ORGANISED CHAOS
I hate voting. And for someone who considers themselves reasonably politically savvy, my ineptitude with the whole voting day thing is nothing short of embarrassing.

Fear not – I don’t plan on mounting any soapboxes, having grown up with mantras like: “politics and religion don’t make for diplomatic conversation”. And besides, I’m told good political commentary doesn’t reveal one’s position – so I’m not even gonna try. Though I will say I’m a big believer in voting for policy over personality. But yep, I find myself feeling embarrassed for those attempting to tackle politics as a gesture of social conscience or intellect, yet who might do better sticking to writing fluff.

So with my letterbox jammed with electoral blurb, it’s hard not to notice the race is truly on for that last minute grab for our vote – worse still, a stark reminder of my civic duty this Saturday! Don’t get me wrong, I’m pretty passionate about my electoral drop in the ocean – it’s just the whole voting day palaver that shits me.

It’s tedium. And it’s inconvenient. It’s organised chaos, at best!

When voting with the family, we’d have a plan of attack for the ordeal, which invariably went pear-shaped on the day. But it did involve bevvies with lunch to calm the nerves, arriving before 5.50pm, and politely accepting leaflets from frenzied partisans outside. “Just take one of each, smile and nod,” Mum would quip on our way in.

Of course being registered in your electorate always helps – many times in early adulthood I’ve had to hunt down some dodgy community hall from hell and found myself in that fucking absentee queue. At least I wasn’t alone, I figured. And is it just me, or does voting always fall after a big night out? I wouldn’t exactly call myself party-central, but wandering the voting booths like a trash-bag the day after just seems to be my lot.

Our names checked-off by the mild-mannered folk behind the big fold-out tables, it’s off to the cardboard booths with our oversized ballot papers to stuff them in a box after pencilling in political destiny. But what’s with the pencils? And I don’t know if I trust those boxes. I just can’t help but think that living in a world of such abundant tech savoir-faire – there has to be an easier way!

So it’s an interesting line-up we have in the City of Sydney. And in a bid for the pink vote - safety on our streets is high on the agenda, with radical proposals to address homophobic violence. And rightly so! At any rate, I remain cautiously optimistic.

Maybe instead of vigilantes or signs, give us a candidate who’s produced a feral nerve-gas? A lavender-scented substance that would temporarily paralyse the homophobes, who’d wake to find themselves completely cured of bigotry. Of course, such a candidate would also have to come up with a much easier ballot system!

Now there’s someone I’d vote for.

 Damien Stephens: This e-mail address is being protected from spambots. You need JavaScript enabled to view it

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