This year (and most of the time), I am thankful for:
HarvardGirl, BrandeisGirl, Trebor, Schinkel, Subcontinent and her family, CornellBoy The Aged Ps, Roommate J, Athena and her roommates, The Street, Interns T, N, and C, the ex-neighbors, The Tales of the City series, The Wire, air conditioning, Mr. President Elect Obama, family, turkey (and sometimes ham), taco nights at ResidentialCollege, chocolate, chocolate croissants, Master Awesome, Frenchman Adviser, Connecticut, Adrian Tomine, Hanif Kureishi, Roger Ebert, Raymond Chandler, Coretta Scott King, the cabin, the continued health of the people I love, Lord Byron, Francis Crawford of Lymond, Dido Twite, fedoras, the inventor of nail polish, champagne, the Getty Museum, the liberal arts, Jeffrey Eugenides, civil rights, stationery, cookies, tea, conversation, Desmond Tutu, The West Wing, House, Stephen Fry, voter registration, the artist formerly known as Masterpiece Theater, salsa lessons, Knox College, Princeton, the United Nations, Atticus Finch, Alexandre Dumas, George Bernard Shaw, Four Weddings and a Funeral, Some Like it Hot, mayonnaise, Small World Coffee, and YOU.

As it turns out, I didn't go to the protest, not because the weather was bad but because I went to bed at one thirty, set my alarm for ten thirty, and then stayed awake stressing and making lists until three thirty, at which point I turned off my alarm clock, rolled over, and woke up at noon.
Given that the torrential rain we were expecting didn't actually show up, I kind of regret not heading up to New York, but I DON'T AT ALL regret getting enough sleep to function.
Instead of my exciting tales of protestation, have a poster:

It's been a while. It certainly has. The week after the election was a race against time to finish all my homework and reading that I neglected over Fall Break (in favor of getting two paper written) and on election night (in favor of, you know, being able to tell my grandchildren that I didn't spend the most important night of my sophomore year in the library).
That Friday was fun, though, I went to watch Pride & Prejudice (the inferior but still good Keira Knightly version) with a friend of mine from Freshman Orientation Week who I ran into, essentially for the first time since then, on the train back from Newark. She's a tea snob, and so the evening consisted of drinking Russian Earl Grey out of bone china. She also had silk carpets on her dorm room floor. Yeah.
Anyway, the whole experience led me to realize (for the second time) that I don't prefer Colin Firth over Matthew MacFadyen as Mr. Darcy. They play him very differently, so it's difficult to compare the shy Mr. Darcy who speaks before he thinks with the haughty Mr. Darcy who is trying his best to get over the elitism he was born with. It helps that they're both really handsome. I mean, when does that not help? :)
The rest of the weekend was spent on homework. (Ex)RussianRoommate, Roommate J, and I went to see the Princeton South Asian Theatrics fall show. It was okay; cute accents, so-so acting. Then we went and painted mugs at the awesome literally underground café. Mine is pretty ugly, but covered in inside jokes having to do with the faux a capella group that Roommate J, CC, HaHa, and I are founding. It's called "[Nom de Plume] and the [collective ethnicity of my other roommates]s."
This week was less of a sprint to the finish, but it was still great to reach the end of today and know that all I have on my slate for the weekend is going to watch the Triangle Show. I flirted with the thought of going to the NYC version of tomorrow's nation-wide California Proposition Eight protest. I may still go, but the weather forecast is for a 100% chance of thunder storms, although it will be unseasonably warm. If I wake up and it's beautifully sunny, I'll go. If not, I'm there in spirit. It really was difficult to feel completely happy on November fifth about the end of one kind of inequality when many of my friends were still feeling the impact of another form of inequality.
Unrelatedly, last night Roommate J and I went to a salsa party on The Street in an eating club we had never been to before. It was to use our new moves more than anything else, especially since the last salsa class was on Wednesday, but we ended up having a lot of fun, and we ran into our dance instructors and the male dance instructor's girlfriend, as well as another girl from our class, so it felt like a final exam and we passed spectacularly well.
Next Friday we're continuing to expand our social horizons by going to the annual Drag Ball. I have my outfit all planned out, but somewhere I need to find suspenders.
At any rate, tonight I have a French New Wave film to watch to see if I want to do my oral presentation on it, and then an Almodóvar film to watch to clear the bad taste from my mouth if the French one doesn't work out. I'll buy cookies. In fact, I'll buy cookies now. Farewell.

I wore blue underwear today. That may or may not have been completely irrelevant.
Time to collect my thoughts.
I really do believe, no matter how much of a cliché it is at this point, that what I witnessed tonight will be something I tell my grandchildren (or at least my friends' grandchildren) about. I'll remember where I was. I'll remember that I hit refresh on CNN.com almost manically all evening long, I'll remember calling Dad when Iowa went to Obama and said, "We were there at the beginning." I'll remember telling Roommate J when Virginia went to Obama, her absentee-voting victory dance around the room, and the realization two minutes later that Obama had won. Not just Virginia, but the Presidency.
I'll remember our sighs of relief, I'll remember watching John McCain's concession speech and explaining to HaHa and CC that, yes this means Obama won.
I'll remember watching coverage of Ebenezer Baptist Church and tearing up as the pastor spoke of the leaps and bounds from the civil rights movement to leading the free world.
Most of all I'll remember, with three minutes to go until Obama's acceptance speech, running outside with all three roommates and taking a victory lap around Holder courtyard, cheering at the tops of our lungs. People poked their heads out of doors and windows and cheered along with us. Catharsis doesn't even begin to describe it.
Then we came inside and watched the speech. I wish I had been there in Grant park. I've never been prouder of my home state.
Here's the main thing: for this, my third cognizant November 5th-after-an-election, I am happy with the choice my country made. And that means a lot.
I don't expect the next four years to be perfect--not by any means--I just expect them to be years when I can feel a hint of patriotism every once and awhile. I've been a political underdog all my adult life. It's time, to borrow a phrase, for a change.

Maybe this means next year the Orioles (or the Cubs!) will win the World Series.

Maybe not.