Twas Brillig

Brillig (with a hint of desperation): Did you get the computer to connect?

Hubby: No, the connection’s down. I can’t figure out why.

Brillig: WHAT?? It can’t be down. No, no, no, no, no! I just wrote something that they’re going to eat me alive for, and I need to know what they’re saying!

Hubby: I know, I read it. They’ll DIE when they hear you’re voting for Clinton. DIE! Almost everyone thinks you’re voting for Obama! hahaha. They really don’t know you at all, do they? I can’t believe you went there—to politics, I mean. I never thought you’d do that.

Brillig: I know. I can’t believe it either. And knowing the diversity of my readers, they’re probably fighting like pitbulls right about now.

Hubby: Good news, though. Not ONE of your readers had voted for Huckabee when I last checked. At least there’s that.

Brillig: Yeah, my readers are a classy bunch.

Hubby: *snort* yeah, super classy. But I think you’re about to lose them all.

Brillig: I don’t think I’ll write about politics anymore. My opinions are so strong, and so well-researched, and fit so perfectly with my religious beliefs that I’m always so surprised when people who supposedly share my religious beliefs have such an opposite view of politics from me! And I find myself wanting to fight. I want to tell them why they’re wrong and I’m right. But then again, I hate fighting and it does no good. ABSOLUTELY NO GOOD! Political debate is like Bible-bashing. It accomplishes nothing— no one is moved to change their mind, it just makes everyone angry. And what’s the point of that? I think I won’t talk about politics. And when people call me nasty things, I’ll just shut up. There’s no reason to get into it any deeper.

Hubby: That’s wise. I think you can definitely expect people to call you nasty things. Hillary provokes such an emotional response! People either adore her or hate her. People either adore her supporters or hate them.

Brillig: True. I’ve always been behind her, and I’ve always felt the admiration/hatred for throwing my hat in that ring. That was the one teeny-tiny-itty-bitty silver lining to Kerry losing in ‘04— it opened up the door for Hillary in ‘08.

Hubby: Hahaha. You’ve been saying “Hillary in ‘08″ for as long as I’ve known you!

Brillig. True. Hey, is the internet back up yet? Don’t say no. My WORLD COMES TO A COMPLETE STOP when the internet is down. Is it back up yet?

Hubby: No, not yet. And that’s really pathetic. You’ll just have to be patient. *snicker* But you promised to tell them who you’re voting for. How are you going to do that if you’re not talking about politics anymore?

Brillig: I’m not sure. Maybe I’ll just say it and then turn off comments.

Hubby: Nah, leave the comments on and just let ‘em go to town on it, and you can just stay out of the conversation.

Brillig: And then I can just vent to you, instead of fighting with my friends!

Hubby: Yikes. Um, how ’bout instead of venting to me, you vent to Luisa.

Brillig: Hahaha. Great plan. That’s what I’ll do. Is the internet up yet?

Hubby: Yup!

Brillig: Do you still love me, even though I’m an uppity woman voting for an uppity woman?

Hubby: Hmmmmmmmmm… I’ll have to think about that. *snicker*

(…as it turns out, he does still love me…)

I’m such a nerd, I know. But I have been COUNTING DOWN to Super Tuesday!!!!

Because I don’t like to fight, I don’t talk very much about my political leanings. I mean, I make no secret about the fact that I’m rather liberal, but I don’t usually get into the juicy details of why and what. But today, I must make a special exception! Because it’s SUPER TUESDAY!!!!

Let me start off by telling you that I’m a teeny tiny blue dot in an excessively red state. Not just a red state, but a Mitten state (that’s a state full of people who are smitten with Mitt). Let’s face it. I’m a democrat in Utah. I’m the only person I know who’s NOT going to be voting for Romney.

In Utah, you have to be a registered republican in order to vote in the primary, so I obviously WON’T be voting in the Republican primary. Hahaha. But, if someone held a gun to my head and FORCED me to vote for a republican, it would be McCain.

I know, get over your gasping. I’m not saying that I want McCain to be president, but between the two of the Republicans that people are actually talking about, he’s the one I’d pick if I had to pick one. Why? Three reasons: torture, wire-tapping, and pork barrel politics. These are three things that McCain has spoken out against, and I respect him tremendously for it. In Utah, you are UNAMERICAN and UNPATRIOTIC and even a TERRORIST if you don’t agree with every single word that falls out of Mr. Bush’s mouth. Hahaha. They’re the ones supporting torture and illegal detention and wiretapping, and I’M the terrorist. Um…. Anyway, Mr. McCain has a teeny tiny spark of sanity, reason, and intellect that I do not see elsewhere in his party.

FORTUNATELY, no one, yet, has put a gun to my head and forced me to vote for a Republican. (Though, believe me, there are PLENTY of guns around– I live in a place where the only part of the constitution anyone actually holds dear is the second ammendment…) PHEWWWW!

I had lunch with some of my bloggy friends the other day. More about that later. But I bring it up now to tell you about a bet I made with Candace Salima (yes, you heard me. Two mormons were betting) about Mr. Romney. I was clearly betting with a Mitten, who believes firmly that Mr. Romney is our next Commander in Chief. I am of the humble opinion that the man is utterly un-electable. So, we made a bet. Here we are shaking hands:

So, point is, if Romney becomes our next president, I owe her lunch. If not, she owes me lunch. I’d say I’m sitting in a pretty good position… Plus, if Romney became president, owing Candace lunch would be the LEAST of my worries (as I frantically pack my bags for Canada…).

So, how exactly will I be voting today? Well? hahahaha. Most of you know me pretty well by now. This will be a fun game. You have to GUESS which democrat I’ll be voting for in the primary today… Go on, guess!

Opinion Polls & Market Research

And, because I’m curious like that, I want to know who you, my gorgeous and adorable readers, will be voting for (or already voted for, or would vote for if you were an American, or whatever). By the way, these are totally anonymous. I have no way of knowing how you voted on how you will vote.

Opinion Polls & Market Research

Ahhh, won’t this be fun?

Regardless of how I vote or how I don’t vote, my expectations are that the nominees will turn out to be McCain vs. Clinton. That’s how I see this thing going down once the primaries are over. And then I expect Clinton to win the big election and be our next president. That’s the future according to Brillig. What do you think?

(Big thanks to Shellie of Little But Loud who is graciously hosting Soap Opera Sunday this weekend. She will have a list at her blog of all the other participants this week. For more Soap Opera Sunday information, read this.)

I have to start out this particular bit of soapiness by explaining that I was 21. I was attending Southern Utah University (well, I was enrolled at SUU. To say I was attending would be an overstatement, since I only showed up for class about 4% of the time…) and I was going through boyfriends like they were kleenexes. Oh, and like most 21 year olds, I knew everything.

One of my Provo-based friends was getting married, so I grabbed my friend Liz and drove my shiny teal Ford with its 6-CD changer (I had never even heard of a 6-CD changer until Daddy gave me this car for Christmas just the month before) up to Provo to attend the wedding reception and to hang out with my family for the weekend and show Liz the big city I hailed from (hey, compared to Cedar City, any town with a mall is a thriving metropolis).

After the wedding reception, my brother J called me to say that while I was in town he wanted to set me up with his friend, who we will call “Blake.” Truth is, I was dying for J to set me up with Blake. I’d only met Blake once, but he’d made a huge impression and I had been kinda holding my breath ever since I’d first seen him for a chance to go out with him.

But, I had Liz with me, and I couldn’t just leave her stranded in my parents’ basement while I went out with some guy I barely knew. I explained that to J, and he said that he’d figure something out and call me back.

Which he did. In record time, Blake had arranged a massive group date. J would be set up with a girl named Lindsay, Liz would be set up with a guy named Jesse, and two other couples would be joining us too. That’s ten people, all out on first dates, most of which were blind dates.

Blake had gone to an awful lot of trouble just to spend some time with me…

I was so excited.

When we met up with everyone, I just about had a heart attack over how darling Blake was. He had this perfect, almost angelic face. His green eyes were squinty, as if he were permanently smiling. And his hair? Short, perfectly groomed, and fuschia. That’s right. Fuschia. I confess that I was highly intrigued by this boy who gave off the essence of absolute innocence and purity, but with just a little shock of rebellion in the form of fuschia hair dye on his head.

We were divided up into cars– J, Lindsay, Jesse, and Liz all went in one car, the other two couples went in another car, and that left me and Blake to go by ourselves in his… um… vehicle.

It was a truck, I guess, but not like any truck I’d ever seen. It was like a truck had gotten stuck in a shrinking machine and was miniaturized. It had peeling black paint and a cracked windshield and the heater didn’t work very efficiently (I remember that last part acutely because it was January. In Utah. And, like any sensible girl on a first date with a gorgeous guy, I was dressed to be cute, not warm).

As he started the… um… truck, his radio blared “music.” Bluegrass “music.” He then told me— perhaps in response to the “trying-to-be-polite-but-really-hating-this-music” expression on my face— that he could never really be interested in someone who didn’t share his passion for bluegrass music.

Two possible responses came to my mind. The first one was something like, “well, then you’d better let me out here, because I’m clearly not the girl for you.” The second possible response was, “Boy, looking the way you do, I’d gladly poke holes in my eardrums and let you listen to whatever you want, as long as I can stare at you all day long.”

Deciding that neither response was quite appropriate, I settled for something eloquent like, “hmmmmmmm… .”

“It could be worse,” I thought to myself. “I could be on a date with an ultra-conservative Republican or something.” It was about at that moment that I noticed the “Vote for Alan Keyes” paraphernalia in his… um… truck.

Oh. Mygosh. I was on a date with a crazy ultra-conservative Republican.

Shoot.

Me.

Now.

And yet, he was so so so cute. And kind. And enthralling. And cute.

His cell phone rang— it was J, telling us that the restaurant that they’d planned on had a super long waiting list. As they discussed possible alternates, I heard Blake say, “no, not Italian. I don’t like pasta.”

Oh. Mygosh. I was on a date with an ultra-conservative, “truck”-driving, bluegrass-obsessed friend of my brother’s who didn’t like pasta. It was as though the heavens had created my exact opposite, and expected me to adore him.

And I did. I adored him.

The ten of us ended up going to an Indian restaurant, which was insanely delicious, and after much witty banter (seriously, Blake and I were both on a roll that night), we all went back to J’s house to watch a movie. J wanted to watch something that was Rated R and almost everyone was fine with that. But two of the girls had made personal decisions not to watch Rated R movies and they were really uncomfortable. They asked nicely if we could please change the plan and watch something else. The response from almost everyone was one of jeering and ridicule and “hey, if 8 of us want to watch this movie, then we outnumber you and you’ll just have to deal with it.”

It was then that Blake piped up, and said, “we’re NOT going to force anyone to watch something that they’re not comfortable with! We’ll find something else!”

And I think it’s just possible that that’s the moment I fell in love with him… though I hadn’t realized it yet.

His statement was so decisive and authoritative that all mockery ceased and they simply found a different movie to watch that everyone would be okay with.

Sometime during the movie, Blake reached for my hand, and we spent the next two hours holding hands, painfully aware that while there was definitely something going on here, our differences were far too gigantic to be overcome.

…to be continued, of course…