Love along the way..

scenes-from-my-hood:

so it was a year ago.  a year ago! it snuck up on me.  i’m not sure how. but it’s a big anniversary.

a year and a week ago i got a frenzied email from ari, who was working full-time (as he had been for months) at the NE philly for obama office.  he needed help.  at first i sent the email out to all of my politically-like-minded friends in the east. and then i decided to jump, and i booked a ticket to philadelphia.  i was there for 2 days which i spent literally pounding the pavement, hanging door-knockers, handing out literature, looking up ADA-accessible polling places.

i was in a strange place in my life.  this escape was important for me. it put things in focus. i was at a breaking point, and rather than break i decided to affirm my decisions. i was reminded in philadelphia how i should feel, and i resolved to feel that way again. that’s a story for another day.

it was cold in philly, and i spent the 2 days bundled into my felty black coat, with several newly-acquired buttons affixed to it—catholics for obama!  latinos for obama!  ((i am neither catholic nor latina, though i could more likely pass for the former than the latter)). i ate more than my share of pizza.  i tried pepperoni for the first time in almost 20 years. it was salty and i liked it. i made a friend, and i phoned home.  i could hear my parents smiling about what i was doing.

i stayed with ari and kelly in his obama-homestay.  i was so happy to be there. i was so proud of what they were doing.

i heard obama referred to as a ‘nigger’ twice during my two days in a low-income part of philadelphia.  one man, all knobby-knees and wild eyes and flannel robe and grey hair everywhere, ripped up the “VOTE FOR OBAMA!” door knocker and threw it at me.  i made friends with the people who were also canvassing.  i documented it all with my camera. also, i remember.

i flew home the night before the election, landing in a very cold, very dark november night in san francisco.  i had voted early, so i had scratched in NO ON 8 and YES PLEASE OBAMA/BIDEN with all of the elbow grease i could muster.  i’d never before voted for president in person.  it was an astonishingly quick thing—an act that must be assigned meaning, because the thing itself is so banal.

on election day, i got no work done.  i’m not sure why i even went to the office.  i spent the day on the phone with friends, refreshing nyt.com, and sparring with my republican friend billy over email. i had no certainty about what was going to happen with obama or 8.  and my nerves got the worst of me.

on my bus ride home, pennsylvania was called for obama.  my mom called me, as she was driving home from working at a polling place. she said ‘YOU DID IT!’ and i thought, holy shit, we did do it. i called ari; he was drunk, or maybe thrilled, or possibly ecstatic, or, in all likelihood, all of the above. i know that he cried, at some point that night.  and he deserved to.

i got home, where the doctor and roo were waiting for me.  roo was wearing his ‘maltese for obama’ pin (a gift from my sister) and pizza was on the table.  we had two friends over, and we watched the coverage voraciously. at some point we flipped from a traditional news station to comedy central, and it was, appropriately, john stewart and stephen colbert who told us that barack hussein obama had been elected president of the united states.

i cried, quietly.  the doctor squeezed my hand.  roo licked, but he always licks.

the doctor’s father, a fox-news-republican, called to offer a concession speech. it was probably much better than mccain’s.

we took roo out to a bar (under the obama administration: DOGS IN BARS!) and let him eat the goldfish crackers right off the table, and even have a few sips of beer.  however, my elation was tempered.  the numbers coming in on prop 8 were discouraging.  nothing was going to be known that night or, it would turn out, for days. but what we knew was not good.

it was a wonderful day to be an american and a shitty day to be a californian.

today, a year later, i turn to maine, which is making a decision about the rights of gay and lesbian couples to marry. i cannot guarantee that there will be a dry eye in my house when those votes are tallied.  i make no such guarantees.

i’m not the kind of person that prays. it’s not the way i believe change, or hope, is manifested. that said, today i am doing something eerily similar. it is a deep belief that mistakes can be learned from, and that those lessons can carry forward until, over and over and over, love may be let in.

I wish you would talk to me again. After I accidentally texted you the other day, I can’t get you off my mind. It’s driving me crazy, I hope you know. Your witty response did nothing to help me forget that you just took off more than two years ago, with nothing but “I love you, I’m in love with you, but I can’t be friends with you.”

It sucked, I hope you know. Losing you as a friend was awful, because I never got the chance to tell you things. I wish you would talk to me again.

You put me in one of the worst positions I could have imagined. I’ve kept quiet for two years, but this year I need to open the door a little. I need some answers. I need to understand.

I don’t know how to handle this. It’s precarious and dangerous and has the potential to ruin one of the best friendships imaginable. I wish you would talk to me again.

Because I miss you. And I’m tired of the secrets.

Oh stubble-burn, I dislike you so…

Alas, said halloween festivities passed me by as I styaed home sick last night. My killer costume will simply have to hang in a dress bag until next year. Sigh.

In other news, my Tumblarity is a whopping 5 because I’ve been a creep and have only read posts for the past week and not actually posted anything myself. Which is weird, because a lot has happened! Expect my short little musings to resume shortly.