my voting point system

Election time is upon us, thus some pretty important decisions need to be made.

Once upon a time, I was among the non-voting adult public. I don’t buy into this crap about, “If you don’t vote, you can’t complain.” Really, guys. Do you just regurgitate these tired quotes without thought? How about you stop to think about it for the minute and give some non-voters the benefit of the doubt, understand that they might vehemently dislike every single candidate available and disapprove of any of them in a position of power and that some people believe that the lesser of two evils is still, in fact, evil.

But a few years ago, the ballots listed two candidates who topped my list of people who shouldn’t even be walking among us, let alone leading us. So I was compelled to do what other people have been telling me to do since I turned 18. I went with the lesser of evils route. I voted to help whomever their opposition was. For the first time in my life, I actually stayed up to watch the polls. Thankfully, neither made it and I felt vindicated.

And then I was summoned for district court jury duty the next year which really made me regret my decision to register to vote. (Note: If you are thinking that they don’t choose from a pool of registered voters, educate yourself about the differences between District and Superior Court.)

Now I’m left to wonder whether I should vote this year or not. Once again, I don’t fully believe in the qualifications of most candidates. So how do I determine how to cast my vote? I care, but not as much as some people do. And the fact of the matter is that a lot of people who do care are operating under dubious criteria and sketchy opinions, these WTF voters and votes that have me wondering if these people are paying attention and how easily people the most vehement opposition and supporters are swayed.

So screw it. I devised a point system. Admittedly, some of these don’t make much sense. Some are pretty trivial and only placed there for humor despite the fact that I am still absolutely using such points to determine my vote. You’ll notice a lot more negatives than positives but that tends to be my relationship with politics: It’s significantly easier to turn me off than turn me on.

So here it is:

+10 - Perceived genuine kindness:

Kindness is not a factor alone. I’m not a voter who makes her decisions based on who’s nice and who’s related to me. What matters is that your kindness is genuine or, at least, seems genuine. Don’t politic around shaking my hand and kissing my cheek. Isn't it already a long-running joke/game to see how many politicians show up at a celebration or memorial?

+ 5 – The sympathy vote:

My heart cries a bit whenever I see just one person out there waving without any supporters or loved ones to accompany him or her. Well, maybe not “cry”. It…sighs. I’m not that much of a bleeding heart.

+25 – Be nice to my kids:

Unlike the first point, this applies mostly to rookie politicians, neither incumbents or politicians who’ve served prior terms can really be part of this. A personal experience to illustrate: At a child’s birthday party, my son was in the pool with another boy and that boy’s father. This father not only entertained his own son but included my boy in their games. I appreciate that. It’s the other side of the above point. This is also about someone’s genuine nature. At any rate, it seems that a lot of people vote for friends and family, whether they have thought about their ability to serve or not, among half a dozen other bogus reasons. So this one is mine.

-5 – Usage of vuvuzelas.

That’s it. Don’t use them.

-20 – Was I talking to you?:

I once ran into a friend who had just been hired to work for a new senator. I stopped to make some pleasant conversation and asked my friend how things were going. In any other situation, my friend would have given a generic response as a general idea of how life is and the only person responding would be my friend since that was who I was talking to. But boss lady steps in and starts talking about her seat in office. I don’t care. And if I did, I’d address you directly. Every conversation is not a chance to campaign. In fact, it’s often a good way to lose my interest.

-40 – Members of club fed and their affiliates:

So what’s up with the “haves” stealing money from their own island,? We already don’t have money to take care of our basic necessities and now you want to steal more from us? Well, I guess when you can afford private schools, healthcare and you own property, you don’t really care about the rest of us. Speaking of which, if you can afford all these things, why the hell are you stealing money from us in the first place? Nice car, by the way.

+ 15 -The next generation:

I’m getting tired of the same faces screwing us over. We need some young blood in there.

-20 – Copyright infringement:

Stop doing this people! You didn’t get permission from the artists to use their songs in your campaign. So don’t use it.

+15 – That’s a catchy little diddy.

So if you can’t use copyrighted material, create your own. And make it good. Might I point out that not since the 90s when Rufo Lujan was running have I heard a jingle that really got me bopping along with a smile on my face. Go there. Make me sing.

-30 – Common fricking sense:

I mentioned this before on my FB: Don’t talk about someone’s kids, don’t talk about someone’s mama and don’t mention people on their deathbeds. Just don’t go there.

(Note: At the end of this entry you'll notice I say something about a candidate's child. That was a personal experience and I have every right to be pissed off at someone threatening my family (yeah, it actually happened). And guess what. I’m not the one running for office. I’m not held to the same standards. That’s common sense, too.)

-10 - Who???

If I don’t know who the hell you are and cannot figure out why you’re running based on your resume, how am I going to know why you deserve to be in office?

-30 – “So basically…”

This is a high deduction because it’s a significant error that speakers often make. As a frequent error, it ranks somewhere below “your/you’re” and “its/it’s” confusion. But also, as a frequent error, it is something that fluent English speakers should know about. There is absolutely no reason to ever use the word “basically”. Whatever you are saying, you can drop it and the sentence will still make perfect sense. When you use that word, you basically sound stupid.

-30 – “Democracy”

America is not a democracy. Guam is not a democracy. Anyone serving under either flag should know that. As a politician, there is no reason to perpetuate this misconception. You should know better. So cut it out. If you are referring to the democratic process of citizens voting for their representatives, well, there’s a word for that. You’ll find it in the Pledge of Allegiance. And to the “what” for which it stands? That’s right. A republic.

-15 - Stick to what you know

If I do know who you are and what your background is, I expect this background to have something to do with your qualifications as a representative of our island. Don’t come out of left field, citing your platform when it has nothing to do with your expertise because then I’m left with wondering exactly who you are and what you’re talking about. It’s even more off-putting when you talk about this platform and it is clear that you don’t really have experience in it. And understand that an observation is not experience.

-10 – Not politically correct

I know, the rules change rather often and sometimes being PC goes a little too far. It often seems like no matter what word you use, you’re going to end up offending someone. But at the same time, there are certain PC terms and ideas that you really should know. They are spoken about often enough. Not knowing them means you don’t really pay attention and if you don’t pay attention then who’s to say you’re capable of paying attention to what this island needs. If you can’t be bothered to look these things up, yourself, then have your team do the work for you. Until then, Oriental refers to objects, people are Asian. And “handicapped”? Really? Why don’t you just call them “cripples”?

+/-10 - Every single act that you have made in office or in the public eye, dependent on whether I agree with said act or not

Self explanatory.

+15 - Variation

For those duos running for our highest seats, I prefer a team where the members are not similar types of people with similar backgrounds. There should be a clear distinction, even with common goals. This comes across as a team that brings more than a few strengths to the table and has more to work with.

+ 50 - Archbishop's League of Evil Ushers

Anyone the Apuron says not to vote for gets an added 50 points. I'd make it 100 but it would really throw things off. I resent being told who to vote for considering you're sitting on your free ride in a position that our grand constitution has given you the right to not be affected by half of the laws that govern the rest of us. It's called Separation of Church and State. Or do you only care about that when it benefits you? Jackass.

Full negation of positive points – Rotten fruit:

This means you are automatically below all candidates and not remotely a consideration. If you’ve failed in your first job as a leader -- that is, in leading your children -- why should I trust in your ability to lead a significantly larger population? If you've raised a child stupid enough to burn your own bridges by threatening to kill my husband, knowing this could cast you in a negative light, well, that's beyond disgusting. That's just stupid. You and your family deserve a lot of things. But none of them are positive. And none of them include my vote.

*******

That seems to be it for now. I’ll probably add more as we near election time.

Up next: The list of candidates and their points thus far which, in most cases, is still also subject to change.

there goes my baby

Yesterday, I woke up earlier than I had in the past five years. It was so early for me that there were many days in those years that I was barely getting to sleep at that time. But that was not too hard.

Yesterday, in addition to getting myself ready for the day, I had to awaken, clean, dress and feed two other people and make sure they had everything they needed. I had to cook immediately upon waking up, springing into action, instead of taking a good hour to adjust to being awake as I had been able to before. That wasn't the hard part either.

Yesterday, I had to brave the early morning traffic, having not driven at that time of day in several years, forgetting what it had been like and knowing that there were more obstacles to contend with, making any recollection of traffic almost moot. I made great time, actually, and was able to beat the traffic, making my morning rather smooth despite being pretty tired. So that wasn't hard.

Yesterday, I walked through the gates of my old elementary school, my 5-year-old with his Iron Man bag strapped to his back walking next to me, my 3-year-old tagging along, holding my hand, my other hand holding a large plastic bag filled with the required extra supplies for the classroom, as we lugged ourselves and our baggage up the stairs to my son's kindergarten classroom for the first time. I brought him over to a bench where two of his classmates were already patiently waiting for their teacher. These two classmates were already somewhat acquainted with my son: one as a weekly playmate and the other as the son of a good friend of mine. My son spied another one of his classmates not adapting to this big change very well, crying profusely as their teacher tried to calm her down. I looked down at my boy who was, by then, rubbing his eyes, a sign that he was nervous. I knelt down in front of him and told him he was going to have a great day, that everything was okay, that he was a big boy and I was proud of him. I put on my happiest smile and encouraged him. As I looked closer, I saw his face start to break, a pout, a quivering lip and my extremely brave son trying very hard not to cry. When the teacher asked them to stand in line, my son would not move. I gently encouraged him to stand in line, grabbed his extra bag - and his classmate's extra bag - gestured to my 3-year-old who was busying himself with the jungle-gym outside the classroom and followed them in, despite a request made by the teacher the previous week that we let the teacher handle the nervous kids on their own while the parents left, trusting her to take care of all of our children who were complete strangers to both her and each other. By this time there was another child getting really upset. I sat my son down, gave him a few more words of encouragement. I didn't hug him or kiss him, feeling it would embarrass him even more. I whispered, "I love you." told him I had to leave and he nodded, understanding that despite his fear, this was something he had to do, that we had talked about for at least a year in preparation. I walked out with my youngest son who was, by now, crying because he wanted to stay. (And it was only then that I noticed my 3-year-old had been wearing two different shoes). We got in our car, drove the less than a minute drive home, walked into our house and started our day.

Well, we started our day after I closed the door and broke down, crying profusely, missing my first baby; wondering what I was supposed to do with one less child in the house; trying to get over the fact that this little boy had been by my side constantly for the past five years and now I had to let him go; remembering the fear in his eyes, the strength it took for him to hold it together as much as he could; the guilt of abandoning him when I was supposed to be the person who protected him, the person he trusted the most and feeling like a part of my heart was completely missing.

That was the hard part. That was, quite literally, the hardest thing I had ever had to do in my life.

While I can't say my life has been particularly difficult, I am still not above recognizing the slight humor in having such a hard time letting go for seven measly hours a day. I labored through sixteen hours of regular contractions for this child, even longer for my other one. I had managed to squeeze two human beings out of my body, sat through their shots and cried along with them, cried even more every time they were sick and endured countless sleepless nights worrying about them. Even though I had to let my son go in the morning, he'd be returning to me just a few hours later. We'd still have ample time to spend together, doing the things we used to have all day to do. No big deal. Millions of people do this every day, right?

None of that mattered. All I knew is that one day I was holding this helpless, newborn baby in my arms, his eyes wide and searching this bright, open space he'd just entered. Then I blinked and all of a sudden, my son was walking, talking, potty-trained, knew how to write his name, was a master at many video games and had an appetite for learning new things -- especially about dinosaurs and a bunch of other animals, each one more exotic than the one before it. And as he grew, he was growing right out of my arms.

The same fears that choke many parents in my position and the many more parents who've come before were clouding my mind with questions: Would he make friends? Would he be terrified and alone? Would the other kids be mean to him? Had I prepared him enough for school? Had I prepared him too much? What if they lost him? What if he got hurt?

More, though I had thought about it and tried to prepare myself for this big change, I realized I hadn't really anticipated how empty and quiet the house felt without him. My youngest son was still there and he's my little devil, the high-maintenance one, the one I always have to keep an eye on. I figured my days would still be busy chasing after him, stopping him from doing something he knows he's not supposed to do and having more time to be one step ahead of him. But he wasn't that difficult to deal with. The house did not get as dirty as it used to despite the fact that the child making most of the mess was the one who was still home. He was on his best behavior. It doesn't escape me that, perhaps, he was behaving so well because he was feeling lost and alone without his big brother, too.

That day was a busy one and I was distracted from feeling the anguish of being separated from my baby, even though I still thought about him every second that day. Before I knew it, it was time to pick him up from school. I walked through the gates again, this time with excitement, saw my little boy sitting among the other kids waiting to be let go for the day, smiled at the look on his face when he saw me there and knew he was just as happy to see me as I was to see him.

Much as I anticipated, Kane had mixed reactions to his first day of school. Because of his shyness, it was hard to get him to talk about what he did that day. But there were still little signs here and there that betrayed him and told me how much he enjoyed himself. When we went back into the classroom to look for the lunchbox he left behind, he ran around his classroom in excitement, retrieving playthings he'd been introduced to that day and I knew this was his quiet way of showing off. Later, I managed to squeeze more information out of him. He had fun, he learned new things and he figured, on his own, that school was not as scary as he initially thought it was.

That day I received more confirmation that he'd be okay when his teacher told me that she was surprised he wasn't in preschool before, as he knew a lot of stuff. She told me that he only needs to work on not talking out of turn and sitting still. Naturally, as an experienced teacher, she knows these are developed skills. And I understood these were low-grade critiques as he was "on green", the highest section of the class behavioral chart. But the only thing I could focus on when she told me how he did that day was the fact that my extremely shy little boy likes to talk out of turn. You mean, he talked?

So that was our first day at kindergarten. I saw "we" because I hope he carried me with him, not as a person to miss; not as the mommy who left him with strangers; not as the person responsible for this whole ordeal. I hope he carried me as the person who started him on a his educational path, years before he started school; as the person who loves him enough to let him go; as the person who he'd always come back to at the end of every day. I know I carried him with me. I missed him desperately at the small unveiling party Drew and I attended later that day, even though I knew he would not have wanted to go and would have been bored and too shy to interact the way his social butterfly of a little brother was. I stared at a TV that no one had to fight over, a video game console that had not been turned on at all that day. I fed one child, put one child down for a nap, took care of the needs of only one child after three years of caring for two.

Even while I hoped he wouldn't miss us too much and that he was having enough fun to not think about us too much after that difficult and scary first step, all I could think about was how much I missed him. I thought about how much I would miss him, almost every day for the next thirteen years and how much I hope it prepares me for missing him for the rest of my life when he becomes the man he was born to be.

In closing, I want to address my big boy:

Kane, you will never truly understand what you mean to me and who you are in this family. But I hope to show you every day how fortunate I feel to have been blessed with such a wonderful son. I searched for the right fit all my life and realized the day you were placed on my chest that you were the reason I existed. With you and your brother, my world was complete and no void could ever exist that you could not fill. I am so proud of you and cannot believe that I created you, molded you and taught you to be the wonderful child you have become, even as you learned and developed many things that had little to do with me and more to do with what an amazing person you are. Never forget that I am always here for you, that "mommy" is simply another word for "home" and no matter where you are, you will never truly be lost or alone.

I love you,

Mommy