Three times. That’s the number of times I threw up yesterday morning. I wouldn’t mention it, except that it corresponds to the number of times people have, in the last week, asked me to qualify for the October primary against a certain state representative. The money’s there, the people are there, but I’m not.
Aparently, since I’m a “non-traditional college student,” they think I have all this free time and resources to devote to kicking someone out of an office I really have no interest in holding. It’s understandable, really. I’m politically active, I’m seen frequently around public, and I’m always involved in activist causes. That makes me a prime target for certain undesirable jobs like helping friends move, cleaning out gutters on old ladies’ houses, and running for state representative.
But I decided against it. I’m going to go to Europe for a summer instead.
Maybe that was what my body was trying to tell me, while I was confined to the Ceramic Palace praying to the Porceline Gods. “Don’t run for office!”