or The end of the world as we know it.
Dear Mr. President,
Tonight the lights went out for two blocks. Our street, usually basking in the permanent glow of Seattle's urban heart, was plunged into unnatural darkness. My roommates lit candles and curled up under blankets in the central part of our apartment. For a moment we were reminded of how helpless we can be without the devices we've come to rely on.
Yes, I'm stalling, hoping to find a way to make this a more hopeful letter. I'd like to say that we learned an important lesson about unplugging, slowing down, connecting with the people we love or finding ways to be resourceful. We didn't. Desperate to follow election results and finish my last midterm, I fled to the familiar safety of light, heat and free WiFi. My roommates toughed out a half-hour of darkness and now we're all back to blogging, movie-watching and the more effective (if less-flattering) overhead lights.
We've lost the House. At home, Washington state residents have voted overwhelmingly to defeat an income tax measure that would have helped education and health programs. Rick Larsen and Patty Murray are still fighting close races that may not be called before the night's end. Rand Paul is in. Russ Feingold is out. California's proposition 19 is defeated. Across the country, small pockets of hope (Christine O'Donnell and Meg Whitman will not win their races) fail to dispel the gloom and powerlessness afflicting those of us who kept the faith despite every indication that we'd face a night like this one.
I know it isn't the end of the world; disappointment tends to leave me with more a flair for the dramatic than is perhaps healthy. But, as I struggle to return my attention to the 7th century nomads of the turkic empires, I'm going to allow myself this night to mourn our losses, to despair at the ignorance, short-sightedness and naked, pointless rage that led to these results. Tomorrow it will all be back in perspective and I will be hopeful and optimistic again. Tomorrow I will start lighting candles and hope that the factionalized democrats come back together, if only for the sake of warmth. Tomorrow I will worry about 2012.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Showing posts with label Senator Patty Murray. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Senator Patty Murray. Show all posts
Tuesday, November 2, 2010
Monday, November 1, 2010
Day 305-Man up for Midterms
Dear Mr. President,
I think if I read one more poll I will actually lose my mind. Whatever happens tomorrow is set in motion, and sadly I'm swamped with an entirely different kind of midterms. I can't read any more analysis. I can't consider any more predictions. If another Dino Rossi pop-up ad starts talking to me while I post this entry I will scream.
We're all going to get out of bed on Wednesday and go to work or school or breakfast. We will get through tomorrow and we will live with the outcome, no matter what. Or, at least, this is what I'm telling myself. Because Nate Silver might love numbers and polls and hypotheticals but he's making me crazy tonight. And the Huffington Post might be obsessed with absurd weather/natural disaster metaphors, but it won't do any good at this point. The most I can hope for tomorrow, is what my friend Ralph reminded me of earlier: that CNN has hologram people. Because an election night without hologram people on CNN is just not enough for me any more.
Seriously though, I've got essays to write and very little sleep in my near future or recent past. If any one who reads this hasn't voted yet, do so. (Also, why are you reading a political blog if you don't vote?) If you want my suggestions on who to vote for in Washington State, if you're in any way ambivalent about the Senate race, or if you actually don't care, please vote for Patty Murray. She's excellent, and Dino Rossi eats puppies and cheats on his taxes. If you're reading from out of state, I'm sorry you don't live somewhere cool enough to have mail-in elections, but don't let the weather, the lines at the polls, the annoying political ads, errands or apathy stop you from voting. Man up, America, and get out that vote.
Mr. President, I hope that we both survive our respective midterms tomorrow without too much of the suffering every one seems to be anticipating. Wednesday will come for all of us, and I think we'll probably make it there in one piece.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
I think if I read one more poll I will actually lose my mind. Whatever happens tomorrow is set in motion, and sadly I'm swamped with an entirely different kind of midterms. I can't read any more analysis. I can't consider any more predictions. If another Dino Rossi pop-up ad starts talking to me while I post this entry I will scream.
We're all going to get out of bed on Wednesday and go to work or school or breakfast. We will get through tomorrow and we will live with the outcome, no matter what. Or, at least, this is what I'm telling myself. Because Nate Silver might love numbers and polls and hypotheticals but he's making me crazy tonight. And the Huffington Post might be obsessed with absurd weather/natural disaster metaphors, but it won't do any good at this point. The most I can hope for tomorrow, is what my friend Ralph reminded me of earlier: that CNN has hologram people. Because an election night without hologram people on CNN is just not enough for me any more.
Seriously though, I've got essays to write and very little sleep in my near future or recent past. If any one who reads this hasn't voted yet, do so. (Also, why are you reading a political blog if you don't vote?) If you want my suggestions on who to vote for in Washington State, if you're in any way ambivalent about the Senate race, or if you actually don't care, please vote for Patty Murray. She's excellent, and Dino Rossi eats puppies and cheats on his taxes. If you're reading from out of state, I'm sorry you don't live somewhere cool enough to have mail-in elections, but don't let the weather, the lines at the polls, the annoying political ads, errands or apathy stop you from voting. Man up, America, and get out that vote.
Mr. President, I hope that we both survive our respective midterms tomorrow without too much of the suffering every one seems to be anticipating. Wednesday will come for all of us, and I think we'll probably make it there in one piece.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, October 28, 2010
Day 301- Undecided
Dear Mr. President,
Tonight Rasmussen released another poll showing Dino Rossi pulling ahead. I'm pretty much in a state of panic, even as I continue to console myself with the frequent inaccuracy of Rasmussen's polls. Paul Krugman's Op-ed isn't making me much calmer. I'm terrified of the results we'll find on election day, and even more so of the resulting legislative agenda. Keith Olbermann's recent comment on the Tea Party articulated the fears that many of us on the left are experiencing this year.
But polls and pundit comments aside, this midterm should have people scared. Every election, about this time, I start marveling at the very idea of undecided voters. I feel so strongly about politics that I can't even date Republicans; and I may not be able to stand them, but I at least respect the passion that I see in my friends on the right. It is undecided voters, swing voters, people who seem to change their entire value system (or not understand how that value system is represented by their vote) every 2-4 years who confuse me. It baffles me. How can a voter who clearly understood the problems with the Bush administration (and the candidates who wanted to continue them) just two years ago suddenly be confused about who to vote for? It seems to me that the center has long been controlled by the most willfully disengaged, and the fact that they're the ones who get to decide so many elections frustrates me to no end.
I don't think that congressional Democrats are entirely blameless. Between the cowardly ones who are now running away from the party's agenda in their ads, and the cowardly ones who never had the guts to defend that agenda in the first place, it is really difficult to see why Democrats are a viable alternative to the bad ideas of Republicans. While I don't think that a disillusionment with Democrats justifies a vote for Republicans, unfortunately the two-party system (and the increasing similarity in the way the parties take money from corporations) leaves many voters feeling that this is the best solution.
Personally, I've been proud to be a Democrat lately. Watching you and Senator Murray and Governor Gregoire speak, meeting President Carter, watching you make such a compelling case for your administration's accomplishments on The Daily Show last night, all of it has restored the pride I thought I'd lost in my party. I hope that the predictions and the polls are wrong. I hope that Democrats get two more years to prove that we're not completely spineless. Because, as much as they confuse me, we're probably going to need those undecided voters in 2012.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tonight Rasmussen released another poll showing Dino Rossi pulling ahead. I'm pretty much in a state of panic, even as I continue to console myself with the frequent inaccuracy of Rasmussen's polls. Paul Krugman's Op-ed isn't making me much calmer. I'm terrified of the results we'll find on election day, and even more so of the resulting legislative agenda. Keith Olbermann's recent comment on the Tea Party articulated the fears that many of us on the left are experiencing this year.
But polls and pundit comments aside, this midterm should have people scared. Every election, about this time, I start marveling at the very idea of undecided voters. I feel so strongly about politics that I can't even date Republicans; and I may not be able to stand them, but I at least respect the passion that I see in my friends on the right. It is undecided voters, swing voters, people who seem to change their entire value system (or not understand how that value system is represented by their vote) every 2-4 years who confuse me. It baffles me. How can a voter who clearly understood the problems with the Bush administration (and the candidates who wanted to continue them) just two years ago suddenly be confused about who to vote for? It seems to me that the center has long been controlled by the most willfully disengaged, and the fact that they're the ones who get to decide so many elections frustrates me to no end.
I don't think that congressional Democrats are entirely blameless. Between the cowardly ones who are now running away from the party's agenda in their ads, and the cowardly ones who never had the guts to defend that agenda in the first place, it is really difficult to see why Democrats are a viable alternative to the bad ideas of Republicans. While I don't think that a disillusionment with Democrats justifies a vote for Republicans, unfortunately the two-party system (and the increasing similarity in the way the parties take money from corporations) leaves many voters feeling that this is the best solution.
Personally, I've been proud to be a Democrat lately. Watching you and Senator Murray and Governor Gregoire speak, meeting President Carter, watching you make such a compelling case for your administration's accomplishments on The Daily Show last night, all of it has restored the pride I thought I'd lost in my party. I hope that the predictions and the polls are wrong. I hope that Democrats get two more years to prove that we're not completely spineless. Because, as much as they confuse me, we're probably going to need those undecided voters in 2012.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Day 299- I-1098
Dear Mr. President,
Tomorrow I'm going to see President Jimmy Carter. While I assume that it will involve less screaming and cheering and sleeping on the ground than your rally here last week, I'm going to be prepared, all the same. Tonight my mother dropped off my ballot. Aside from voting to re-elect Patty Murray and Jay Inslee, Washington voters are facing a number of important initiatives. I-1098, a proposal sponsored by Bill Gates, Sr., proposes a state income tax on those making more than $200,000 a year. Since I make about $20,000 a year, you can imagine I'm pretty enthusiastic about this.
Washington State has the dubious distinction of having the single most regressive tax system in the country. While those making under $20k pay on average 17.3% of their income in taxes while the richest 1%- those making more than $537k, pay just 2.9%. I-1098 will work to improve this discrepancy and provide the state with much-needed revenue. I think, also, that there is a moral obligation for those who have money to help out those who do not. Call me socialist, call me a class warrior, call me whatever you will, but if I made $200k instead of $20, I would have no problem paying the taxes to make sure the roads, schools, police and other state services are fully funded. We are all served by these institutions, and holding on to the cold comfort of private wealth in the face of so many others struggling just to get by strikes me as the worst kind of callousness. (Washington State readers of my blog- please vote yes on 1098.)
I'm going to cut this letter short so that I can finish voting and get to bed. Thank you, again, for coming to Washington to help get progressive voters to the polls. For a reliably blue state, we're struggling this year to pass the measures and elect the candidates that our state will need. Thank you, sir.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
PS
All readers: If you have your ballot, fill it out and mail it in! If you live in a state without early or mail-in voting, please make a plan today for how you will vote on election day. Yay for voting!
Tomorrow I'm going to see President Jimmy Carter. While I assume that it will involve less screaming and cheering and sleeping on the ground than your rally here last week, I'm going to be prepared, all the same. Tonight my mother dropped off my ballot. Aside from voting to re-elect Patty Murray and Jay Inslee, Washington voters are facing a number of important initiatives. I-1098, a proposal sponsored by Bill Gates, Sr., proposes a state income tax on those making more than $200,000 a year. Since I make about $20,000 a year, you can imagine I'm pretty enthusiastic about this.
Washington State has the dubious distinction of having the single most regressive tax system in the country. While those making under $20k pay on average 17.3% of their income in taxes while the richest 1%- those making more than $537k, pay just 2.9%. I-1098 will work to improve this discrepancy and provide the state with much-needed revenue. I think, also, that there is a moral obligation for those who have money to help out those who do not. Call me socialist, call me a class warrior, call me whatever you will, but if I made $200k instead of $20, I would have no problem paying the taxes to make sure the roads, schools, police and other state services are fully funded. We are all served by these institutions, and holding on to the cold comfort of private wealth in the face of so many others struggling just to get by strikes me as the worst kind of callousness. (Washington State readers of my blog- please vote yes on 1098.)
I'm going to cut this letter short so that I can finish voting and get to bed. Thank you, again, for coming to Washington to help get progressive voters to the polls. For a reliably blue state, we're struggling this year to pass the measures and elect the candidates that our state will need. Thank you, sir.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
PS
All readers: If you have your ballot, fill it out and mail it in! If you live in a state without early or mail-in voting, please make a plan today for how you will vote on election day. Yay for voting!
Thursday, October 21, 2010
Day 294- Six more years
Dear Mr. President,
My throat hurts and I haven't slept for more than fifteen minutes in a row in almost two days. At 4:30 this morning my friend Casi and I boarded a city bus toward the U-district and gleefully informed the driver we were going to see the President. He laughed and told every passenger that he picked up after us that we'd be the first girls in line.
We were not the first in line. Defying cold and campus security, several dozen others were already waiting when we arrived. We huddled together and tried to sleep on the cold sidewalk but we were shivering too hard. We talked to one another, to the strangers ahead of us and behind us in line, about the rules, about the cold, about nothing coherent at all. We became B-roll. We were joined by other friends, we waited in the only open cafe for warm drinks paid for and abandoned before we could drink them when, unexpectedly, the line began to move forward. We waited longer, bemoaning the lost beverages and looking enviously at the the red-ticketed VIP line and, yes, even the ADA line. It was cold. We were tired. We had driven all night long to get back in time.
FInally the line moved inside. By the thousands we came inside, to the heat, to the light, to the comfortable seats. Volunteers herded us, heedless of our desire to sit together, asking only "can you stand for 4 hours?" We exchanged looks. On a good day? No problem. On no sleep in aching feet and still shivering? We took our seats in the stands, happy to settle in an unobstructed view of the podium. I folded myself in half, curling into a stadium seat to try and sleep a few more minutes. No such luck. The choice between making the whole exhausted row stand up to leave through the non-VIP exit to the bathroom or arguing with the indignant volunteers at the VIP door seemed hard at first, and then, no choice at all. A gospel choir took the task of warming up the cold, exhausted crowd. God Bless America. Beautiful words and voices made up for my usual discomfort with religion. We sang, we started the wave and the enthusiasm rolled around the crowd for more laps than any baseball game.
On stage, a series of successively more powerful leaders took to the podium and said the same things. Excessive references to Husky football victories (stretching back decades to justify the pluralization) made me wonder if Congressman Inslee believes college kids think of the whole world as a football game or if he does. Gradually, our governor and senior senator restored the gravitas we expected, reminding us how far women in our country have come and how well women in our state have done by comparison. The secret service took the stage to check the podium, their earpieces identical to the one I wear for work. We knew what came next.
My voice was already sore, but you took the stage and we didn't stop screaming for seven minutes. I've never been in the same room as the a President, before, and there you were, walking across the stage with Senator Murray's head bobbing just below your shoulder despite the help of 3-inch heels. I have written you every day for 293 days and, though you do not know that one of the fifteen-thousand voices is mine, I believe that when you look my way and wave, you see me. Every one in the auditorium believes that they are seen. You are seeing one shimmering swell of enthusiasm that will bridge any gap. It does not matter that we waited in the cold, or that attendance meant skipping the third day of classes in a row for some of us (classes we can by no means afford to miss; the price of free admission.) We are points of light too small for you to perceive the distances between us, the gaps that define us and make us individual bulbs. We are one bright shine, a stadium full of sound and waiving hands and the consuming emotion of the moment.
They said we can't elect a black man with a funny name. You shouted.
Oh, yes, we can. We shouted back.
And we kept our feet, we kept our voices raised and our hands clapping until my palms were purple and my throat was raw with the damage of sheer sound. Cameras flashed, hands of the lucky red-ticketed VIP were shaken, and, delirious with joy, I wanted to hug Reggie as he collected letters and gifts of goodwill. Elated, we tumble outside, a crowd no longer, and walk home, walking that path from the University to Capitol Hill, the same streets we flooded on election night two years ago, the same joy, the same calls from neighbors and perfect strangers asking for our account of your words.
A shift at work later, still sleepless, I am sobered by exhaustion and the return to my routine. Check in on my secret-service earpiece with the rest of the team. Blend in. Be quiet. Look for thieves. One foot in front of the other; tech center, fiction, main floor, basement. Repeat another staircase with the help of another Americano. It hurts to speak. It hurts to breathe. I have barely slept, I have homework due in less than 12 hours, and I can't afford to miss another class all quarter long. Casi has another 100-mile drive home.
And all we can keep saying to each other, to any one who asks, to ourselves is the same thing; it was worth it. I'd do it again. Let's do it tomorrow. Tangle traffic on Montlake and bring the commute to a halt. Re-assemble the metal detectors and get the secret service dogs back on their leads. I would do it all over again, to hear you speak. Even just to hear, again, the same old car metaphor, with the ditch and the mud and the keys. When you want to go forward, you put it in D.
I might be crazy and half-dead with joy and exhaustion, but you will have my ballot and you will have my vote and if I can help it, you and Senator Murray will have six more years and Seattle will have more happy floods in the streets.
Six more years sounds great to me.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
My throat hurts and I haven't slept for more than fifteen minutes in a row in almost two days. At 4:30 this morning my friend Casi and I boarded a city bus toward the U-district and gleefully informed the driver we were going to see the President. He laughed and told every passenger that he picked up after us that we'd be the first girls in line.
We were not the first in line. Defying cold and campus security, several dozen others were already waiting when we arrived. We huddled together and tried to sleep on the cold sidewalk but we were shivering too hard. We talked to one another, to the strangers ahead of us and behind us in line, about the rules, about the cold, about nothing coherent at all. We became B-roll. We were joined by other friends, we waited in the only open cafe for warm drinks paid for and abandoned before we could drink them when, unexpectedly, the line began to move forward. We waited longer, bemoaning the lost beverages and looking enviously at the the red-ticketed VIP line and, yes, even the ADA line. It was cold. We were tired. We had driven all night long to get back in time.
FInally the line moved inside. By the thousands we came inside, to the heat, to the light, to the comfortable seats. Volunteers herded us, heedless of our desire to sit together, asking only "can you stand for 4 hours?" We exchanged looks. On a good day? No problem. On no sleep in aching feet and still shivering? We took our seats in the stands, happy to settle in an unobstructed view of the podium. I folded myself in half, curling into a stadium seat to try and sleep a few more minutes. No such luck. The choice between making the whole exhausted row stand up to leave through the non-VIP exit to the bathroom or arguing with the indignant volunteers at the VIP door seemed hard at first, and then, no choice at all. A gospel choir took the task of warming up the cold, exhausted crowd. God Bless America. Beautiful words and voices made up for my usual discomfort with religion. We sang, we started the wave and the enthusiasm rolled around the crowd for more laps than any baseball game.
On stage, a series of successively more powerful leaders took to the podium and said the same things. Excessive references to Husky football victories (stretching back decades to justify the pluralization) made me wonder if Congressman Inslee believes college kids think of the whole world as a football game or if he does. Gradually, our governor and senior senator restored the gravitas we expected, reminding us how far women in our country have come and how well women in our state have done by comparison. The secret service took the stage to check the podium, their earpieces identical to the one I wear for work. We knew what came next.
My voice was already sore, but you took the stage and we didn't stop screaming for seven minutes. I've never been in the same room as the a President, before, and there you were, walking across the stage with Senator Murray's head bobbing just below your shoulder despite the help of 3-inch heels. I have written you every day for 293 days and, though you do not know that one of the fifteen-thousand voices is mine, I believe that when you look my way and wave, you see me. Every one in the auditorium believes that they are seen. You are seeing one shimmering swell of enthusiasm that will bridge any gap. It does not matter that we waited in the cold, or that attendance meant skipping the third day of classes in a row for some of us (classes we can by no means afford to miss; the price of free admission.) We are points of light too small for you to perceive the distances between us, the gaps that define us and make us individual bulbs. We are one bright shine, a stadium full of sound and waiving hands and the consuming emotion of the moment.
They said we can't elect a black man with a funny name. You shouted.
Oh, yes, we can. We shouted back.
And we kept our feet, we kept our voices raised and our hands clapping until my palms were purple and my throat was raw with the damage of sheer sound. Cameras flashed, hands of the lucky red-ticketed VIP were shaken, and, delirious with joy, I wanted to hug Reggie as he collected letters and gifts of goodwill. Elated, we tumble outside, a crowd no longer, and walk home, walking that path from the University to Capitol Hill, the same streets we flooded on election night two years ago, the same joy, the same calls from neighbors and perfect strangers asking for our account of your words.
A shift at work later, still sleepless, I am sobered by exhaustion and the return to my routine. Check in on my secret-service earpiece with the rest of the team. Blend in. Be quiet. Look for thieves. One foot in front of the other; tech center, fiction, main floor, basement. Repeat another staircase with the help of another Americano. It hurts to speak. It hurts to breathe. I have barely slept, I have homework due in less than 12 hours, and I can't afford to miss another class all quarter long. Casi has another 100-mile drive home.
And all we can keep saying to each other, to any one who asks, to ourselves is the same thing; it was worth it. I'd do it again. Let's do it tomorrow. Tangle traffic on Montlake and bring the commute to a halt. Re-assemble the metal detectors and get the secret service dogs back on their leads. I would do it all over again, to hear you speak. Even just to hear, again, the same old car metaphor, with the ditch and the mud and the keys. When you want to go forward, you put it in D.
I might be crazy and half-dead with joy and exhaustion, but you will have my ballot and you will have my vote and if I can help it, you and Senator Murray will have six more years and Seattle will have more happy floods in the streets.
Six more years sounds great to me.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Day 286- Get out the vote, Washington!
Dear Mr. President,
You're going to be speaking at my school on the 21st. I basically haven't stopped freaking out since I learned of this event a few days ago. To make the week even more exciting, Former Presidents Clinton and Carter, as well as the First Lady will all have events in Seattle that week. Unfortunately, I'll probably only make it to see you and President Carter, but having so many important Democrats visit my city in such a short time is still very exciting. I suppose this is the small upside of having an unnervingly close senate race.
At the risk of making you change your mind about visiting, I don't think you have to worry about Washington Democrats showing up this year. Patty Murray is well-liked and accomplished, and Dino Rossi has basically made a career out of losing the gubernatorial race and cheating on his taxes. I really never get tired of mocking him for his general sliminess, but I do wish he'd stop running for office and fade happily back into obscurity.
I've got several friends planning on attending with me; I'm not sure how many will join me in linning up at 5 am, but I'm counting on the later arrivals to bring me coffee. I keep trying to talk myself out of getting my hopes up; I'll probably be too far away to see much, you'll probably give the same old stump speech with that long-past-tired metaphor about the Republicans and the ditch and the car keys. I probably won't get to shake your hand or get you to sign something. I'm ok with that. I'd rather be a fan of your policies than a fan of you as a person. (Plus, not to make it a competition or anything, but I'm sure President Carter will sign his book for me.) It's still going to be a once in a lifetime experience to hear my country's president speak in person. Just because I've sent you 285 letters already this year doesn't make me any more deserving of your notice than the thousands of other screaming, devoted UW Democrats who will also be there. Still, I feel like it's important for me to go, even if it means missing class and annoying the heck out of my friends and coworkers in the meantime.
I'm glad you're coming back to Seattle, Mr. President. I'll do whatever I can to make sure my fellow progressive Washington voters and I don't let you (or Senator Murray) down. See you in a few weeks!
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
You're going to be speaking at my school on the 21st. I basically haven't stopped freaking out since I learned of this event a few days ago. To make the week even more exciting, Former Presidents Clinton and Carter, as well as the First Lady will all have events in Seattle that week. Unfortunately, I'll probably only make it to see you and President Carter, but having so many important Democrats visit my city in such a short time is still very exciting. I suppose this is the small upside of having an unnervingly close senate race.
At the risk of making you change your mind about visiting, I don't think you have to worry about Washington Democrats showing up this year. Patty Murray is well-liked and accomplished, and Dino Rossi has basically made a career out of losing the gubernatorial race and cheating on his taxes. I really never get tired of mocking him for his general sliminess, but I do wish he'd stop running for office and fade happily back into obscurity.
I've got several friends planning on attending with me; I'm not sure how many will join me in linning up at 5 am, but I'm counting on the later arrivals to bring me coffee. I keep trying to talk myself out of getting my hopes up; I'll probably be too far away to see much, you'll probably give the same old stump speech with that long-past-tired metaphor about the Republicans and the ditch and the car keys. I probably won't get to shake your hand or get you to sign something. I'm ok with that. I'd rather be a fan of your policies than a fan of you as a person. (Plus, not to make it a competition or anything, but I'm sure President Carter will sign his book for me.) It's still going to be a once in a lifetime experience to hear my country's president speak in person. Just because I've sent you 285 letters already this year doesn't make me any more deserving of your notice than the thousands of other screaming, devoted UW Democrats who will also be there. Still, I feel like it's important for me to go, even if it means missing class and annoying the heck out of my friends and coworkers in the meantime.
I'm glad you're coming back to Seattle, Mr. President. I'll do whatever I can to make sure my fellow progressive Washington voters and I don't let you (or Senator Murray) down. See you in a few weeks!
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Sunday, September 12, 2010
Day 255-Tea Partying
Dear Mr. President,
It's 9/12, so I suppose I should talk about the Tea Party. I'm not feeling particularly funny this evening, so I think I'll pass on the obvious opportunities to make jokes about their diversity, average age, fashion sense, or their confusion about American history. The Tea Party may not be much more than a fringe movement of angry white people, but it has an incredibly powerful media outlet representing it and spewing a worldview conforming to the Tea Party's narrative (or, more accurately, responsible for the shape of the Tea Party's narrative.) The Tea Party has gotten so much press in the last year that it seems like the whole country must have gone conservative. I think that's why so many Democrats are running scared. While their outlook for the midterms may not be so optimistic, I have to wonder if their poll numbers started dropping because of a conservative resurgence, or because they started legislating like they were afraid of one.
I've heard lots of ideas about reforming the Democratic party. Granted, most of what I hear (and most of what I think) comes from the left. The left would like to see Democrats act with courage, to stop governing like they've got to apologize for winning the election by pandering to the people who didn't vote for them. To stop compromising to no end. To take the gloves off when criticizing the obstructionist, hypocritical, xenophobic classism of the Republicans. I think this might save a few seats on our side of the aisle come November. But I don't think it's a party strategy that you (or your chief of staff) would take particularly seriously.
I think this is why the Tea Party is so popular. Not because the country is too far left, but because it is too stagnante and slow. The Tea Party might not have great ideas, but they're unscripted and unexpected. I think most of their candidates are even worse than the establishment Republicans they ran against in the primaries- but they resemble the kind of third-party shakeup of the system that our country needs (though preferably from a saner source with less corporate sponsorship.) So while I don't like them, agree with them, or even respect them, I do understand why they came about. People are waiting on a word I'm sure you've got to be sick of hearing by now-change. Actual change. Change that makes voting feel less like an exercise in futility.
Several fellow bloggers are starting a movement to publicly burn ballots on election day. One of the things they would like to see changed is a requirement that each race have a "none of the above" option that, should it receive the most votes, would require a new election with new candidates. I admire the spirit behind this protest, even if I am not going to participate. For one thing, I am a supporter of Senator Murray and I do want to see her re-elected. I will not waste my chance to ensure (hopefully once and for all) that Dino Rossi isn't allowed to represent my state in National office. For another I'm not sure that refusing to vote is a way to be taken seriously by the government. But I understand the intent. The government shouldn't be allowed to ignore us and not take us seriously. The government should be terrified of us. This protest, just like the Tea Party, comes from the deep sense that the American people are not being listened to. That we are manipulated to keep the rich and powerful richer and more powerful. I believe in the values of the Democratic party. I want to be proud of this. I want to call myself a Democrat. Right now, all that seems to mean is centrist, compromising, cowardly and even, in some cases, corrupt. The Tea Party might have changed the Republican Party a little, but it's made the Democratic Party downright unrecognizable. We've got to stop running to the right every time we get frightened of it. The Tea Party has had its time, it has made its mark. But it isn't nearly as powerful or influential enough to justify the fear Democrats are showing this year.
So it's 9/12. Forget the polls. Forget FOX news. Forget the Tea Party. Forget the fear. Lead a Democratic Party that people in this country are proud to vote for and maybe this November won't be quite the massacre everyone is so worried about.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
It's 9/12, so I suppose I should talk about the Tea Party. I'm not feeling particularly funny this evening, so I think I'll pass on the obvious opportunities to make jokes about their diversity, average age, fashion sense, or their confusion about American history. The Tea Party may not be much more than a fringe movement of angry white people, but it has an incredibly powerful media outlet representing it and spewing a worldview conforming to the Tea Party's narrative (or, more accurately, responsible for the shape of the Tea Party's narrative.) The Tea Party has gotten so much press in the last year that it seems like the whole country must have gone conservative. I think that's why so many Democrats are running scared. While their outlook for the midterms may not be so optimistic, I have to wonder if their poll numbers started dropping because of a conservative resurgence, or because they started legislating like they were afraid of one.
I've heard lots of ideas about reforming the Democratic party. Granted, most of what I hear (and most of what I think) comes from the left. The left would like to see Democrats act with courage, to stop governing like they've got to apologize for winning the election by pandering to the people who didn't vote for them. To stop compromising to no end. To take the gloves off when criticizing the obstructionist, hypocritical, xenophobic classism of the Republicans. I think this might save a few seats on our side of the aisle come November. But I don't think it's a party strategy that you (or your chief of staff) would take particularly seriously.
I think this is why the Tea Party is so popular. Not because the country is too far left, but because it is too stagnante and slow. The Tea Party might not have great ideas, but they're unscripted and unexpected. I think most of their candidates are even worse than the establishment Republicans they ran against in the primaries- but they resemble the kind of third-party shakeup of the system that our country needs (though preferably from a saner source with less corporate sponsorship.) So while I don't like them, agree with them, or even respect them, I do understand why they came about. People are waiting on a word I'm sure you've got to be sick of hearing by now-change. Actual change. Change that makes voting feel less like an exercise in futility.
Several fellow bloggers are starting a movement to publicly burn ballots on election day. One of the things they would like to see changed is a requirement that each race have a "none of the above" option that, should it receive the most votes, would require a new election with new candidates. I admire the spirit behind this protest, even if I am not going to participate. For one thing, I am a supporter of Senator Murray and I do want to see her re-elected. I will not waste my chance to ensure (hopefully once and for all) that Dino Rossi isn't allowed to represent my state in National office. For another I'm not sure that refusing to vote is a way to be taken seriously by the government. But I understand the intent. The government shouldn't be allowed to ignore us and not take us seriously. The government should be terrified of us. This protest, just like the Tea Party, comes from the deep sense that the American people are not being listened to. That we are manipulated to keep the rich and powerful richer and more powerful. I believe in the values of the Democratic party. I want to be proud of this. I want to call myself a Democrat. Right now, all that seems to mean is centrist, compromising, cowardly and even, in some cases, corrupt. The Tea Party might have changed the Republican Party a little, but it's made the Democratic Party downright unrecognizable. We've got to stop running to the right every time we get frightened of it. The Tea Party has had its time, it has made its mark. But it isn't nearly as powerful or influential enough to justify the fear Democrats are showing this year.
So it's 9/12. Forget the polls. Forget FOX news. Forget the Tea Party. Forget the fear. Lead a Democratic Party that people in this country are proud to vote for and maybe this November won't be quite the massacre everyone is so worried about.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Thursday, September 2, 2010
Day 245-Pumpkin chocolate-chip cookies
Dear Mr. President,
The night of the 2008 election, after my best friend shattered two glasses full of beer toasting too enthusiastically with the man who would, months later, become her boyfriend but before we joined the gleeful crowd of celebrating Seattlites in the 6-mile walk to Capitol hill, we went into a 24-hour QFC. We were there to take pictures with the arugula and to send them to every McCain supporter we knew. While there, Chev found pumpkin-chocolate chip cookies in the bakery section. To me, those cookies have tasted like election night ever since. They're only a seasonal offering at the bakery and these days they don't ever seem to be made properly, so I've developed my own recipe for whenever I need to remember that feeling.
Buying pumpkin outside of fall is an inexplicably difficult thing to do. Strawberries from New Zealand that taste like nothing can be purchased in December and yet canned pumpkin is a "seasonal" item at most grocery stores. Sometimes I really don't get our national food system. Anyway, I managed to find some and so I've been making pumpkin desserts for weeks now. I'm making them tonight, the memories they inspire lifting my spirits and making me miss my best friend more than ever. Also the fact that I can manage to smell cloves and cinnamon means my cold probably isn't going to kill me before it goes away.
I'm baking because I'm worried. Not about dying from a cold (because that would be silly, right?) but about the oil rig explosion, the poll showing that Dino Rossi has a pretty good chance at being the next Washington State junior senator, and the fragile peace talks between Abbas and Netanyahu. I'm worried and so I'm baking. I'm blending spices and chopping up chocolate and making a huge mess with my Kitchen Aid mixer. It's great. I have taken all of my anxiety over things I can't control and I'm making something that will make my writers group tonight a little sweeter. It isn't fixing anything, but sometimes keeping calm is the most I can ask of myself. My kitchen smells like election night tastes. Nothing against QFC, but I think that this version might be even better, actually. I'm not giving up on Patty Murray or on keeping the House or on keeping the White House in 2012. Winning just tastes too good.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Yes we can! Pumpkin Chocolate-Chip Cookies
Adapted from allrecipes.
Ingredients
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon ground ginger
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter, softened
1 cup white sugar
1/4 cup maple syrup
1 can pumpkin puree (15 oz)
1 egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
8-12oz chocolate chips or chopped very dark chocolate
Preheat oven to 350. Sift together flour, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, ground cloves, ginger and salt; set aside.
In a mixer, cream together the 1/2 cup of butter, maple syrup and sugar. Add pumpkin, egg, and 1 teaspoon vanilla to butter mixture, and beat until creamy. Mix in dry ingredients and then add chocolate.
Bake for 15 to 20 minutes.
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Day 229- Welcome to Seattle
Dear Mr. President,
For all of the traffic-snarling inconvenience, it was really exciting to have you back in Seattle after so many years. (A sentiment that might be easier for me to express, as I don't drive, but I'm sure the commuters got over it.) It's too bad that the Secret Service said no to your stroll around town because it really was a lovely day out. Early returns from the primary are showing a healthy and unsurprising victory for Patty Murray, which is a good sign for Washington. If Dino Rossi manages to rally enough supporters to win in the general, I'll worry for the Senate even more than i already do. It may be purely symbolic, but having you visit Washington after so long almost felt like an attempt to assure solidly blue states that you haven't forgotten us. Or maybe Senator Murray's re-election is less assured than you're comfortable with. Either way, it was good to have you in the city. Apparently you even got to visit my neighborhood.
The howling sirens of your motorcade really took me back to my time in DC. It used to amaze me to see the Presidential motorcade (or the smaller processions of other government officials) speeding through the streets. I always wondered if the powerful occupants of the limos and SUVs ever noticed the run-down neighborhoods or the homeless men and women on the corners downtown. I know that as the country's leader you're constantly aware of the big-picture problems we face, the crushing effects of unemployment and poverty. Sometimes I wonder if your position distances you from the reality of these problems too much to see them as more than an abstraction or political liability. But that's more cynical than I'm comfortable being on a night like this.
Thank you for visiting Seattle. I hope it doesn't take another 4 years to get you back here, but I suppose there are worse things than having a reliably liberal population. Have a safe trip home.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
For all of the traffic-snarling inconvenience, it was really exciting to have you back in Seattle after so many years. (A sentiment that might be easier for me to express, as I don't drive, but I'm sure the commuters got over it.) It's too bad that the Secret Service said no to your stroll around town because it really was a lovely day out. Early returns from the primary are showing a healthy and unsurprising victory for Patty Murray, which is a good sign for Washington. If Dino Rossi manages to rally enough supporters to win in the general, I'll worry for the Senate even more than i already do. It may be purely symbolic, but having you visit Washington after so long almost felt like an attempt to assure solidly blue states that you haven't forgotten us. Or maybe Senator Murray's re-election is less assured than you're comfortable with. Either way, it was good to have you in the city. Apparently you even got to visit my neighborhood.
The howling sirens of your motorcade really took me back to my time in DC. It used to amaze me to see the Presidential motorcade (or the smaller processions of other government officials) speeding through the streets. I always wondered if the powerful occupants of the limos and SUVs ever noticed the run-down neighborhoods or the homeless men and women on the corners downtown. I know that as the country's leader you're constantly aware of the big-picture problems we face, the crushing effects of unemployment and poverty. Sometimes I wonder if your position distances you from the reality of these problems too much to see them as more than an abstraction or political liability. But that's more cynical than I'm comfortable being on a night like this.
Thank you for visiting Seattle. I hope it doesn't take another 4 years to get you back here, but I suppose there are worse things than having a reliably liberal population. Have a safe trip home.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Saturday, August 14, 2010
Day 226- Perseids
Update: President Obama seems to have walked back his courageous words from last night to the tepid centrism he's clearly more comfortable with. *SIGH*
Dear Mr. President,
Thursday night, two friends and I stayed out late to watch the Perseid meteor shower. Though we were not far from the city, a local park provided enough darkness to witness the truly impressive show the stars were putting on that night. It was an unusually chilly August night, and we huddled in blankets and sleeping bags to keep out the cold. At times it looked like the sky was being torn, the meteors were so bright. I've been an amateur astronomy geek my whole life, but I've never seen anything half as amazing as the Perseids.
While lying there, we were discussing your impending visit to Seattle. We'd like to come see you, but we're not exactly in a financial position to afford a plate at Patty Murray's fundraiser. (That being said, I hope your presence draws a considerable crowd. If Murray loses to either of her Republican challengers it will be a sad day indeed for Washington voters and the Senate.) We thought about trying to find a place in the crowd outside to catch even a glimpse of the President we admire and helped elect. Perhaps the light show in the sky contributed to my very small, powerless feeling at that moment. I joked that I should bring one of the form letters the White House has sent me, to see if I could get you to sign it for real. Inside, I wasn't quite so amused at my own insignificance.
It isn't that I think I'm important enough to deserve your attention, Mr. President. It's the helplessness of knowing that so few people like me will ever have any hope of catching your ear, let alone being heard. When I say people like me, I mean the non-wealthy, non-swing-state-voter, non-elderly. That class that isn't middle class enough to make a good all-American photo op. Just a little too far left to be taken seriously. You might tape a message to Netroots Nation, but talking at us and listening to us are worlds apart. There's no power to be gained in taking my generation seriously, I suppose, but we are the next leaders of this country and a significant factor in your re-election.
Shortly after Robert Gibbs' remarks about the professional left, I got an e-mail, (ostensibly from you, but clearly written by an intern,) asking me to commit to vote in 2010. To sign my name to promise that I'll be there. This transparent scramble for reassuring data was probably the most offensive OFA e-mail I've ever received. You want me to commit to supporting your candidates? After your press secretary trashed the ideological left? While your administration acts like we're nothing more than a shrill pest? I'm sorry, Mr. President, but you're going to have to do a lot better than a form e-mail to re-engage your base. I'm not asking for an autograph, a seat at the table, or even a new press secretary; I'm asking for an administration that actually empowers the people it asks to show up on election day. A White House that feels less like watching a barely-comprehensible cosmic event and more like a group of people who have the interests of voters (and not just donors) at heart.
Anyway, Mr. President, maybe it's just been a rough week. I wish there was some way I could show you how much I want to believe in you, and in this country again. I wish there was some way of reaching you at all. Even if it's just as useless as shouting at the sky, I'm going to keep writing, keep blogging, keep pestering you about the things you promised us. If you never respond to a single letter, if you never know I exist at all, that's fine. I just hope you find a way to hear the parts of this country you're ignoring, before you realize they won't be coming out to vote in November.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Dear Mr. President,
Thursday night, two friends and I stayed out late to watch the Perseid meteor shower. Though we were not far from the city, a local park provided enough darkness to witness the truly impressive show the stars were putting on that night. It was an unusually chilly August night, and we huddled in blankets and sleeping bags to keep out the cold. At times it looked like the sky was being torn, the meteors were so bright. I've been an amateur astronomy geek my whole life, but I've never seen anything half as amazing as the Perseids.
While lying there, we were discussing your impending visit to Seattle. We'd like to come see you, but we're not exactly in a financial position to afford a plate at Patty Murray's fundraiser. (That being said, I hope your presence draws a considerable crowd. If Murray loses to either of her Republican challengers it will be a sad day indeed for Washington voters and the Senate.) We thought about trying to find a place in the crowd outside to catch even a glimpse of the President we admire and helped elect. Perhaps the light show in the sky contributed to my very small, powerless feeling at that moment. I joked that I should bring one of the form letters the White House has sent me, to see if I could get you to sign it for real. Inside, I wasn't quite so amused at my own insignificance.
It isn't that I think I'm important enough to deserve your attention, Mr. President. It's the helplessness of knowing that so few people like me will ever have any hope of catching your ear, let alone being heard. When I say people like me, I mean the non-wealthy, non-swing-state-voter, non-elderly. That class that isn't middle class enough to make a good all-American photo op. Just a little too far left to be taken seriously. You might tape a message to Netroots Nation, but talking at us and listening to us are worlds apart. There's no power to be gained in taking my generation seriously, I suppose, but we are the next leaders of this country and a significant factor in your re-election.
Shortly after Robert Gibbs' remarks about the professional left, I got an e-mail, (ostensibly from you, but clearly written by an intern,) asking me to commit to vote in 2010. To sign my name to promise that I'll be there. This transparent scramble for reassuring data was probably the most offensive OFA e-mail I've ever received. You want me to commit to supporting your candidates? After your press secretary trashed the ideological left? While your administration acts like we're nothing more than a shrill pest? I'm sorry, Mr. President, but you're going to have to do a lot better than a form e-mail to re-engage your base. I'm not asking for an autograph, a seat at the table, or even a new press secretary; I'm asking for an administration that actually empowers the people it asks to show up on election day. A White House that feels less like watching a barely-comprehensible cosmic event and more like a group of people who have the interests of voters (and not just donors) at heart.
Anyway, Mr. President, maybe it's just been a rough week. I wish there was some way I could show you how much I want to believe in you, and in this country again. I wish there was some way of reaching you at all. Even if it's just as useless as shouting at the sky, I'm going to keep writing, keep blogging, keep pestering you about the things you promised us. If you never respond to a single letter, if you never know I exist at all, that's fine. I just hope you find a way to hear the parts of this country you're ignoring, before you realize they won't be coming out to vote in November.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
Monday, April 26, 2010
Day 116
“I am deeply disappointed that Senate Republicans voted in a block against allowing a public debate on Wall Street reform to begin. Some of these Senators may believe that this obstruction is a good political strategy, and others may see delay as an opportunity to take this debate behind closed doors, where financial industry lobbyists can water down reform or kill it altogether. But the American people can’t afford that. A lack of consumer protections and a lack of accountability on Wall Street nearly brought our economy to its knees, and helped cause the pain that has left millions of Americans without jobs and without homes. The reform that both parties have been working on for a year would prevent a crisis like this from happening again, and I urge the Senate to get back to work and put the interests of the country ahead of party.
President Barack Obama, 4/26/2010
Dear Mr. President,
Today's setback in the fight for financial reform was disappointing, but I hope that senate Democrats will not back down. Are the Republicans ever going to stop obstructing legislation for the sake of politics? If my state had any republican Senators, I'd be incredibly disappointed in them. I hope voters in the states represented by these 41 no votes make sure their Senators are held accountable for being so out of touch.
Speaking of my home state of Washington, the Organizing For America e-mail today about our 2010 strategy got me thinking about Senator Murray's re-election. Dino Rossi, the man likely to be selected to run against her, has failed in his attempts to become our governor for as long as I can remember. He's not a complete hack; he's a tasteless campaigner unafraid of blanketing the state airwaves with negative ads, but when he served in the Washington State Senate he was relatively bipartisan and accomplished a fair amount for a republican. That being said, I was really hoping he'd slink off into the abyss of political obscurity after losing gubernatorial campaigns twice in a row. If OFA wants me to help Senator Murray hand him yet another defeat, I'd be honored to do so. Rossi, as a Washington Republican, might still be further left than many of the blue dog Democrats, but today's block of financial reform legislation clearly demonstrates that independently-minded Republicans certainly don't act that way when it counts.
I know that there will be many tight races this year, and a number of those Democrats will need your help campaigning and raising money. I hope that you schedule allows you to visit Seattle to help Senator Murray, as well. We're really a lovely city, and besides, your favorite chocolates are here, waiting for you.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
President Barack Obama, 4/26/2010
Dear Mr. President,
Today's setback in the fight for financial reform was disappointing, but I hope that senate Democrats will not back down. Are the Republicans ever going to stop obstructing legislation for the sake of politics? If my state had any republican Senators, I'd be incredibly disappointed in them. I hope voters in the states represented by these 41 no votes make sure their Senators are held accountable for being so out of touch.
Speaking of my home state of Washington, the Organizing For America e-mail today about our 2010 strategy got me thinking about Senator Murray's re-election. Dino Rossi, the man likely to be selected to run against her, has failed in his attempts to become our governor for as long as I can remember. He's not a complete hack; he's a tasteless campaigner unafraid of blanketing the state airwaves with negative ads, but when he served in the Washington State Senate he was relatively bipartisan and accomplished a fair amount for a republican. That being said, I was really hoping he'd slink off into the abyss of political obscurity after losing gubernatorial campaigns twice in a row. If OFA wants me to help Senator Murray hand him yet another defeat, I'd be honored to do so. Rossi, as a Washington Republican, might still be further left than many of the blue dog Democrats, but today's block of financial reform legislation clearly demonstrates that independently-minded Republicans certainly don't act that way when it counts.
I know that there will be many tight races this year, and a number of those Democrats will need your help campaigning and raising money. I hope that you schedule allows you to visit Seattle to help Senator Murray, as well. We're really a lovely city, and besides, your favorite chocolates are here, waiting for you.
Respectfully yours,
Kelsey
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