So, FaceBook. Of course that’s the first thing I would check. As we all know, I have issues with my friends. And yesterday, I randomly noticed I had 257 — of which I probably spoke to only 4 within the last week. But when I checked my FaceBook friends list again today, which, no matter what these blogs may convey, I seriously don’t check often considering I have a life, it show me having 258 friends.

I didn’t accept any friend requests within the past few days!

*creepy music interlude*

Unfortunately, I just now realized someone could have simply reactivated their account and theoretically gained me as a friend again. Shucks. So onto plan B. I had something else I wanted to blog about; pictures.

I don’t think “face book profile” has an exact definition but for the sake of this entry I’ll say it’s supposed to be a person’s life on a web page. Kind of incredulous when you think of it but I’m sure we all have friends who post everything within that one page. Like, some people post a description about themselves, favourite movies and the like, employment status, relationship status, frequent annoying status updates, pictures of weddings, a wall where other people can publicly comment about the person and their life… kind of perfect the perfect tool for a curious journalist.

But the thing is, that’s not really their life. I wish I had time to find the quote online but I remember Angela from My So-Called Life saying in yearbook class how the yearbook isn’t really an accurate representation of the year. It’s what we want to remember it was. Because if it was truly accurate, it would be a really depressing book. (Someone remind to find out who the screenwriter was for that episode.”

So I got to thinking about my FaceBook profile. I’m quite pleased with how it looks. Basically all my ‘friends’ can see is my schooling info, that I’m Interested In: Women, a few groups I joined, my profile picture, and that I have 257 — wait, what!? I lost another friend within the ten minutes it’s taking me to write this!? To quote one of my favourite quick-witted TV show characters, son of a…

Back to what I was writing. I like to post really interesting profile pictures. I find it cool and, actually, it’s usually a fairly decent representation of who I am, if I do say so myself. I’m eclectic, I’m bored. But then I think of the things I don’t post.

If there was a particularly unflattering shot of myself would I post it? Like, one where my chin is angling downward so that I have a double-chin or something. Or maybe just a shot of me where I was midway through sentence so that my face looks odd odder than usual? Or maybe those occasional days where I have zit somewhere on my forehead?

Luckily my face has been pretty good to me thus far and hasn’t broken out much — I’ll get pimple every now and then like the rest of the world. Although, I know of a few people with acne problems who use some skilled Photoshoppery to remove it from all their images.

It’s all instinct, I guess. If a relative just died, you’re crying and you feel horrible, would you get someone to take a picture of you in that state? In a way, I think I will someday. I haven’t cried in years but when I inevitably do again, I think it would be interesting to do some self-photography. With a tripod even, to really capture what’s really happening. This is partly because I think images of people crying can look really beautiful.

But, actually, is that the real me? I don’t routinely cry. It’s a very small aspect of me that happens when it happens. I use the bathroom a lot, I hope that never ends up online.

That said, even if that is the real me — at least in that point of time — do I want others to see that? I don’t exactly share a large part of my life online.

We are who we want people to think we are. At least on FaceBook.

In all honesty, I don’t analyze my friends list. I have like 260 259 friends the last time I checked, there’s no way I’d ever be able to keep track of that. However, I do remember one friend acceptance that I made. It was pre-university and some girl I didn’t know friend requested me.

I skimmed her profile and it turned out that she was going into my program. She seemed harmless so I accepted. (I don’t put anything up on FaceBook that I wouldn’t mind having plastered across the Internet anyway, so it was fine.)

Flash-forward a month or two to a few days ago. I don’t know how exactly it happened but I clicked her name somewhere. That’s the beauty of FaceBook; you can read a wall message, click here and there, and somehow end up on an event page for some random person’s birthday party. It wasn’t even planned, I just happened to click her name at some point.

So, yeah, turns out she deleted me. I came to this conclusion because, as creepy as the feature is, I viewed her complete list of friends. We have 15 mutual friends and she, herself, has over 300 friends, which means someone didn’t delete all her friends. And it’s highly doubtful that someone would log onto her account and specifically delete little, old me.

Also, she’s been inundating me with cut-eye, yo. She had been doing it for a while but I just thought she was weird until, of course, I found out she deleted me.

This should all be sad in some kind of way yet it’s quite typical. I have this tendency to make enemies with people without knowing it. For instance, a few months back I sat beside an old lady on the subway. I didn’t do or say anything to the woman but that still didn’t stop her from dumping her (luckily) room-temperature coffee on me before bolting through the closing subway doors.

In September, the girl and I once rode my entire subway ride together because she had some cousin to meet up with. We talked about music among other interests. She talked a lot but nevertheless seemed fine. We certainly didn’t exactly appear to be initiating any kind of Clark/Lex rivalry or anything.

(I really don’t have anything against this girl. I could care less, really. And I’m not saying that because I’m bitter. We never really talked; I didn’t lose much. It’s just something I find funny and unusual.)

On Thursday, I joked about the situation with a few other students in my Information and Visual Resources lecture. While I’m one of those “just say what’s on your mind and confront the situation, damn it”-type of peerson, who will probably end up bringing it up in a conversation with her one day to get to the point, make her feel awkward and amuse myself with her presumably lame excuse all at the same time, we decided it would be only fitting to do one thing: add her back.

She was the one who added me in the first place, before we ever even met. It’s aboot time I repay the favour. But this time I have a plan! I’ll add her and then eventually delete her. Is that not the most brilliant idea on the planet (if I go through with it)?

(There is, by-the-way, a procedure for handling declined cards as a cashier. As direct as it is, announcing the card has been “declined” to an entire store of impatient customers is quite embarrassing. As an occasional cashier, I’ve learned to simply say, “Oh, it didn’t go through for some reason… maybe you didn’t punch in your PIN number correctly.” Just sayin’.)

BMO, I enjoyed seeing the ambiguous “CARD LIMIT EXCEEDED, VISIT BRANCH” (or whatever it said) black text shoot across the yellow screen. It was a real hoot having to use my ‘only for emergencies/online payments’ prepaid credit card (I should probably get a real credit card now that I’m 18, shouldn’t I?) to pay for my $3-4 meal along with some most likely high transaction fee.

I was amused at how easy it was to juggle eating breakfast and dialling the 1-800 number on the back of my debit card as I scrambled, literally, across Yonge and Dundas to get to my Information and Visual Resources lecture. The operator delighted me ever so much as he told me that my card was disabled because of a recent purchase made at a rather dubious merchant. And I felt safe knowing that he wouldn’t be able to tell me where exactly my information was swiped from.

Finally, I had a ball finding a branch downtown, which I was told twice to visit, only for them to say all I need to do is change my PIN number at any old ATM machine. Thank you, and rest in peace old 1866 PIN number.

The evaluator I got was quite nice. In fact, at the end of the test I said, “You know, even if you failed me, I still would have told you you were great — much better than all the others I had.”

At one point in the test, as I drove east on the 401, he said I needed to change lanes to the left when it was safe and back again. There was some jerk another driver slightly behind me in the left and a truck slightly in front of me on the left as well. This went on for quite some time and I couldn’t pass/let them pass because, respectively, I’d fail if I sped and there were too many cars behind me.

So he said it was fine, that there was nothing I could do about it and that was that. What a nice man.

I was attempting to navigate the stupendously confusing Ministry of Transportation website today. So, as a nascent G-er, all this gives me is the ability to tow a boat and have point-something decimal of alcohol in my system? Woah, look at all the many doors that have just opened!

Oh, and since the majority of future readers of this entry are going to have found this post because they Googled “what do you have to do in the G Test”, and such, I’ll tell you.

It seems to all depend on which centre you go to. With my first and mighty awful experience at another location, I went on two highways. One had a speed limit of 80, the other, 100. The evaluator made me switch lanes at least twice on the highway, complete a three-point-turn, and parallel park.

At Downsview, I had to get onto the highway, switch lanes twice (as in: switched to the left, then to the right) going east and then west, emergency park, and do a three-point turn. That was basically it.

Basically, in essays, secondary sources are references to other people’s work that compliments reiterates part of your point. For example: apples. You are doing an essay on how apples are better than oranges. In your second paragraph, you argue that apples provide a better crunch than oranges. Let’s say you have a crunch-measuring device that proves this point. Well, my friend, you’re only halfway there.

You need to scour the planet to find any kind of literature/film/other source that agrees with you — and I mean any! There can be an article about ponies and how they make great club-goers if the right music is played, and if there’s even just one sentence that reads, “Oh yeah, and apples definitely have a nice crunch to them,” you’ve got your secondary resource.

Now, rinse and repeat but with the orange angle; a source saying oranges don’t have a great crunch value.

So even though you can prove whatever you are arguing with proof stemming from something you, yourself, found, you still have to look online or somewhere to find someone credible to restate this.

I know I’m still moderately fresh to this whole university thing, but is this really how the world works? Aren’t essays supposed to be able to support themselves individually. Secondary sources are really just there to say, “Hey, someone else thinks the same way, see!” When, really,  they’re not. They’re are agreeing with one aspect of your argument.

Like apples, again. The make-believe person who wrote, “Oh yeah, and apples definitely have a nice crunch to them,” isn’t comparing them to oranges to our knowledge. They are saying apples have a better crunch to them, period — which we can already prove with our magical device — thus making the quote rather pointless and essentially twisted. There is little value in adding it.

For my essay topic, I’m doing Shakespeare’s Sonnets (should that be capitalized?). The title escapes me at the moment but I’m comparing one sonnet to Sia’s “Moon” song, which my TA has serendipitously heard of before because, get this, she has the CD! There are some excellent similarities and enough dissimilarities for me to write a compare and contrast essay.

That said, where am I going to find “credible” sources to fill this silly secondary sources quota? I need terribly specific quotes. Unless, of course, I post them on here, quote myself, and hope my TA won’t check my sources/realize it’s me. Hmm, I’m rubbing my chin now… this blog is “credible”, no?

We all make outlines in some form or another anyway. For me, it’s called a rough draft. Whenever I tackle a story I get all my information and then quasi-stream of consciousness write. It’s the best method for me; I write an entire story without looking back once. Then, once finished, I edit.

I do this in-class during The Culture of News and my Information and Visual tutorials, so it’s annoying when the teachers critique my work halfway through my first stab at writing the story. I don’t write that badly — it’s just the unedited first piece of journalism that pops out.

I can’t imagine doing things any other way.

So here I am… thinking. On top of the essay outline there’s a certain book I have to read by tomorrow. It’s called Hamlet or something like that, you might of heard of it. While I was excited at the prospect of reading it at first, I haven’t even started! A mighty fine predicament, no?

I was talking to a friend on the subway earlier who suggested to just watch the movie, like she was going to do. I know, I know: the book is always better. But, well, actually, is it? The tutorial teacher for the class, Nature of the Narrative by-the-way, said she finds teaching Hamlet via the book to be rather faulty. It was initially written as a script to be performed by actors, was it not? It’s not like some other books that can really only be experienced through reading.

So, aside from the obvious potential of this simply being some kind of justification for laziness and poor time management, maybe, just maybe, I’m on to something.

But for all those not satisfied with waiting any longer for my beautiful face, I present you with my costume for Halloween this year. Clearly I dressed up as the Joker. I was aiming for a Dark Knight-esque joker initially but wound up going for a mixture of that with an Adam West era Joker.

I got pretty much all my clothing from Goodwill. The magenta-turned-somewhat-purple blazer was a steal at seven smackers. I did tye-dye a month or so ago and used some blue dye to try and make it darker and purpley (I know it’s not the way to go about doing something like this). I wound up with some rather excellent results.

The avocado vest thing and shirt were bought there as well for about $4-7 each. I friggin’ loved the colour of the vest thing but the shoulder areas were poofy — probably for some Shakespearean-type play — which made it slightly uncomfortable. I got the gloves at some (hopefully) pleather store downtown. I wore a t-shirt underneath this all, equating to four layers. But luckily I live in Toronto and it was quite cold that night. The tie was one I bought for my Grade 8 graduation.

I bought all my makeup supplies at Hamilton’s Theatrical Supply in Scarborough. I went there last year on a field trip with my Drama class. We learned how to make convincing makeup special effects. I have this one awesome picture of myself, which I think I’ll upload here if I find it, with this cool glass shard sticking out from my forehead with blood dripping… I think it was the best field trip ever.

I couldn’t get ahold of water-based makeup so I had to go with cream makeup. I also used nose and scar wax, liquid latex, spirit gum and remover, among other things I can’t remember as of this writing. I got some cheap, $1.99 green hair spray for, you guessed it, my hair. It works wonders. Although I didn’t really use it since I already knew the basics, this YouTube video is an excellent guide for learning how to look like the joker.

I’m so indecisive.  There’s a part of me that secretly likes this — not the crime, I mean. I would never condone violence of any kind. I just like the hysteria that follows. Sirens sirening (potential new word?), kids generalizing… what more could you ask for as a journalist?

That said, I have a fear of crowds — of people, really. I think in some some ways working in retail helped me a lot. It makes you realize people are awful things (I’m generalizing here, obviously). It’s like Yonge and Bloor subway station. I sometimes have to be in class by 9 a.m. and, holy, it’s like the worst possible thing that can happen to me.

People not getting back to me for a story? Awful, but I can handle. Spilt milk? Equally awful, but I know I can handle it. Yonge/Bloor? Not so much.

It gets to the point where I have leave ‘Subway Confessionals’, something I’ll most likely blog about tomorrow.

Like, I’m always stuck on the escalator behind the one person who doesn’t walk up it. I’m always the one lecturing people who wait for the subway right outside the doors — you always let the people in the subway car exit before trying to get on!

Anyway, I thought this had to do with streeters… oh yes, so today I had another streeter assignment. Basically we get a topic and interview people on the street (a la the term ’streeter’) about it. Fun, I know. Today, however, we were assignment a place to go to and come up with a story on our own.

I was assigned Union Station along with two others, who, as the mystic universe would have it, just so happened to be friends of mine (yay!). I chose to do my story was about Union Station and what people think about it in terms of cleanliness. I wrote about that because I noticed it’s quite dirty or “dutty” as one interviewee liked to put it. There’s this one wall between the Great Hall and the Concourse (pictured) which is quite awful-looking.

The three of us (and two other girls assigned a story on subway musicians who just wanted to tag along until the subway station) thought we ought to try going to Union via ‘PATH’. It’s an underground path lined with stores and fast food restaurants that spans from (at least) the Eaton Centre to Union. Bad idea! It’s the most complicated thing in the world that has practically no useful signs. Whoever designed that system owes me 20 minutes of wrong turns!

Okay, so there was one benefit of path-ing it out. I, well, my peer and I found this neat form of advertising on our way back. I love it when companies think outside the box.

My experience was quite enjoyable otherwise. I interviewed this one lady and we started talking about weirdos on the bus and then she holds up her book and goes, “Meanwhile I’m the one reading a book written by sister-in-law of Osama Bin Laden!”

I spoke to a barber named Boris(?) who wouldn’t give his last name and that really sucked considering he gave me a few good quotes. See, we need to get a full name, age, and occupation out of everyone we interview. We should also be getting phone numbers but I just dropped that. Still, people are paranoid and don’t give anything out. Even after I reassure them it won’t be published — it’s just for an assignment.

I tried wearing my Ryerson “Student Press” name tag on me throughout the day and, wow, that made a huge difference. Guess people like shiny things as much as I do, though maybe not Union Station.

But then I think of what made some of my favourite movies special. The Rocky Horror Picture Show, would it be as charming if it was incredibly successful during its initial go-around at theatres? We love it because it’s an underdog. It’s the movie that gets played at Bloor Cinema as a monthly ritual. There’s something special about it that makes us fans form an almost protective bond over it.

And with Repo! The Genetic Opera, looks like it’s going to suffer the same fate. It’s a movie that makes people squirm because, well, they’ve never really experienced anything like it. And that’s not just because of the gore. You know it’s kind of a stretch, actually, to say this movie is gory. There are really only a few parts here and there where someone loses a spine or an entire face. I mean, gore is highlighted but it’s definitely not a Saw film. It’s the ‘fun’ kind of dismemberment.

I’ve been waiting to watch Repo! for several seasons now since hearing it was going to be a rock-opera or, in a broader sense, a ‘horrical’ (horror + musical). I’ve said it once and I’ll say it again, I love it when genres are mixed (dramedies, etc.). Admittedly, I’ve never been to an actual opera-opera. I’ve only seen clips in movies and TV that I believe gives me some semblance of understanding. (To be honest, I don’t think I’ll ever end up seeing a standard opera considering my history with them.)

I finally got my chance to see it at the Toronto After Dark Film Festival last Saturday. Going slightly off topic for a sec, the Festival is quite the catch. It’s much easier to get tickets to as opposed to the Toronto International Film Festival (hurrah for PayPal!) and everything’s quite casual. Mainly horror movies are screened (of various styles, as you can see). There was another movie I think called Donkey Punch which looked interesting. Before the screenings they play short films from indie talent. Our audience got to see “The Flower”, which I found to be quite funny. You see it on YouTube here (might be crude and inappropriate for some).

Foremostly, Repo! concerns itself with Shilo and her doctor father Nathan Wallace, both well acted by Alexa Vega and David ‘oh-cool-it’s-Giles-from-Buffy‘ Head. She is badly ill and her overprotective father keeps her shielded from the outside by keeping her at home. While she yearns to be free, it’s not quite that Cinderella. He’s a nice guy who fears his daughter will perish without proper, around-the-clock treatment. In the meanwhile, Nathan is moonlighting as the repo man: a ‘legalized assassin’ who violently — dare I say comically? — collects organs from people who don’t cough up their payments on time.

You see, in the near future the world is plagued by organ failure. Why, exactly, I don’t think we ever find out. But within all that chaos a company called GeneCo emerges, offering organs for a premium. Of course none of this could happen without some kind of splendid, highly stylized Gothicism being adopted by society. I truly hope the future turns out like this — not the whole organ failure part, just the style.

The entire movie maintains this style and it really draws you into the world. Characters have their own unique costumes and the city has this wickedly grungy, cramped wasteland appearance that is utter eye-candy. Now overlay this with a dazzling and very meaningful rock-opera that isn’t afraid to takes risks. It’s an experience, really.

While the movie lived up to expectations, it did so in a slightly different way. It focused more on the father-daughter plot than the others. I was expecting a weaker central story with a greater emphasis on the smaller ones to fill the void. So there was an actual story there, which was great, but it left me wanting more screen time for the other characters.

The CEO of Geneco is a dying Rotti Largo. He bridges the central plot with a subplot dealing with deciding which one of his children is going to take over the company when dies. Pavi, Luigi, or Amber Sweet? They all seem to have their reasons for wanting the position except for Pavi who seems to be there only for comic relief.

And then there is Blind Mag. Oh, Sarah Brightman. Whoever did the makeup and costume design for her did an impeccable job. She looks gorgeous. And her hair: stunning. Not to mention her amazing voice, which I’m sure is self-explanatory. It was sad to see her only get a few scenes. There was one involving her, Shilo and her father which was just awesome. I guess her wonderous performance near the end made up for it.

Finally, there’s Graverobber. Terrance Zdunich has this way of making any perfectly heterosexual male question his sexuality. Seriously, that man was awesome. And, again, it was sad to see him get only a few scenes in the movie. I realize his character’s purpose was to be the makeshift host, but why couldn’t he have gotten just a few more scenes!?

I was seated near the very top section of the theatre. It was the balcony’s balcony of sorts. I’ve already mentioned how I dislike theatres because the image quality doesn’t wow me. Even Imax movies don’t reach the calibre of something you can find on a HDTV. I mean, theatres may have the big screen but that isn’t everything. Really, the only time I was ever blown away was when I saw Wall-E in a digital presentation at the theatre. I’m desperately crossing my fingers for a Blu-ray release.

The same can be said about sound. Again, this isn’t a Bloor Cinema thing, many theatres have clarity issues with their sound systems. So much so, I couldn’t understand many parts of the movie.That’s why I’m not going to write about any of the questionable plot developments and character decisions I didn’t graps. It’s a movie that needs to be seen twice, so I might revisit it in the future and redo this review.

I guess that’s why I’ll never make it anything past a movie reviewer on a blog I regulate myself. I need to be able to pause, rewind and comprehend the movie for what it really is.

I was worried going into the movie that there wouldn’t be many memorable songs for me to hum multiples times after watching it. I was wrong for the most part.

“At The Opera Tonight” is fantastic and has gotten stuck in my head a couple of times. It combines every character into one tight, climax-anticipating song. I only wish it, as a song and scene, could have lasted longer. It seems to important to only be two minutes and 11 seconds in length.

“Chase The Morning” is lovely with what I think is Brightman’s haunting voice projecting in the back. She has fun with song and kind of plays with Shilo. It’s very conversational. Brightman plays the scene beautifully acting-wise and oh-certainly physically. It’s a nice duet from the two ladies.

Vocally, I’m usually not a fan of musical numbers sung from actors. It’s a tricky predicament as it is: great singers or great actors? Still, Alexa Vega, who I actually wouldn’t doubt has some history wtih singing, really impressed me. In “Genetic Emancipation” she goes from child-like innocence to womanhood, both in the song and on screen. To put it simply, her “wooooahs” made me go, “woah”.

“Night Surgeon” is a song I liked more after seeing it on film than hearing it those 4 times previously (according to my iTunes). The sound of the females in the background singing, “Remember what you did to Marni,” fits in perfectly. I especially liked that scene/song because Nathan explodes emotionally with such elegance thanks to the actor. It’s a great scene.

“Zydrate Anatomy” is special to me because it’s what defined Repo! during all those months I waited for it. I can see why the entire scene was posted online (see above). It gives a decent representation of how the movie plays out, even if the two characters are barely in the final cut.

One song I’m definitely not a fan of is “Seventeen”. In fact, I deleted it off my iTunes after only a few listens. It just comes across a bit too ‘teen rebellion’ for me, ditto in the movie. I dunno, maybe I should listen to it again now that I’ve seen the movie.

There are a few other songs in the first and second acts between Shilo and Nathan that I have beef with. Like I’ve written three times now, I think too much time was given to the Shilo-Nathan storyline. Some of the earlier songs just aren’t all that memorable upon first viewing. Maybe that will change, maybe it won’t. Maybe I’m just bitter over Graverobber and Mag not getting enough scenes.

I think there was another song called “Legalized Assassin” that I really liked. Also, that said scene involving Nathan, Shilo, and Blind Mag in the foyer of their home was awesome.

If I had to describe what the movie sounds like, I’d say it’s a mixture of Evanescence and something else that I can’t quite remember at the moment. Whatever it is, it’s a lot of fun.

If you enjoyed the movie but still feel confused about it, like I did, I’d highly recommend listening to the songs individually. The movie is so strong an audio and visual experience, it’s hard to keep up with what the characters are saying singing. It clears up a few things.

At Ryerson the journalism kids are given ’student press’ passes and it tempted me to see if it could get me a better seat or something. Technically, I would be reviewing it… albeit not for a Ryerson publication since they only want Ryerson-based stuff (pfft!). So I had to wait in line with the other mere mortals. Most of them commented on how Paris Hilton is this and that (I’ll let your imagination fill it in), and I did too.

It begs the question of how she got the part. Was it truly talent? I have my opinions and so do you, but ultimately it’s about how she did in the movie. And she did fine. While she didn’t make the character quite ‘her own’, she played it with enough grace you’d expect out of the character.

At the end of the screening there was a Q&A portion. I was going to ask if there were plans for a sequel but time ran out. So I scoured the Internet and read somewhere there is a possibility for it to become a trilogy if it gets that coveted wide release and does well. A prequel or sequel would be a mighty fine predicament idea. That’s not to say the movie doesn’t feel like a standalone movie, I just find so much room to expand on certain characters (ahem, Blind Mag and Graverobber).

Repo! is an intense roller coaster ride of operatic adrenaline that does more than go up and down. It reminds me that people are still taking risks in filmmaking. It’s inevitable that comparisons are going to be made to Rocky Horror, which In many respects it is similar, but Repo! an entirely different movie that firmly carries its own weight. 3 little glass vials out of 4.

I was wondering on my way home how I was going to blog this important, inaugural occasion. Should I reveal my political affiliation? It’s a question I didn’t think I’d ever have to think twice about, but, as I consider myself a journalist more and more these days, it’s an iffy subject.

And then I remember I think of everyone as people first, professions second. Yes, I’m a journalist. Yes, I have political affiliation. And, of course, that will always remain separate while wearing my journalism hat. Just because I say I voted for such and such doesn’t mean it would be reflected in my work. I’m passionate about politics but more passionate about doing my job properly.

In fact, not revealing who I voted for falls under the ‘quasi-irony’ category when I relate voting with democracy, human rights, freedoms, and so on. That isn’t to say people who don’t reveal who they voted for are wrong in doing so, not at all.

I find it hard to have a political affiliation when one party leader I did want to become Canada’s next prime mister didn’t get my vote. This was because the candidate in my area (representing the same party) didn’t meet expectations. It’s heartbreaking.

The process itself was straightforward. I wasn’t registered to vote so I did it there. All I needed to do was show my drivers’ license and sign something. It took two minutes or so. I don’t know why people aren’t automatically registered, seems kind of silly to me not to.

The voting portion was amazingly simple. You get a small paper with four candidates’ names on it, X the circle beside the name you want to vote for, let the attendant rip off the top of the paper with the ballot number, and drop it in. The attendant who handled mine seemed kind of scared of me because he ripped the top off very delicately in front of me while it was still folded, making it clear he didn’t see my vote. I stared at him as he did it and found it funny for some reason. Then again, I’m not one of the surely many others out there who get all stingy about this stuff. Well, kind of.

I won’t reveal my political affiliation in this post. It just doesn’t seem right dedicating the last little bit of time I have left before precious sleep time to something like that (I have a “sore throat” apparently but I’m convinced it’s laryngitis again — I don’t trust the walk-in clinic I visited — and thus I must sleep it off). Still, I believe my political views are quite obvious to anyone who occasionally reads my entries.

Whom did you vote for?