I know, I know

It's been a while. What can I say?

I've spent the past two or three weeks sans wedding planning. Other stuff was on my mind. Work. Taxes. State taxes (Virginia, you are a cruel mistress). Property taxes. blah, blah, blah.

Anyway, I still have yet to tackle a significant task: the bridesmaid dresses. Why? I'm trying to find one that
a.) comes in a color I like
b.) is a reasonably flattering design (or at least equally insulting to all body types... sorry gals but you're wearing orange silk shantung halters if i say so because it's MY WEDDING. bwuhahahaaa)
c.) comes in a variety of sizes, including maternity (or a compatible maternity style that comes in the same color/fabric)
d.) IS NOT TAFFETA.

Guys, let's have a little pow-wow here. Why is taffeta the hot ticket item for all things bridesmaid? It wrinkles like mad. It photographs weird. It is a loud fabric-- when you touch it, it makes noise. It is a cold fabric. Maybe nice for summer, but hecky no for an October wedding.

So why am I finding all kinds of nice designs that only come in taffeta? come on.

I know I'll find something I like soon, but it feels like all the decorative endeavors of a wedding hinge on the wedding colors. And I just can't commit to a set of wedding colors. That's so stupid. Heh. I have no problem committing to a person, obviously, but a COLOR? whoa now, little filly.

I guess I can't pick because I really don't care that much about it. As in... it can wait. Shoot, ladies-- show up in your jammies for all I care*. I want to find something nice and classy and all, but I don't want to break my neck over this. I have the groom, I have a location, and I have a dress. Everything else is just the icing on the cake.

*Do not bring this statement back to my attention when I pick out the groomsmen's cummerbunds, thanks.

just kidding. no cummerbunds.

The Wedding Wave, 2009

So maybe you've noticed that just a scoche less than everyone in the mid-20's age range is getting married this year.

I'm one of these many brides-to-be, and at first I didn't care. It didn't make any difference to Mike and me-- this is where we are in our relationship, whether we felt like we were part of the Sun Myung Moon Mass Wedding of '82 or not.

Then I was excited about being in the company of so many others who, say, were looking at centerpiece ideas at the same time. Hello, we can all gripe about the retail markup of veils TOGETHER. I mean, they're just a yard of tulle with a ribbon edge, amiright? What could be more fun than that? We could all squee with unified delight when one of us finds The Dress or The Pantsuit or whatever.

Now I'm a little bummed, because everywhere I go there is bridal chatter. And people, I am what I am-- I can not help but compare myself to others. Now I get to fight feeling inadequate because I haven't started looking for a dress, because I can't rank my friends enough to pick a maid of honor, because I can't decide on a color scheme, or because I'm less organized than I want to be, or maybe just because I don't have my best friends or family down here to help me. And despite constant reassurance from Mike that everything's going to be great, well... bluh.

I feel even sorrier for people who have to listen to all this and AREN'T part of the wedding who-hah.

ease my troubles, that's what you do.

Ladies and gentlemen, I am getting married. True story.

Mike proposed to me on Valentine's Day, and I said yes.

"Valentine's Day?" you say. "How cliche!" you say. Yes and yes, my friends... but we don't care. Mike could have asked me on the JumboTron at the Super Bowl, spelled it out in Cheerios on the kitchen counter, or just said, rather tipsily in a Pittsburgh bowling alley, "You know, I really wanna marry you!" And I would have agreed with equal enthusiasm in either instance.

I specify the third instance because that's kind of how it all started coming together.

We spent a week visiting each other's families in January. I had just quit my old job and was a week away from starting a new one, so Mike and I packed up the dog (Eli) and headed first to Pittsburgh, then to Columbus, and then back to Pittsburgh. It was during the second trip to P-burgh that we went bowling along with all manner of kind-hearted old blue-collar men and their bowling leagues, and just marveled at how much we loved being together.

Mike had met my family-- my Mom and most of my siblings with their respective families, and he fit right in. Everyone approved of him, as they should have. And his family seemed to like me well enough. The trip went really well, and we were getting excited about the idea of building a life together with each other.

We were bowling six or so games at this bowling alley/arcade/lazer tag place in his hometown the night before we were going to head back to Richmond. Mike, having enjoyed a round or two of the alley's finest drafts, leaned back in the plastic seat and stared at me with a glaze over his eyes and a smug grin on his face. "I really wanna marry you," he said.

I didn't know what to say to that... I mean, was he actually ASKING me, or just kind of blurting things out? Mike's a wear-your-heart-on-your-sleeve kind of guy, so I just smiled... but I was glowing on the inside.

Later in the evening, he introduced me to Bill, a retired fireman bowling in the lane beside us. He introduced me as his "future fiancee." ruh-roh, Andrea... looks like he's serious! Anyway, Mike's closet Pittsburgh accent came out a lot in the alley-- when Bill wouldn't let Mike buy him another frame of bowling, Mike said, "Ah, c'mon Bill! You're lettin' me dahn!" heh. Furthermore, Bill had earlier apologized for "interruptin' yunz game" to give us some coupons for buy-one-get-one free bowling.

Anyway.

When we came back to Richmond, we started to discuss seriously the idea of us getting married. We both knew for sure that the other was the person we wanted to be with. I knew Mike was the only guy for me. And he knew I was the girl he had been looking for. This relationship... what we have between us... it doesn't get any more perfect than this. Pardon my coarse language, but I can honestly be 100% myself around this man, and he STILL thinks the sun shines out of my butt. And vice versa.

So we have decided to get married this October. Shortly after we decided this, Mike proposed to me. It seemed a little backwards at first-- planning a marriage before you've even been officially asked-- but from what I gather it seems that most modern couples just kind of do it that way. It's just how it went for us, and since it works-- who cares? Plus, he had already sort of asked, if you count the bowling alley thing.

So come along, ladies and gentlemen. As time permits, I want to chronicle the wedding preparation process on my blog. Enjoy the ups and downs of Bridezilladom as I go through food and cake options, floral arrangements, color schemes, dress debacles, and all manner of cow-having for the next eight months.

c'est si bon.

save the date

Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a wild ride the past month or so. I'm gonna kick the blog back into high gear sometime this week. Details to come.

has been?

There appears to be an inverse correlation between the frequency of my weblog posts and the activity of my love life.

I'd certainly rather have an active romance than an active blog.

I would argue, to myself, that a good writer ought to be writing... but I guess the pent-up angst from which the weblog once came has been released, or perhaps re-routed, into other channels of creative expression.

I suspect a lot of my posts over the past four years of blogging were just done out of joy for the attention they garnered. I've always been someone who loves to perform. The performer is shaped by the audience, though. I had a cool college blog, and college has been over for a while now. I don't have the adventures I used to-- I still have adventures, mind you, but they're quite different nowadays.

I dunno. I'm happier with my life now than I can ever remember being, even at the height of my creativity.

(especially at the height of my creativity, actually.)

But I guess I'm a little bummed that I'm not (what I consider) inspired anymore.

I imagine I'm just getting to that point in life where things are less about what will be and more about what is. Less thinking about creating a life of my own, and more living the life of my own that I've already created.

Not that there isn't still an infinite amount of what will be. And not that there still isn't a lot of shaping to do about the amorphous yet-to-come of my next fifty years or so.

But now I get to begin enjoying some of what I've already shaped for myself.

And when I'm busy enjoying, it apparently means I'm not writing about it.

make the nose breath stop

I'm sitting at my cubicle, and the only thing I can hear is a nearby co-worker breathing through their nose.

I'm about to scream.

Why does that stuff drive me up the wall?

heh, I also kind of hate it when people repetitively eat loudly.

The kind of gutteral, smacky, salival noises that people make when they pay no attention to the noise they generate. bluh.

-----------------------------------------------

I've got four weeks left of my illustrious Emerging Infectious Diseases Fellowship. I think I've gotten everything out of it that my particular host facility was able to provide... so it looks like from here on out I'll just be doing a little routine testing.

I've also sort of volunteered to be the PCR Lab Wench. I'm aliquotting reagents. I'm bleaching off the tube racks. Bust out the C1V1 = C2V2, 'cause I'm makin' us some 70% EtOH.

It's been a good run but I can't wait to start something new.

Can't.

Wait.

25 ain't bad so far.

Ladies and gentlemen, I got the clinical microbiology lab job.

huzzah!

I will begin in late January. It's a job with a lot of great features-- a high-complexity, high-throughput laboratory in a teaching hospital, where the longer I stay, the more I would learn how to do. There will be opportunities to participate in research studies and take free college courses.

Not to mention that I really enjoy the actual work.

Look, I already know I'm a huge nerd, so I have no qualms about saying how much I enjoy medical technology. Bacterial identification is interesting to me-- it's like solving small mysteries every day. Bacteria have personality-- they change their characteristics quite often as a means of survival and evolution, so the mind of a microbiologist has to keep up with the changes.

Anyway... I'm happy.

Know why else I'm happy? Because I have a great boyfriend.

I could write pages on what a great guy Mike is. I could tell you that he is friendly, positive, generous, funny, open, and amazingly smart.

But what you should know is that he makes me happy. And anyone who knows me can tell you, that is no simple task.

I've only been 25 for five days, but it's already looking pretty good.

I must not have a face for service-oriented careers

The interview went very well. I don't know how long it will be before I hear anything.

I certainly appreciate an employer that has good interview questions. Now, I'm still young in my career and haven't had more than a handful of "serious" job interviews, but I think you can probably tell a lot about a potential employer by the kinds of questions they ask you in your interview.

Ideally, in addition to general job qualifications and competence, an employer is looking for a good personality fit from a candidate. If I were managing a group of people, I'd want to hire somebody that wasn't going to make everyone's life miserable. I'd want to hire somebody the others could get along with, who would make coming to work a reasonably pleasant experience for the others. If possible. That's the kind of worker I try to be, so I guess that must be the way I think things should be done.

But that's pretty tough to determine from an interview alone, when everyone's got their game face on.

Anyway, this employer asked me some very good, technically-relevant questions. I felt like I was able to demonstrate that I am a competent clinical lab scientist, and that I do have good, unique qualities that would make me a good hire.

The easiest interview I ever had was at the hospital worked in back home. I think they were just thrilled to find an entry-level lab tech with my academic background.

The toughest interview was for the EID Fellowship Program. I prepared for that thing for weeks! Four PhD-level public health scientists, one Andrea. Nothin but net.

There are two interviews that tie for the title of "Worst. Interview. Ever."

1.) Barnes and Noble. Apparently shelving books and/or conjuring up a venti Frappucino is VERY SERIOUS BUSINESS, PEOPLE. They ran the gamut of "tell us about a time when you set goals and achieved them/dealt with a difficult co-worker/made the sun shine out of a bodily orifice of your choosing" type questions, but my absolute favorite was:

"Tell us about a time you failed."

I have no idea what I answered. All my job experience to that point had been retail (not that this interview was for a retail job or anything...) so I whipped up some obscure example of being unable to find a certain product for a customer and how that taught me the true meaning of Christmas or whatever. Because, you know, ALL my failures in life are things I'd readily discuss with a potential employer to show him what a gem I am.

At the end, the boss essentially told me that, because they were such hot stuff, they reserved the right to be as picky as they wanted. (i.e., BYE NOW)

The other real doozy of an interview was actually my very first "real" job interview:

2.) Etna Dairy Queen. I don't know HOW you fail an interview for DQ, but I guess I did it. But that's not really what made the interview noteworthy-- the clencher was that the DQ had not been completely built yet, so interviews for potential soft-serve slingers were being held in the back room of a garage in the gas station next door.

Really.

Me, sixteen years old, with a crusty middle-aged man in a dank, oil-slicked garage. Alone. With my Mom waiting in the car outside. HEAVENS YES, let's get this career STARTED!

Right, so... I never got a call back from that job. I went to that DQ a few times after it opened, and it was always manned by cutesy little teen queens.

Did I mention I wasn't much of a looker at sixteen? Cause I wasn't. Trust me, I was there. I'll always wonder if that's why I didn't get the job.

At any rate, here's hoping for the laboratory.

north vs. south, volume twelve

Guess who's got a big fat job interview on Monday. daaaaaaaang right!

It's for a microbiology lab position, not unlike the one I had back in C-bus. I do so love the microbiology. It seems this job will also allow for me to begin part-time classes this fall. At this particular juncture, I am leaning more toward yes for school than no.

-------

On an unrelated topic, the only Caribou Coffee to be found within a 50-mile radius of Richmond is in the Richmond Airport. That's not a location particularly conducive to my typical coffee-house shenanigans (studying, thinking, reading, usw.)

Not that there's anything wrong with the Starbuckies, but I just like Caribou and wish there were some around here. But then, I am not in college anymore. I don't have heart-to-hearts with my college gal pals over a steaming cup of what-have-you. Most of the time I just brew my own coffee (which I can do Caribou style, as they sometimes sell the beans in grocery stores) and sit around my apartment like an old lady. An old lady who plays Mariokart and sings out loud to nobody.

Also, I'm terribly short of coffee-lovin friends here. Dang Southerners and their sweet tea. If it weren't for that silly Mason-Dixon-fueled predisposition to tea over coffee, there would be Caribous and Cup O' Joes all over the dang place.

Maybe some expatriated Southerners are saying the same thing in Milwaukee. "Dang Northerners and their lattes. What does someone have to do to get some red velvet cake around here?"

ain't ready for the acrylics

Hellooooo, Newman.

I am back in R-VA after a lovely trip to my hometown. I didn't see all the people I wanted to, but I still got to have some good times.

I really think the shopping is better in Columbus than Richmond. I'm probably biased because I know C-bus so well, but even after a year and some change in Richmond I still don't get that jazzed about shopping like I do when I'm home. I know where all the same stores are located here, but I dunno.

Maybe it's the company. My Richmond friends aren't mallrats the way my Columbus friends and I are. It's probably because Columbus is a huge test market for a lot of stores, restaurants, and products, and we're a little spoiled by it. For example: Hello Kitty pop tarts. We have them back home at Meijer, but a.) there are no Meijers in Richmond, and b.) there are no Hello Kitty (or raspberry, for that matter) pop tarts to be found here anyway.

When people ask what Meijer is, I tell them it's Wal-Mart minus the Ick Factor. It's the love child of Ukrop's and Wal-Mart. The homeyness of Ukrop's with the size, prices, and selection of Wal-Mart. win-win situation.

But that's cool. You know. I don't need Hello Kitty pop tarts. No big deal.

Anyway, going home afforded me the opportunity to go through all my old stuff to look for things to take back with me. I brought scrubs, because I'm hoping to get a med tech job here very soon. I brought some old textbooks, some clothes, and some art supplies, but I still left so much behind because I don't feel all that settled yet.

I feel settled enough to bring the colored pencils and craft scissors, but not enough to bring the oil paints and the easel. Ya dig? There's a metaphor in there somewhere.

Journey Back to Cowtown

Tomorrow morning I'm heading back to the homeland-- Columbus, Ohio.

I can not WAIIIIIIIIIT to catch up with my family and friends. I want:

• breakfast with Beth
• catch-up and mutual googly-eyed boyfriend story sharing with Arielle
• shopping with Martha
• dinner with Tami
• more shopping and happy funtimes with Jamie and Susanna
• coffee with the Moore girls
• tomfoolery with Emily
• life re-evaluation with Sandy
• yummy thanksgibbin with my awesome siblings
• all manner of cheek-pinching and snuggly business with the nine offspring of said siblings
• and --most of all-- youngest-child syndrome lovins from my Mommy.

Seriously. I love home.

c'est la vie, et la vie est bonne.

computer-chair psychologists, this one's all yours

I took that GRE, all right. I kicked it right in the teeth.

I'm actually pretty happy with my score. It wouldn't get me into an ivy league grad program, by any means, but it'll be quite sufficient for any of the graduate plans I've had in mind.

So now it's time for the obligatory grad school waffle. Am I going to go through with it? Am I just going after it because I feel I have a moral obligation to fulfill my mental potential? Is there any part of this plan that involves me doing this just for ME? Or is that even the point?

I can hear a cadre of thirty- and forty-somethings screaming after me, "DO IT NOW! GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY, DO IT NOW WHILE YOU STILL CAN!" as they shake a can of Lemon Pledge and prepare to dust the baseboards while their 2.5 children are away at school.

I'm having a hard enough time finding a job for when my fellowship's over as it is. It seems kind of self-flagellatory to jump into a new job and part-time graduate school in the same year, doesn't it?

Maybe I should wait until I'm more established in a routine before adding school. I wish I could just do this program full-time, but financially it's just not an option.

All this from an overdeveloped sense of self-improvement.

I don't think it'd be too much of a stretch to call it a self-improvement complex, even.

Or just straight-up, dirty ol' perfectionism.

commencing schlump mode

Tomorrow's the GRE, and folks... I'm not gonna act like I've been studying a whole lot.

cause I haven't.

I've been spending all my free time with my, uh... boyfriend.

Geez. I feel like I should highlight that word with pink glitter or something(a la MySpace graphics).

Anyway, he left today for a month-long work trip. So... a.) knowing that it was coming, we've spent tons of time together lately, and b.) now I get to be THAT GIRL who whines about missing her boyfriend. Something I clearly should have gotten out of my system in high school.

Better late than never at all, I guess.

So tonight I'm gonna go be emo in a coffee shop and do some last-minute brush-uppins for the GRE.

And tomorrow I'll be taking it while all my friends are gathered on my front porch cheering on the Richmond Marathon runners. They'll be eating pancakes and drinking coffee. ON MY PORCH. And I will be writing essays in a testing center in Glen Allen.

Some choose a marathon of the body; I choose a marathon of the mind.

heh. I almost kept a straight face while writing that.

can't complain...

I'm sorta glad I got this research business out of my system before I committed to something deadly like graduate school.

(side note: i AM planning to go to grad school next fall, but the program i'm doing is NOT research-based.)

Someone in the lab made a great analogy to research in science as opposed to other kinds of research-based graduate studies.

"It's just like going into the library to do your research, except the books are all out of order and have no labels."

Some days I just don't have the energy to use my brain. My ASM presentation is tomorrow, and I can not wait to get that over with. Then I'm taking the GRE next Saturday. I'm only SLIGHTLY mentally occupied.

You may have noticed that I abruptly quit posting about match.com.

That is because I abruptly quit using match.com.

Why is that? Well, I'm glad you asked.

It's because I don't want any more matches.

Because I found one. Or rather, he found me.

And for now, that's all I have to say about that. :-)

Iconic

Sung to the tune of Alanis Morrissette's "Ironic."


An old man and his running-mate
he won the primary after a two-term wait
Or a black guy and a whats-his-face
In a big deal election, two thousand and eight
And isn't it iconic, don't you think?

It's like ray-ee-aiiiin on election day
A free Starbucks when you've already paid
A Krispy Kreme when you're gainin' weight
And who knows if your vote matterrrrrrrs

Misters Ben and Jerry have caught your eye
Free scoops of iiiice cream if you have time to stop by
Do you want Barack-y Road or McCain Chip tonight?
And as you eat free Chick-Fil-A
You'll think, "well, wasn't that nice"

And isn't it iconic, don't you think?

It's like ray-ee-aiiiin on election day
A free Starbucks when you've already paid
A Krispy Kreme when you're gainin' weight
And who knows if your vote matterrrrrrrs

Well, votes have a funny way of judging up on you
When you think everything's okay and the decision you made was right
And votes have a funny way of singling you out when
You think everything's gone wrong and the radicals are all up
In your face

It's a moral issue when the economy ain't great
It's "no compromise" when there's too much at stake
It's like ten thousand wrongs when all you want is what's right
It's voting for the man I agree with
and despising some thing in his life.

And isn't it iconic... don't you think?
A little too iconic... yeah, I really DO think.

Dunder Mifflin, Richmond Branch

For Halloween, my lab dressed up as the cast from The Office.

Back row: Jim Halpert, Pam Beesly, Kelly Kapoor, Meredith Palmer, Holly Flax, Dwight Schrute

Front Row: Angela Martin (yours truly), Michael Scott, Jan Levinson with baby Astird

In what may easily be the best picture from the day: Meredith and Angela.

Unfortunately, there weren't that many people in the laboratory as a whole who understood our gag. They all had to ask why we were dressed up. We'd tell them who we were, and they'd say "ohhh.... ok... i don't really watch that show... "

Meh. what do you expect from a bunch of science nerds?

another day, another microsoft office application

I'm giving a presentation next weekend, at the Virginia branch ASM meeting, on my fellowship project.

It's weird to see so many months of work and research and technical experience wrapped up in a paltry Powerpoint lecture. But hey, that's research for ya.

I'm honestly not that jazzed about giving a presentation. I did one last fall at last year's meeting, and it was fine. I don't have a fundamental problem with giving lectures or presentations, provided I know what I'm talking about. I even sort of enjoyed it during my school days, especially if I could inject some humor or creativity into it.

I don't quite feel the freedom to do that nowadays. Now that there's real taxpayer money involved. Stupid apperance of professionalism. What a farce. I'm no professional. I dance in the laboratory. I do the elevator/escalator/stairs/rowboat gag when I walk by the windows of the PCR lab sometimes. shoot. I'm not trying to fool anybody.

Oh well. Mycobacteria are NO LAUGHING MATTER.

On another note-- diatoms just blow my mind.

a riot a minute

One week and some change into the internet dating scene, and I'm a little overwhelmed.

I've also joined an additional network, thx to plumpdumpling's behest: OkCupid. dot com.

Since OkCupid is free and has a bit of an edgier user interface, I made my profile a little less serious and a little more snarky. Plus, I was (still) worn out from the exhaustive introspection I'd had to do in order to whip up my match.com profile.

Either way... there are so many people out there. Sometimes I kind of feel like I'm trying to out-wit fate by doing my own self-matchmaking. Cheating. Give me the old fashioned days when a gentleman caller would come a-courtin' in the family parlour.

Mind you, quantity does not mean quality. I'm sure there are good guys in the mix (perhaps the male equivalent of myself lurks within), but they are hard to weed out among all the average, ho-hum kind of gentlemen in the field. All the dudes start to look the same after a while. Yeah, yeah, we get it. You're looking for a nice, friendly, athletic girl with a sense of humor who is just as happy sitting on the couch with you watching Family Guy as she is getting dressed up and going out on the town with you. No drama, no games. You're looking for something real. Blah, blah, blah. YOU AND EVERY OTHER DUDE ON THE INTERNET, JUNIOR.

Good thing I've got that whole "Christian, and yes I actually mean it" thing going for me. It's a good qualifying factor for interested parties. Best damn birth control I ever had. That and my sparkling personality.

i think i just wasted sixty bucks.

Yesterday evening, while I was browsing match.com, a local young gentleman contacted me (you can chat while you're logged on to the site).

I don't really like to chat with strangers online... but if I don't go out of my comfort zone just a hair, then I'll never get this dating business off the ground.

So I decided to say hello back to the gentleman. This wasn't even a guy whose profile I had looked at, or anything. His profile was sparse and uninformative, and all of his pictures were of him flexing, shirtless.

Muscleheads don't go after chicks like me, ok? It upsets the natural order of the universe. So I knew something was up.

After an especially brief exchange of small talk (hi. what's up. nothing much. what part of town are you from.) he asked if I wanted to come over and watch a movie. at 9 pm on a Wednesday.

Riiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight.

I said that it sounded fun but I was awfully tired, and perhaps might be up for meeting for a drink sometime. (in public. where i can have friends come and make sure there's no, uh... funny business.)

His response?

"it's still early. i have bud light, do you like that?"

um. one of us is getting the picture, and one of us is not. i declined.

Online matchmaking at its finest, ladies and gentlemen.

get ready

Obama's in town today.

From our building you can see the hordes of people outside the stadium he's going to be speaking in. The doors aren't opening for another hour, but people have been lined up for some time already.

I went to a presidential campaign rally once-- a Bush rally in 2004. THAT was a life experience. I was fresh off the heels of my study abroad trip to Europe, fresh from having met a world of new people with divergent ideologies (all of whom made it clear to us Americans how much they hated Bush and plead with us not to vote for him). I was back in the US with a new perspective, a new sense of independence, and a new eyebrow piercing.

-- Say what you want about the eyebrow piercing; I will maintain until my dying day that I liked it and have no regrets about having had it. --

Anyway... the Bush rally. An NHL hockey arena full of screaming Americans waving signs and chanting slogans for one man. My God, I don't know what it's like to be that excited about ANYTHING. Nothing's that black-and-white to me.

How absurd, it seemed, to see grown men in business suits booing the competitor as if he were a cartoon villain twirling his mustache and throwing a sacrificial virgin into a volcano.

I fully expect passionate people to care about the candidates they endorse. Don't get me wrong. If everyone approached politics the way I do, things just wouldn't get done.

But I wish people wouldn't approach elections as battles of good vs. evil. Because that is not what this is. Both candidates are human beings. Both parties have strengths and weaknesses, and obviously most people find they resonate with one's ideas more than the other.

It bothers me that I would actually lose some of my friends if I aired my political beliefs. That some people I know would truly think less of me if they knew I disagreed with them. That some people have such a misdeveloped sense of Truth, Justice, and the American Way that they don't see how anyone could be a worthwhile person and still vote for [whomever].

Some people even have the balls to say that someone "can't" be a Christian and still vote for the candidate they disagree with.

Geez.

That's right, guys, I can't possibly have a legitimate, deep-rooted Christian faith and disagree with you. I mean, hell. There's no WAY my viewpoint could have any merit or resonance with the Bible, right? 'cause Jesus was clearly a bleeding-heart liberal/whip-toting conservative, right? With the American flag pinned on His lapel, right?

Wrong. He equally championed Justice AND Mercy.

Vote for the candidate whom you want to be President, but remember it's two politicians running for office. It's not Jesus vs. Beelzebub on the ballot.