Then I moved from the East Coast to California and everything changed. I found myself voting on propositions most people have never heard of but become experts on once inside the voting booth. But that has turned out to be the simplest part of the process.

Today, near Berkeley’s campus for the much-hyped Super Tuesday, we had to actually be “taught” how to vote.

No fill in the bubbles. No check boxes. Instead, my neighbor turned voting instructor said I needed to “heavily but not too heavily” sketch a line that connected an arrow near the candidate of my choice. Use a black pen. Apply pressure but don’t underline. It felt like an art project.

She had to explain twice. I couldn’t hear her the first time because another assistant was screaming at the man in front of me. “You’re the one that needs the Libertarian ballot, right? Do we have a Libertarian ballot?”

A half hour later I left feeling vanquished. I’d contributed to something historic, had a say in my governmental leadership. And yes, I’d conquered the automated ballot box, even if it beeped at me more than the Libertarian when I entered my completed form.
Maybe my arrows were too dark.