my political platform
I have received my first call from someone close telling me to stop running.
I’ve been expecting that to happen and to be honest it didn’t feel great.
I’m witnessing the different emotions I’m feeling. Fear. Excitement. Nausea. Since I started telling people that I’m trying to get on the ballot I’ve been met with mostly excitement. Some surprise. Some… disgust? Conceit? Both?
I don’t blame em. I hold the opinion that most politicians are snakes. A part of me wonders if this is an exercise in hubris. I’m sure it is to an extent.
The person who called me asked if this was about trying to prove myself to my ex. Win her back in some way. I’m sure it is to an extent.
The person who’s worried about me called me again.
They called my grandpa, who called my mom, who called me. She asked me if I was alright. I said yes.
Doubt. That’s what I’m feeling now. But I also expected that.
I’ve written on my hand in sharpie “i can, i will, i must” as positive affirmations for when I start doubting myself or get too scared. I’m definitely out of my comfort zone and I haven’t even left Calgary. Woof.
Flights delayed.
Building up to this I didn’t tell my parents or my grandpa. I thought if I did I’d open myself up to too much doubt, wouldn’t go, would just stop.
And so far. I’ve been wanting to do that. But there is something deeper in me telling me to stick with it. I think I would know if it was too much. I also always have the option to just go home.
I’m grateful to have that option.
Someone emailed me. I responded. They asked my platform and I made something up. Privacy, Affordability, Relatability. Is what I said. Is that true?
For the most part yeah I think. Maybe not so much privacy but protection from tech. I don’t like having infinite scroll on my phone. I don’t like that I was exposed to porn so early and so easily. I don’t like that every day the news tells me don’t worry no one will have jobs soon.
Hmmmm.
Damn being in public is scary. My friend said he’d pick me up from the airport. We spoke with a political type guy today and he said to be careful because that might count as a gift.
The money and gift and tracking expenses thing is top of my mind. I hate doing that to begin with. What makes me think I can do it with skin in the game and consequences on the line.
Breath. Breath. Breath. I can. I will. I must.
One thing at a time. What am I avoiding? Dishes. Laundry. Oof.
Did I do this so I didn’t have to do laundry? Kind of, yeah.
Why did I do this? To feel hope? That feels real. To feel like I’m important. Yeah, to an extent. Because I think I’m big and strong and important? Perhaps subconsciously.
Hello shadow. I see you. I guess my answer is I don’t know why I’m doing it.
I think one part is I’m tired of trying to fix my self, my family. And federal politics seemed less political but still meaningful.
It’s hard to confront your parents about them aging. It’s hard to see your dad trying to stay relevant in the workplace. It’s hard to see them struggle with their baggage. Their mistakes. Their words left unsaid.
It’s hard to see your grandparents age. It’s hard to watch them die.
It’s hard to know what to do next. It’s hard to make money. It’s hard to be enough.
Maybe that’s why I’m doing this. Just to say it’s ok to people that it’s hard. To say that I see you out there doing your best.
And doing your best is sometimes not enough. And that sucks.
I overheard the girl behind me; she got the email that she was accepted into her Master’s program. Good for her. I told her congratulations.
I’m at the airport. My flights been delayed.
I cried writing all that now. Fuck. What a pussy.
Well. Now what?
Damn. I’m tired. This was a mistake. Go home and hide under the covers. Breath. I’m scared. You’re good. You’re good. Oof.
I need a phone charger.