ensconced themselves. Anyway, I then proceeded to Facebook to deceive the masses of zero people who read my vichyssoise-veering-verbose updates, into thinking that my vote was one for the R-money...and not two for the (second) show.
Clearly I made the right electoral choice. I mean, had I voted Red anyway, my vote would have sat in the benthopelagic depths along with the other Red votes that sank to the nadir of this very deep Blue sea-state. However, there seem to have been signs throughout today indicating that I had voted correctly. Rewards came in the very saccharine form of post-Halloween candy drastically marked down (I had finally found not one, but two -- and then later three and four -- bags of the mellowcreme pumpkins for which I had ransacked many a Target); in the form of gratuitous food at a multi-floor election results viewing on my alma mater's campus (the Fox/Republican viewing room was flooded with those who, like I, were there for the [delicious] gratuitous food...wow how Democratic/liberal); and in the form of that good feeling that overcame me when Barack was the projected winner on the screen in the CNN/Democratic viewing room. Unfortunately there were no parties (or people really) of which I knew, so I headed to the library, talked to my friend about what had just happened for about an hour, and am staying here the night with a few books.
These next four years should be interesting/scary/prosperous, should I live to see all four of them.
BREAKING!: I totally dove head-first over the fiscal cliff of time progression, as can be witnessed by the date and time of this post (when it was started) -- and noticing when this post is actually posting (
