I'm never quite sure what to do with the pins, bumper stickers and other political paraphernalia I accumulate after an election season. Keeping them on makes me feel annoying. Taking them down right away makes me feel disingenuous, like I was a fair-weather fan all along. And so I keep them around, taking up space and collecting dust in various places in my apartment.
It's the reason my Kerry/Edwards pin still sits idly in my room. I haven't worn it since 2004, but I can't seem to part with it. Part of me keeps it in case I'm ever in an ""I told you so"" situation. Maybe I'm keeping it to show my grandkids the relic so they realize how old I am, and thus let me say whatever I want and sleep in as long as I wish.
Besides, why throw away a ""kiss me I voted"" pin? It's like a piece of mistletoe that's festive year round.
But on Wednesday I awoke with a strange new feeling: Keeping my pins on made me feel like I was rubbing it in. The night before I had stayed up well into the wee hours of the morning, disregarding any rational motives for slumber, such as rapidly approaching morning lectures. I suspected my professors would understand.
My Tuesday night had been spent with eyes glued to CNN for several hours, cheering and jeering (mostly cheering) and listening to water analogies like wave and tsunami to describe what was happening. Waiting with baited breath for the returns from a small district hundreds of miles away to dictate my mood for the next two years is a sickness I wouldn't wish upon anyone.
I've been in a daze ever since the election, a sort of news junkie hangover. It has been an indescribable feeling of optimism. Apart from a few local races, Democrats won in a landslide. It was the type of election people will remember for a long time.
Since then, I occasionally turn on CNN hoping to relive the excitement, but it's always some B-rate talking heads arguing about Nancy Pelosi or the ""blogosphere."" There are no more precincts to report, only a few desperate Republicans demanding a recount like a kid who's just lost at Monopoly.
The party had ended. It was back to business as usual in newsrooms across the country. There were hundreds of stories to be written, infinitely more angles to be taken before the dust would settle, but for now the sun was shining, and I couldn't help but feel like the 12 dark years of overcast dreariness were over. The unseasonably warm weather made me smile, if only for the fact that I couldn't help but admire the coincidence.
In a way it felt like a walk of shame. I was tired and perhaps still slightly intoxicated, but it sure didn't feel like a typical Wednesday morning. Dozens of newly obsolete chalk messages remained on the sidewalks, reminding me of a more apprehensive era. Aside from the momentary grief for the chalk industry, whose profits will surely crash in the coming weeks, it was a magnificent feeling.
Somewhere along the way to class I decided I'd keep the pins on for at least a few more days, or until I get my Obama/Feingold '08 pin, whichever comes first.
