That's what I've been saying for the past five or so hours.
I'm like the Wu; I can't go to sleep.
I mean ... we have a BLACK PRESIDENT.
When it was announced, I cried in public and hugged whomever was there. And all I could think about was that pictorial of 43 white men who had held the highest office in our country and how, now, a brown face was gonna be on it. A brown dude with a brown wife and brown babies. Wow.
Honestly ... I still can't believe it.
This is some ole other. I was there, in Grant Park, with the people, witnessing it.
Anyone who grew up with parents from the South, aunts and uncles with stories that pale those in history books, grandparents who lived through the inhumanity of the early-twentieth century, who had parents who were slaves, have to be at least a little misty.
For real, for real, I really can't believe it.
I am eeeeee-motional.
Every time I look at my TV and see him, my black president, my ridiculously smart and poised black president, I tear up. Symbolism is some shit.
Let's enjoy our high. Soon, we'll be grimacing in discomfort as we take every mistake and criticism a little too personally. (Token atrack cynicism.)
I guess I can finally go to sleep now.