Just like the song says

(minus the wanting to have sex with Obama part) I’m obsessed with the outcome of tomorrow.

I have an O B S E S S I O N.

I’m compelled to check the latest polls from no less than ten of the most independent polling agencies once per hour (on a slow day). And when I say “a slow day” I’m talking about a day when I convince myself to peel my twitchy eyeballs away from all things political and teach my children life skills that have nothing to do with the my bleeding socialist heart, the silent escalation of racism or having hope despite a lack of fresh air within this thick, filthy cloud of economic decline. I’ve recalculated McCain’s slim chances at grabbing 270 electoral votes by inputting various scenarios on John King’s “Magic Wall” ad nauseum. Scenarios like the entire state of California losing its collective marbles and voting for Sarah Palin. Of course that only lasts five seconds before I let out a giggle of relief and quickly click it back to blue. I’ve spent hours scouring IReports, trying to decipher the general consensus. Which, rationally speaking, is impossible to do until the morning November 5th.

But it’s killing me softly inside.

I’ve been stifling the volcanic eruption that’s been tickling the back of my throat for two months by absolutely disallowing myself the pleasure of letting go and believing in the goodness and resilience of humanity. Because I can’t. I can’t feel that way again. I can’t take any of the hope for granted. I’ll always have that niggling fear over whether or not there is indeed a firm hand on the red button, waiting, skulking in the dark for the exact moment during which a terrorist attack is most needed.

And I silently and often noisily worry that a black man winning the presidency is precisely that moment for many.

I don’t want to subscribe to conspiracy theories by nature, but it can’t be helped it seems. I’ve felt so violated by the propaganda and rhetoric for song long. I no longer know what is and what isn’t politically speaking. I no longer wonder exactly how far somebody can go in the name of God. I no longer gasp in horror at the audacious decisions made by our elected leaders anymore.

I’ve lost my optimism and assurance that if we all just vote……if we all just make our voices heard.

*disclaimer* Renée is ordinarily an extremely cheerful, reliant person. She loves human beings and trusts them. She tries to and usually succeeds at seeing the very best in a person. Even GWB for Pete’s sake, she believes is a very good rancher.

She’s holding it all within her tightly-wound chest, guardedly anticipating a let-down but truly hoping for, with all the might she’s built up over the past four years, for her faith in humanity to be restored.

She wants to see herself as others saw her in 2004:

Except this time she wants to win.