Ellie Chun

I am in a severe moral quandary, people.

Our state of Illinois enjoys that time-honored political tradition of the primary system, and as such, when you go to vote in primary elections, there's that awkwardly undemocratic moment of having to declare your political party affiliation before several strangers serving as election judges, so that you can be provided with the appropriate ballot.

Whether you're a centrist like myself or not, if you want to vote in the primary, you've got to pick a party.

I took the Republican ballot.

Before I'm made a pariah by my fellow artists, let me explain my rationale: I'm sort of a libertarian, basically meaning I like fiscal conservatism and social liberalism. While this may sound like a load of hooey, it's really just me saying I'm an issue voter. Like most reasonable people in this country.

So, when I walked into my Chicago voting precinct, I had a certain point of view in mind. Namely, this city is Democratic by a massive majority. I thought that those folks can take care of themselves, they know what they want. I said to myself, "Hey, I can help make sure some crazy Focus On The Family Republican doesn't beat a Log Cabin Republican."

And, despite the shocked reactions from the Democrat election judges and the obvious surprise from the otherwise bored Republican judge that she actually had something to do, I took my ballot and meandered over to the booth, looked over the scant number of Republican nominees (many positions had no candidates at all) and punched the holes that seemed appropriate.

Flash forward to present day. I have a big envelope waiting in my mailbox from the Chicago Board of Elections. I open it. Within is a manila application of some kind, and this letter:

Um...what?

So...I would be representing the Republican party as a judge at my voting precinct. But I'm not a Republican. I'm not a Democrat either. But, I do believe in democracy and fairness and judging and all that stuff. So...I should do this?

...and I'm a poor actor. I also lease apartments as my day job. The apartment leasing market: not so hot the first week of November. Could use a little extra scratch...

But this is civic DUTY we're talking about here, what does money have to do with it?! This is akin to jury duty, right? I should do this. Moderate the parties. Checks and balances. I'm not a Republican, but I'm an actor right? I can look out for their interests for a day.

I mean, the way he puts it in the letter, it's sort of sad, right? These poor, inner-city Republicans with a shortage of judges. I should make sure they're taken care of.

...or should I?

Will people I know see me there wearing my Republican Election Judge badge? What if some big-shot theatre person walks in there and sees that and never hires me again? I mean, he probably wouldn't have hired me anyway, but he would actually have a reason not to!

I've never been presented with a situation like this, nor felt the need to place so many thought ellipses! I don't know how I should proceed with it. If I should even proceed at all. I'll probably let it sit on my coffee table. Or I could even be sabotaging the possibility by writing about it. Who knows. I certainly don't.

My girlfriend is a pretty left leaning person so you can imagine where her loyalties lie.

But my father would be so proud...he's a member of the NRA now...he listens to Rush Limbaugh....

Wait a damn minute. That's who I'd be representing? Dittoheads' interests? Oh HELL no, nevermind all that then. No way I'm gonna sit there as a figurehead for xenophobic, homophobic, bigoted jerks...

But if I don't, then I'll represent no one. And nothing.

Is it better to represent something with reprehensible elements than nothing at all? Let's be honest, there are some bad folks on the far left who are trying to ruin this place for us as well. Political correctness, litigious ACLU garbage, and nativity scene protests certainly move us in the wrong direction too.

I'm making this far too complicated, I think. I'm not that morally defined a person, really. I've never been terribly religious. I play devil's advocate more than I play the devil. What's the big deal? Such a simple decision, really:

Do I want $170 or don't I?

Hrm.

I DO.

...but I could probably live without it.

We'll see. I'm sort of exhausted running myself around something that really just boils down to whether I feel like doing it.

I'll put this on the shelf for now. Save the ethical wrangling for something that really counts.

Aria "Happy" Nao

Once again, not very inventive on the titles lately.

So, I had a strange duo of occurrences last week in the same day, both calling my character into question and both via the ubiquitous and life-changing facebook:

A) The facebook has an application one can add called the "Honesty Box," which I added onto my profile for amusement purposes. It is what it sounds like: a person may place a message into your "Honesty Box" anonymously, thus freeing them of inhibitions or consequences associated with telling you things in person. The user has only a gender and a list of people who use the "Honesty Box" to go on to figure out who may have placed a given message. The user may also prompt a specific question to be honest about, such as "What do you think of my blog?" (to which I was cryptically responded "noticeably ostentatious.") As of now, it is set to the default "What do you honestly think of me?"

So, this week I received a note from a female stating the following, verbatim:

"You don't seem like a very happy person."

Um...

So, I responded (which the "Honesty Box" allows you to do to the anonymous party):

"Well, I just got out of a relationship. Little on the lonely side. Other than that, things are looking up lately. Thanks for your concern."

It's not the comment that I mind so much, it's:

1) That I'm ostensibly unhappy

2) The fact that such an innocent comment, that I'm completely able to deal with and have dialogue about, is not able to be delivered personally.

So, I'm grumpy and unapproachable. No wonder you can't say it to my face.

Which brings me to:

B) A friend wrote this note on my facebook wall the very same day:

"I was minding my own business today when all of the sudden I heard 'Yeah, I don't really care for Mike P*****.' I laughed a little inside and then I felt sorry for you. Just thought you should know..."

Um...

This friend is the type of friend who would say that sort of thing for a laugh, so I sloughed it off at first. But after I coupled it with the previous "Honesty Box" fiasco, I had to call her.

I was told that this, indeed, had happened. She was sitting in the hall at my old alma mater reading, when within a room she heard the aforementioned quote. It was a male speaking to another male, and the other male quickly changed the subject.

How I wish he hadn't...perhaps the perpetrator would have revealed himself. So, not only am I:

1) Grumpy

2) Unapproachable

BUT:

3) DISLIKED.

And, at my old school no less. Where, mind you, I was once the KOT. Once...long ago...a whole year and a half ago...

I think I've made a concerted effort over the years to be funny, jovial, adept at conversation, with the ultimate goal of being WELL-liked. But now it seems that I have achieved mostly the opposites of those goals (if my female dealings of late are any example). See the characteristics above for reference.

Though...

There is something amusing about being disliked. The very idea that if my name came up, at least one person would immediately reply "I don't really care for him," is pleasurable in an inverse sort of way. There's really no in-between there. To that person, I am how I would describe an unsavory vegetable: "I don't much care for peas."

In the same way, "You don't seem like a very happy person" must have been conceived through a series of meetings with me. I must have been a real asshole. And everyone knows that someone who treats people in an asshole-ish manner is really working something out about themselves that they don't like, so I must be unhappy.

It's all very...flattering really.

These are seemingly simple statements about me, but there's a littany of judgment passage that goes into them. In essence, I've been thought over in a very detailed way to come to these conclusions. I'm starting to think that maybe it's better than saying "Oh, Mike? Yeah, he's cool," or my absolute least favorite: "He's nice."

"Nice" people don't do anything for anybody save the opportunity for practicing small-talk...

...to use on other "nice" people.

So goddammit, I'm honestly pleased that I'm still occupying a place in a few people's minds. And no, I'm not reveling in being berated. It hurts a little when people clue you into your faults. Especially if you don't know who they are.

But it's about damn time I'm the asshole. I'm the "nice" guy to most people already.

Preach on, facebook. Identity be damned.

(P.S. Peep my madd outlining 5k1llz!!!)