Living life is art. This theme should be apparent from my ramblings about staring at walls, going to concerts, and having epiphanies. But some moments in life arenâ€™t just moments, theyâ€™re events. When people ask me, as I sit crazily out of my mind as an old retired professor, what you were doing on November 6th, 2012 I will answer: holding my breath, and then Iâ€™ll proceed to pass out and die.
Let me preface this with the fact that Iâ€™m not one for American politics. Everything about it is problematic, semi-unchangeable, and over-hyped. I say this as I read critique on Foucault, drink heinous amounts of coffee, and listen to indie music my red skinny jeans thrive inâ€”take my word as you may. Strictly speaking, I donâ€™t actively support most of what Obama or Romney had to say but in a loose way I wholeheartedly supported Obama. I support the symbol he is for Americans. I support that he sees other humans as people with â€œrights,” people who deserve to be â€œequal.” I support him in that he actively supports people who donâ€™t have millions of dollars or even jobs.
Moments before his reÃ«lection (umlaut because I can) I looked at the top fifty pictures of the Obamas. My friend and I almost burst out into tears caused by their sheer cuteness and adorableness. When my President plays peek-a-boo with a child, my heart stops. I played a mental reel of all he did, all he promised, all he didnâ€™t do, all the things he said he wouldnâ€™t do, all the things that happened in these four years. And when the magnificent Rachel Maddow told us the great news, I realized this was an event I could celebrate.
Grabbing my belongings and hopping on a bus (yes, visiting the friend on north campus) I tried picking a song that could fit this moment (I pick 212 by Azealia Banks for all of my moments, so this time was no differentâ€¦), and I tried thinking beautiful thoughts to help commemorate it (feeling comfortable in not having to flee to Canada or protest everyday in the bitter cold)â€”all in all, I wanted to do clichÃ© things. And thus I headed to the Diag.
And then I left the Diag.
And then I headed back to the Diag after finding friends.
This event, this moment of post-reÃ«lection on the Diag was an event, it was art. I felt like I was a piece of metal, a stroke of a brush, a lone light bulb, and upside down urinal.
Let me explain.
No other space on campus has that many smiles. No other space on campus has that much racial â€œdiversityâ€. No other space on campus has that many people simultaneously and spontaneously dancing. No other space on campus has that much, I have to say it, â€œhopeâ€. No other space on campus has the feeling of that much accomplishment. Â No other space on campus has ever heard the words â€œObamaâ€ or â€œfour more yearsâ€ so much. No other space on campus was this space on campus.
When people ask what I did on November 6th, 2012 I wonâ€™t respond with: I went to class, I caught up with a friend, I waited in line for an hour, I drank coffee. I will say that I voted for Barack Obama who was then reÃ«lected that same evening and that I had never felt as comfortable as I did in the four years that preceded it. That feeling I had, that was art.