YELLING INTO THE WIND

In the year twenty, I wonder if we could observe

men and women standing atop mountainsides

disturbing the quiet sanctity of nature

by yelling into the wind at midnight.

 

There certainly is something freeing

about being the only voice heard for miles.

Anyone who has hiked a lonely mountain

knows that there is little more comfort found

than when one hears their own voice

echoing across the trees.

 

Until the realization sets in of how silly we look

when the noises die off. Then, the sinking feeling

that all we have done is waste energy yelling

hangs heavy for the latter half of the climb.

 

Which is often how I feel writing stories

about the newest barrage of hatred

spewed by a group of empty hearted men.

That if instead of yelling into the wind

I focused on climbing the mountains of hate

I would eventually reach the peak

and see a valley of love on the horizon.

——

 

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COVFEFE AND CLIMATE CHANGE

There is never a week that goes by when something entertaining isn’t going on. The Climate Change denial is real. The covfefe is real. The bragging about things that really don’t matter enough to be bragged about is real. But enough about Donald Trump. I can see the logic behind the argument against the Paris Agreement, but there is some fault in it. Namely, that if we don’t have a livable globe, the fact that someone is “for the people of Pittsburgh” is irrelevant. Because there will be no people left. Although, being for the people of Pittsburgh would indicate being for the people at all, which isn’t even clear to me. Though presenting a healthcare program that knocks some twenty million people off healthcare doesn’t seem to support a “for the people” position in the slightest.

Whatever. There are too many things to talk about today and I don’t want to get sidetracked through this whole post. Climate change. It is important because it is real. For anyone saying it isn’t real, take a moment and think to yourself: is it possible? If you answered yes, please read over the science, as I think you will find that your assertion is incorrect when presented with evidence. If you answered no, I’ll be responding personally.

So why not? Why can’t people cause climate change? Is it that the Earth is some sort of infinite object? For those of you reading along, this is one of the biggest reasons people don’t get climate change. They believe that the Earth is too big for us to have a real impact on it. This dates back to the Old Testament, and other religious inclinations that swayed society hundreds of years ago. The Earth is viewed as immortal, evergreen, etc. But think about it. It isn’t. It’s just a ball of matter.

Think of any ball of matter. Actually, lets think specifically of a ball of wood, the size of your hand. Put a lit match to that wood—just one. Now, it probably didn’t light up. Add in a few more matches. It might still not light up. But eventually, it will, right? Maybe after 10 matches, it lights up on the side, but dies out quickly. After 100, it ignites. That’s the problem with man-made climate change. It takes literally billions of matches to make an impact, because the Earth is huge. If you saw your house burning, you wouldn’t say “that’s nothing.” You would be thinking “Oh god! How do we put out this fire!?” The science is the writing on the wall, in the moments before ignition. The fires have started, and while some have burned out, people are still lighting matches. It won’t be long before it burns up.

Ok, yes it is true this is a bit of a crude metaphor, but it is a metaphor for a reason. And the logic is sound. The Earth is a ball of matter, like anything else, and it can only be burned so much. Pulling out of the Paris Agreement displays the ignorance of this situation. Truly caring for citizens—both of Pittsburgh and the rest of the world—is to protect them, their children, and all peoples there after.

——

 

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BUS RIDE

I ride the bus everyday,

With a variety of people.

There are homeless,

There are businessmen,

There are mothers with their children

Trying to get them to school.

 

Everyone smiles,

Some people wave,

And a couple brave souls venture to talk.

There is a new driver, Don,

And he’s a different kind of driver.

He hates the squeaky wheel.

 

The bus I ride everyday has a squeaky wheel—

The one at the front

On the passenger’s side.

When the bus runs smoothly

She mostly keeps quiet.

But when the bus brakes too hard

Or when the drive swerves dangerously

She makes a racket.

 

Most of us don’t mind the noise—

It reminds us that we need to get a car someday.

But Don—oh Don—he hates it.

He told me the bus line he used to run

Had no squeaky wheels.

Every bus was spick and span.

 

Don loathes the noise.

Every time it rears its head

He’ll shout out to the crowd.

What he doesn’t realize

Is that he’s part of the reason it squeaks.

 

Don drives too fast.

He likes to speed across railroad tracks

Instead of look both ways first.

He likes to take sharp turns

Going forty in a fifteen.

So it’s no wonder she hollers at him.

 

But the problem isn’t just about Don—

Though Don certainly could be better—

He could be the one to step up

And address the problems of the squeaky wheel.

But this is also a problem with the bus company.

Leave a squeaky wheel too long,

And it just might come off.

 

And if one wheel falls off the bus,

You had best be ready for the oncoming accident.

——

 

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THE FORK

The drive home from work takes a short while. Some twenty minutes. It’s nothing special—I certainly wouldn’t write home about it. For the past few weeks, there has been a construction crew on one corner, where the road forks into east and west. I had never seen the construction crew working—I assumed they worked late at night, after I had left, or early in the morning, before I arrived. But today, things were different. As I was coming along the curve of the road that leads up to the fork, a construction worker with a large, abrasive red stop sign jumped out in front of oncoming traffic. The blue Toyota Prius that was three cars in front of me, slammed on their breaks, which caused the following cars ahead of me to do the same. I, like the cars in the lane parallel to us, did the same, and we came to a stop about fifty feet from the fork.

The construction worker was dressed in the abhorrent orange vest that they wear for their safety, with a pair of intimidating shades. It would not have appeared quite so bad if he had not had such a smug grin on his face—like he had done this solely to ruin the waning hours of our day. What was worse, is that there was a tractor with a towing cable tied to it backing up from between the fork—in that space where, if you were to drive full speed through, you would eventually hit a tree. Traffic was dead stopped, and the lanes were backing up. Still, this guy stood there with a grin on his face.

Now, I could not fault him—I mean, it is his job and he probably knows it better than I do. But the tractor was in the left lane—the one to head west. I was in the right lane, which heads east. There was a full five feet between the tractor and the lane—plenty of space to fit by. In fact he should have only stopped the left lane. I felt a twinge of anger inside me. The roar of horns behind us did nothing to calm me down, either. The incessant BEEP-BEEP BEEEEEEEEP of the horns was infuriating. I was looking around—behind me, ahead, to the sides—looking for a way out. And finding none.

Apparently, I was not alone in this feeling. In a surprising burst of speed, the blue Prius shot forward. The construction worker looked on in horror as the little machine whizzed by him. It was like the floodgates of a dam had been flung open, and our whole lane surged forward with waves of anger. But it didn’t stop there. We rounded the corner going faster—faster around the corner than we had ever gone before. Sixty, seventy, eighty miles per hour! We shot through the red light like a bullet (the blue Prius had not been quite so lucky. Its entry was met with a crater into a white Honda Civic. But small losses are needed for revolution. We sped and sped and sped like a herd of beasts through the road, until finally I came to my turn off point. I realized that I could not make my turn, and terror took hold. I was no longer the pack of noble animals coursing against the flood of a cruel system. I had become the wolf—the cruel, malicious hunter who decimated everything in my path.

——

 

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GOLDEN STRUGGLES

It’s hard to believe

Life is hard for everyone.

Even Donald Trump.

 

Although Donald Trump

Might not have it quite as hard

As a Harlemite.

 

Better dipped in gold

Than underneath a bootstrap,

Or invisible.

 

In the beating sun

Better to carry the whip

Than pick the cotton

 

That life’s more easy;

Even if they both get burned.

Only one gets scars.

 

But that’s hard to see

From a penthouse apartment

In your own hotel.

——

 

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THE INVADER

Take your broken heart

Make it into art;

Make your mind smart

Before things fall apart.

 

Lest you become an Okonkwo.

The greatest man of his tribe,

Yet he was brought low

Through the faults in his pride.

 

I don’t know what it is

That makes good people,

And I don’t know how his

Would follow a man so evil.

 

Except for that the invader

Is rarely held to his word.

He will claim to be the savior

Of an unsuspecting herd.

 

He’ll take them

And break them,

And batter and shake them,

 

He’ll blame them

And shame them,

And in the end enslave them

 

Until they are bruised

And broken

 

But at least he got his profit

At least he got a dollar off it,

At least he’s willing to speak his mind,

At least he isn’t expected to be kind.

 

And a hush falls over the crowd,

Now he has his chance.

He raises his hands and screams “Unite!”

And, defeated, they bow to his plans.

——

 

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CAMOUFLAGE

I implore you to ask yourself, Uncle,

What it means to be an American.

Is it to stand in the face of trouble,

And tell the rest of the world “I can.”

Is it to protect the poor and helpless

Against the blades of all the enemies?

Or is it to protect corporate interests,

And sell the rich their path to amnesty?

If we are to be one voice, united,

Why do you exile those you oppose?

Isn’t that making us more divided?

Why is it good people that you depose?

If we are free, Sam, why is it that you

Hide behind that suit of red, white, and blue?

ROSE

“Hello Rose!” a voice called out to me, shocking me out of my mind and back into the train. I was on the Metrolink, on my way home from work in Los Angeles. I would take this train to Baldwin Park, then drive a few blocks away to my house. Turning to the man that had called out to me, I noticed it was Michael, my good friend that I had met at a coffee parlor a few years back.

“Hey Mike. How’s it going?”

“Oh ya know, it’s going. What’d you do today at the office?”

“Mike, I told you, it’s not an office, it’s more of a lab.”

“Fine,” Michael raised his hands, admitting defeat, “What did you do at the lab today?” He put an extra emphasis on “lab,” as if to tease me. I took a deep breath.

“Well, we just finished the big Biomimicry project, and it should be ready for release in the next couple months. Everything at this point is up to marketing now.”

“Really?” Michael always was so excited by my engineering projects. It made me smile, “So do you think it came out alright?”

“It could have gone better. I don’t like that we couldn’t figure out a way to account for pregnancy well, but we have future iterations to fix that in. What I’m really excited for is my side project.” I looked off into the distance, past the woman struggling to keep her child still, at the sunset. The clouds were this beautiful hue of orange-red from the sun’s light on them. It was so peaceful.

“What project is that? This is the first I’ve heard of this.” Michael looked at me with curiosity, then smiled deviously, “is it a love machine? You can’t just compute someone into falling in love with you.” He laughed and I slapped his arm playfully.

“No stupid, I’ve been working on this thing that will help change the world,” Michael’s face settled on an expression somewhere between happy and tired. I leaned in toward him and lowered my voice to a whisper, “I’ve been working on a time machine. Well, it’s really more of a time displacement machine, but it works like you would imagine a time machine to work.”

“And you are doing this how…?” Michael got very serious as his voice trailed off. I blushed in embarrassment.

“Well the science still has a bit of a way to go before I can safely change when I am living, but I think I am close to breaking through. I’ve got all the math finished. It’s a long story that you aren’t going to understand if I go in depth.”

“Try me.” Michael boasted. I looked at him sarcastically.

“Ok, so the quantum mechanical theory is that you take the change in oxygen density to create a time zone, and then use that baseline to create and track the oxygen of other time periods, lock on to one, and then-“ Michael cut me off.

“Ok I was lost after quantum. But this is my stop, I’ll see you later.” He grabbed his bag, and stepped down the stairs and out of sight. I sat in silence for the remaining 15 minutes of my ride, before eventually reached my stop: 3825 Downing Avenue. I got off the train, walked straight to my Civic, and drove home. What I hadn’t gotten to tell Michael about was that tonight was the first dry run for time travel. Or that I had been working on this project at home. Or that I was going to be going to be aiming straight for George Washington’s timeline to get to know our first president. With all the orange-faced re-election talk, I thought it might be valuable to check in with one of our premier leaders in history.

I pulled into my driveway, hopped out of the car, and climbed the stairs to my front door. The old, wooden door creaked as I stepped into my little house, as it always did. I walked over to my fridge, poured a glass of milk, downed it, then poured a second glass for while I worked. I carried the glass with me over to the makeshift workshop I had put together. All in all, the machine wasn’t actually that big. In fact, once I realized how simple it was to move through time, I refined my original design so that the main device would fit on a table. I took another sip of milk, then set the glass on a well-worn coaster, and examined at the device.

It was about the size of a backpack, with silver and blue panels on the exterior to cover the grotesque mess of wires and lights on the inside, as well as a big red button. Everything was all in place. I turned it on, and a low whir started emanating from the middle, and I could feel the table vibrating with it as I set the machine down. It lit up like a snowflake reflecting in the sun, which was beautiful. To the left of the main machine was the most important part of the device—the anchor. I had designed it as a bracelet that was fashionable and subtle at the same time. It, like the machine itself, was blue and silver, except it was a bracelet, with stones that looked quite a bit like sapphires. I slipped it onto my left wrist, the reached over to the machine itself and adjusted the date to April 15th, 1757. I figured I should talk to Mr. Washington before all hell broke loose in the colonies. Then, I punched in “MOUNT VERNON” to the keypad on the device.

I realized my hands were shaking with excitement, and I took a deep breath. It was going to be ok. Sure, if my calculations were off I could go spiraling back to who knows what year, but at least I had set up a fail safe to pull me back after 7 days. My hand hovered over the big red button, which seemed almost ominous. I guess it was also possible that because of how I was dressed I might be thought of as a whore, or worse. I mean at least I’m wearing jeans, right? Or maybe I hadn’t calibrated the machine right, and I would end up 6 feet underground…no. I was definitely right. I had over compensated. If anything, I would end up a few feet off the ground. I took one more deep breath, closed my eyes, and hit the button.

Suddenly, my who body was twisting and turning. It felt like I was being squeezed into a tiny box and pulled apart from each limb at the same time. My breath left me in a hurry, like someone had punched me dead in the stomach, and I thought for a second I would pass out. Then, suddenly, I opened my eyes and I was out in a field, in broad daylight.

 

RED SUNRISE – POST ELECTION THOUGHTS

Hello everyone,

 

So I am a pretty far left-wing person, and I’m here to digress about my perspective of this election. It’s currently 10:56 PM in California on Tuesday of the election, and I’ve seen a lot of things happen today. I got a text of disbelief from my family when Trump was leading early on in the election process today. Then I saw all my friend and family joking about how he could never win. I, myself, could hardly believe it, but in the pit of my stomach I could feel that something was wrong. Then the day went on, and I, along with many others, turned in my ballot to vote. Now, I’m in California, so it really doesn’t matter that I voted, mathematically, because California is a strong blue state. Yet I voted none-the-less, because it it my belief that all people should take advantage of the choices they are given. As the night wore on, it became clearer and clearer that Trump was winning this election.

The first major tip off for me was that he was ahead in all the swing states. He won Ohio, which is a corner stone state for elections. And things were still not really setting in for people on my Facebook feed. Then Florida came down to the wire and Trump won. Everyone of my generation has feelings about votes in Florida that come down to the wire, because when Bush won Florida by a supreme court ruling, it was talked about by everyone’s mom and dad pretty much until Obama was elected. This seemed to be when everyone woke up to reality. And suddenly all my friends, all these well intentioned Democrats, started to panic. How could Trump be winning? How? He called Mexican immigrants rapists! He was backed by the KKK! He bragged about sexually assaulting women! He said we should persecute Muslims!

So then how did he win? It seems so obvious to me that he is not an acceptable candidate for our country, but 49+ million people voted for him. That’s a literal fuck ton of people. It’s not just racism. It’s not just anti-Hilary. People believe this guy will actually change the way America works. At its core, they believe what he has said to be true. In at least some of their eyes, all these things he said is true. Now, I dislike Trump, but he is a powerful speaker. He uses concise, simple language that is direct and to the point. You know that idea that some guy is a ladies man because he is self-confident? That’s what Trump expresses to people. He also uses my favorite rhetorical device, hyperbole. “Make America Great Again,” is a slogan that feels hyperbolic. But hyperbole incites people. It hits people in their emotional areas. It’s an appeal to pathos, but it appears as a logos argument, which makes it really hard to argue with.

Which is what the election became about. It became about who had the more important issue. And the reality is that Trump crafted more important issues. They might not be really important in the scope of the world, but he made them seem more important—and at what point does “seems” and “reality” not simply become the same thing? I’ve talked about this before. If you say something is true for long enough, it becomes true, because truth is relative to what humans perceive. Hillary became the enemy to Red America. Less people trusted her than Trump, despite numerous studies showing that he lied on a more consistent basis than any other candidate in the entire election cycle. And the problem is that the DNC let it happen. They did not handle Bernie Sanders well, which divided the party and made “party unification” something that felt begrudging. “Fine, I’m with her, I guess” was a real bumper sticker, to further illustrate my point.

Trump thrives on hyperbole. He made a TV show emphasizing the phrase “You’re Fired.” If you have ever played a game competitively, you know that once you begin playing your opponents game, you have already lost. If you are an aggressive team, you have to stay aggressive, or you will lose because you are in an uncharted territory. You may think Trump is an idiot, but he’s clearly grabbed American democracy by the…throat. Now, I’m all for country unity, but country unity requires the unity of all people. Which I’m not sure a Trump candidacy can ever do.

Some of my close friends are terrified. The LGBTQA friends I know are horrified by Mike Pence, and rightfully so. The guy OK’d electroshock therapy to “cure gays.” My immigrant friends are afraid—even the ones that are here legally, because they know that a mob mentality can sweep away people who have done nothing wrong. It only takes a spark to catch fire, but that spark can burn for hours on end. Don’t believe me? Move to California for a summer and see how fires start. Or look at how some people are speaking to and about minorities now, and see that in many peoples eyes, People of Color are still lesser beings.

“Who could have seen this coming?” Well, I did. It was pretty clear from the primaries that he was going to win. He knocked his opponent’s off balance. He sowed the seeds in rural voters minds that politics were failing and that they had been rigged, then used his ethos as a “successful” businessman to get them fired up enough to come out and vote. Rural voters were up from 19% in 2012 to 26(ish)% this election. This is something that the Hilary campaign did not do. I’m not saying Hilary didn’t run a good campaign—by normal standards, she ran a very good campaign. She was composed, she was rhetorical, she was educated, she was far more prepared than any candidate we’ve seen in recent debates aside from perhaps her primary opponent, and she was extremely experienced. The problem was, that wasn’t what this campaign was about.

I brought up hyperbole, and negativity was another key aspect of this campaign. This should have been obvious, given how vile the 2012 campaign got due to Citizens United. What, did we think things were suddenly going to be nice? No. Trump is a direct result of Citizens United. He embodies negativity, and even embraces it. He took a video tape of him bragging about sexually assaulting a woman, embraced that he did it, and moved passed it. WE ARE STILL TALKING ABOUT HILARY’S DAMN EMAILS. Trump didn’t let something phase him, or act as a thorn in his side—even if it meant saying something more obscene the next week to get away from it. Hilary…kinda did. And maybe it was out of her control. People kept bringing it up, and maybe this wouldn’t have happened to a man and our country is still sexist. Excuses. True maybe. But they are excuses.

The fact of the matter is that those issues needed to be put to rest. Instead of “I accept responsibility for X and in the future” it should have been “Yeah, I made a mistake, but you know what? Everyone makes this mistake. It’s so common.” And then listed all the other embassy attacks that were mishandled and private email servers that had been used. Maybe even, I don’t know, bring up her opponents use of hidden information? If the election is about hyperbole, negativity, and strength, then don’t let it be Trump’s court. Make it your court.

I digress. I am worried for my friends. Tensions are high. That happens when things are taken out of proportion, which happens a lot around election year. The stock market was up earlier today, and now it is falling. Women feel threatened. Non-white Americans feel threatened. Non-Christians feel threatened. Democrats feel threatened. Journalists feel threatened. Our allies feel threatened. Countries that are not are allies feel happy because America is in turmoil, but they know they are threatened in the back of their heads too.

Now, I’m sure I could be called a “Libitard,” for buying into the facts that have been presented to me, but I don’t think that’s true. I’ve long come to terms with “Liberal Hypocrisy” as a mainstay of thought. The idea that a liberal has all answers to problems so that they can get a long. A so-called “higher path” to the bigoted, narrow minded Republicans. But, in the words of Lewis Black, “if liberals are so good at winning, why do they lose?” I’ll tell you why. Because from up on that seat, that high horse, it becomes harder to get down and vote. “We’ve got this in the bag.” “There’s no way we can lose.” “They’re handing us this election by putting Trump against Clinton.” Really? 2/3rds of America doesn’t vote. What if half of one of that third comes out and votes? That’s what happened for Republicans. But it’s more than that. It’s taking our politics seriously. It’s standing up and saying “I’m going to watch the news even though I hate the news because my life will be changed by this election.” And change it shall. Many people are talking about moving out of the country. Canada’s citizenship website crashed. Maybe the reality is that we’ve been spread too thin. There’s no way the needs of Iowa match the needs of California, Texas, New York, and Utah.

And I get it, State’s have rights to. I live in California. I know that my life is probably going to be the least impacted out of the whole country by this election—save nuclear war. But as a citizen of this country I am distraught. Because Donald Trump has been divisive in his rhetoric. Sure, he united a party that was on the verge of falling apart, but uniting half the country and alienating the other half is worse than alienating a quarter of the country. Think about how much you hate your opposing party’s candidate. Think how much you hate that one aunt that is voting in opposition with you. Think about how much you were surprised your friend was voting for the enemy team, and how much you loathe them now. It’s almost brother versus brother. It makes my stomach hurt because all these things we stand for—and I don’t even know which “we” I am referring to—but the things that we stand for have been compromised. I was taught that bullying was a weak man’s trade. I was taught that being braggadocios is proof of an excess of pride. I am not Christian, but I was taught that humility should supersede the rest of life. I was taught that all men are created equal. I was taught that if you worked hard, things would get better. Tonight, I have been taught that you can short cut your way to success by taking advantage of people. And I’m not sure what that means for the rest of the world. But it’s 12:08 AM now, and here we are.

I wish I could end on a positive note. That the sun will rise in the morning. But if the sun rises red with anger, and hate, is that really a sun we can all live happily under?

 

Edit:

Here’s a post-post election thought that I figured I should add in. I sat down to add this at 12:03 PM on the day after the election. Ironically, “Good Morning” by Kanye West was the first song on by Pandora. As shaken as I still am by the decision America made last night, life does go on. Hate will get us one of two places. One, further divided. Riots are starting, which I am not surprised about. I am worried they will escalate to Civil War. We haven’t experienced a Civil War with nuclear weapons, and I doubt we want to. The other option I see hate bringing us is the same cyclical nonsense that occurred when Obama was first put in office. Remember that? Remember the Tea Party people? And while the phrase “not my president” has continued to this day, I would hope that we could be the better people, and put that aside. There is only so much space in prisons. Do not sit down if hatred sets in, but do no be the person to insight violence. Protect each other. Do not let this so-called “white lash” become the split in our country that causes us to sink under.

GO VOTE

Hello everyone,

 

Alright, I’ve decided to take a bit of time today to impress upon my growing readership the importance of voting (like no doubt every other website is doing right now as well). People always talk about how you should go vote, and that is super important that you go vote. Even if you are voting between a Giant Douche and a Turd Sandwich. I don’t see voting quite the same way as I think most people do, especially not the people who say that “it is your duty to go vote as a citizen.”

Voting is a decision. And, like everything else in this life, it starts with the choice of yes or no. Do you want to get off the computer to go vote or not? Well, I’ll start with reasons for not. First, neither candidate appeals to you in any remote way. In all honesty, I have no clue how this could happen, but for arguments sake lets roll with it. Lets say that you think that the only answer to all of our problems exists in putting the whole world into a black hole in space. I don’t think any candidate wants to solve problems that way, so that’s an example of this (I suppose). Hungry? Black hole it. Annoyed with the neighbors? Black hole them. It doesn’t make much sense does it. But, in this instance voting is irrelevant because you will not get any aspect of life that you want out of the choices.

The next reason not to vote is that a person doesn’t have time to. And I don’t mean “I don’t have time to” people. I mean “I work from 4 am to 11 pm with a 30 minute lunch break” people. That’s a pretty feasible excuse, and it’s a problem with society, but it’s a reality. The last reason I can see is that you simply don’t want to participate in the world as we know it. I think of monks in off the grid areas when I think of this, but the people who are completely out of touch and unaffected by the rest of the world, and do not care how the world outside of their space deals with everything, and knows their space will not be enclosed upon in their lifetimes. To be honest, those are all the reasons I can see to not vote, but again, it is your choice to vote. Let’s get into the reason why.

The reason is simple. The person elected will change how the country works and, and this is the important part, that will impact your life. “But these candidates both suck” is an excuse I hear often. So? Doesn’t one suck more than the other? Life doesn’t always give good options. Sometimes it’s jail or death. Sometimes its college ruled paper or wide ruled paper. Sometimes it’s a 10 hour shift or a 12 hour shift. Neither choice is good, or even exciting, in some points in life. But they will have an impact on you. They might start a world war. Or not start one when it needs to be started. This is the simple reality that we live in. And it’s easy to find something to agree with a candidate on. One person want’s to limit the people entering the country, one person wants to expand the minimum wage. Neither of those matter to the average person? I doubt it.

One of the things that I can understand that make voting hard is a hierarchy of values. Maybe you think that Donald Trump’s border security pitch is ideal, but you think that Hilary Clinton’s position on wages is also ideal. How do you choose? Well, which is more important? This is called a hierarchy of values. And they can be the tough choices, but they are choices that you need to make in life—life doesn’t make choosing easy every time. But if you do not choose, then things end up worse for you when the ideal you eventually decided was secondary, but could not decide when voting was happening, wins. Maybe you feel like your vote doesn’t matter. It does. Because while one drop of water does not make an ocean, without any rainfall the sea would be empty. And every drop, from the first to the trillionth, adds depth to its waters. So please. Go vote.