I went down...
My idea ... was to take along my laptop, which I did...
I figured ...
...even if the night didn’t go my way I could at least...
But somehow I’m not up to editing...
I finally left at 6:00...
When I finally went to sleep, I dreamed...
...as I write this, I’ve gotten back up...
...I wasn’t expecting Kerry to win.
But I wasn’t expecting this either.
And I don’t know what to say.
I can’t even muster up the righteous anger...
...I’ve also heard a lot of disgust.
...I’ve heard “they deserve him”...
But I don’t think that will ever happen.
...I still can’t quite believe...
I can’t believe that...
I wish I had an answer.
While I swing between poles ... I am usually willing to believe in hope.
...I don’t know how much hope I can draw...
My father tells me that when I was a child, my first steps of political activism were charmingly naive—I was calling up stores ... because I was so sure that if I could just tell them, they would change.
I just assumed ..., and if I showed them, they would stop.
I don’t know when it finally came home to me...
I don’t know how to move on from this.
I guess that’s our modern dilemma.
Dara, you whiny, little, self-absorbed Tampon, get a life!
Did anyone catch what her major is?