He Will Be My President

I treated myself the other day. I donated money to Barack Obama's campaign.

I didn't donate because I hate George W. I didn't donate because I hate Republicans. And I certainly didn't donate to shock my mother. I donated because I believe in him. I believe in what he can do for me and my family. I believe in the future he can bring. And I believe that he is sincere.

Facebook, believe it or not, enabled me to participate to a degree I never thought I could. I became a supporter of Obama on Facebook, a sort of fan page, which enabled me to receive messages from his campaign. One day there was a message from his campaign telling me that I could send two super-delegates a Facebook message and let them know why they should cast their vote for him. I felt that I couldn't let that opportunity pass. One of them even wrote me back. I don't know who the delegates supported but just sending those simple messages made me feel so empowered.

Another message from Obama's campaign enabled me to sign up for invitations to nearby campaign stops. I doubt he'll stop in or around Albany but a girl can hope. After signing up, there was an option to donate. Before I knew it I put a piece of myself into the campaign of someone who inspires me. Sure it might pay for Starbucks for one staff member but it gave me a high I've never had before. And I want to feel it again.

A day later Mike and I were watching a BBC America newscast about campaign finances and how the vast majority of Obama's money is being donated from people under the age of 30 and in increments on average of $15 at a time. Obama had something like $327,434,277. That's a lot of people at $15 a pop. I don't know who they are but they can say he is their president. Just like I will say he is mine.