I am not a pickle!

I would like to take a moment to say that I am not a pickle.

Yeah, that's a strange announcement.  But it has a purpose.

Every time we play the name association game in GS, I'm always "Pickle Paula."  Without fail, I am "Pickle Paula."  Every.  Single.  Time.

In Junior year 1, I was a pickle.
After a two new kids joined the troop, I was a pickle.
At the beginning of Junior year 2, I was a pickle.
At the beginning of Senior year, I was a pickle.

Why?  Do I look green and bumpy?  I understand the people who think I'm sour, but am I really sour enough to be called a pickle?  Oh, never mind.  At this point, so many times have I been Pickle Paula that I guess it's just meant to be.

And dill pickles aren't that great.  But the sweet pickles are.  Just going to throw that out there.

So apparently the Girl Scouts are evil, now.

Really, guys?  Really?
Girl Scouts Under Scrutiny from Catholic Bishops

Behind the Ballot - 3

So, ironically, the day I pick to post flyers around campus to motivate people to vote happens to be the day that the official voter's registration office sends people to my campus to do exactly the same thing.

I stuck up my flyers, which had information about the Motor Voter legislation and all that, and this young woman saw me doing it.  She asked me if I worked for the "voting places."

I told her "No, but there are some people in the K building right now if you want to register immediately."  She went on her way to do that happily, so at least I feel like my flyer efforts weren't completely wasted.

I picked up a voter's registration form for myself.  A lot of people take voting for granted.  Meanwhile, I've been waiting practically all my life to vote.  I want my voice to be heard.  It may only be one voice out of the entire population of America, but it's my voice and there's no way it's going unheard.  I'm glad I can finally register, and then I'll be able to vote in the fall presidential election.

This.  Feels.  Awesome.