If I were to spend the same amount of time on this entry that I spent filling out the census, I'd be done after this sentence. If I were to invest an amount of time in this entry that lined up with how awesomely important it felt to be filling out the census, it would never get done. See, I love this country. I'm not kidding. I got really annoyed when I had to study history from other countries to get my undergrad degree (before I realized how interesting that was too). I'm all about the red, white and blue.
Oh, to be clutched in his icy talons of freedom.
It goes without saying that I get totally geeked about doing American-y type stuff. I was so excited the first time I got to vote that... well... this is a little embarrassing. I kind of half-walked, half-ran to my polling place (the Michigan Union) and I may have done a faceplant on the stairs leading into the building. Did you know they can't stop you from voting even if you're bleeding, as long as it doesn't appear life threatening or disorienting? I do.
I'm also, as many people know, a slightly bigger fan of the blue than the red (if you get my meaning) *cough*Democrat*cough*. So when Obama was running in 2008 I was, ya know, more than a little inappropriately infatuated with his candidacy. I was also completely appropriately excited about his promises of reforms, but as far as I'm concerned those are two different things.
Above: Realistic depiction of daily presidential activities.
There was something new, different, and oddly sexy about the census that I couldn't put my finger on at the time. Then I realized - filling out the census combines my love of this country with my need for personal recognition for even the smallest accomplishment. I'm 25, I live in America and I filled out a piece of paper - praise me! See, the census lives forever. It goes into the national archives and generations from now my progeny can know where I lived when I was 25 and maybe decide to visit the house and put up a memorial plaque. I don't know, I mean, its up to them, really. Maybe something nice. Gold finish. Classy.
I wish somebody understood how I was feeling about this. Wait! There is someone. The incomparable Steve Martin in the Jerk summed it up quite nicely.
I'm somebody now... I'm in print.
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