Forget everything you know about politics for a second. Forget about the
agendas, the scandals and the parties. Forget about who’s an elephant, an ass
or a fence-sitter.

In my world there are three kinds of political people: There are the
confident, bordering on headstrong; there are the apathetic; and then there are
those like me — yearning to boldly declare my convictions and join my
respective groupies, but still skeptical about where I stand. And more
importantly, with whom.

Since early January, when the 2008 presidential candidates began declaring
their intent to run for office, America’s political arena has been ablaze with
excitement. Everywhere I turn there is a budding campaign issue, a fresh
slogan, a seductive promise.

Through it all, I’ve watched eagerly as the presidential candidates
gathered at the debates, each armed with a bag of tricks, ready to throw the
best punch for a shot at victory. But amid the bustle of campaign activity and
the hope of impending political reform, I must admit: I’m lost. The last nine
months have turned me into a political wallflower — something with which I’m
entirely unfamiliar.

When President George W. Bush won his second election in 2004, I was
crushed. Despite desperately wanting to partake in the election, at the time I
was still a year shy of voting age. And as such was forced to stand by
indefensibly as he miraculously won another term. I spent the next three years
itching to vote so I could bring some fresh light to a dismal administration.

To say that I was anxious for the primaries and the commencement of
another election season would be a gross understatement. But now, as America
fast approaches the wake of what many — demonstrated by poll after poll — consider the worst presidency in American
history, my feelings about voting have surprisingly changed. It’s no longer the
patriotic form of participation I imagined, but rather an ominous
responsibility I feel ill-equipped to assume.

Looking at this bleak platform of candidates, I’m determined, and almost
frantic, to discover a gem among them and attach myself to that particular
presidential hopeful. But despite my efforts to look past each candidate’s
quirks and shortcomings, not one has earned my affection.

In fact, the more I study their campaigns, the more disenchanted I become
with their messages, and the more I come to understand those urging former Vice
President Al Gore to run for office.

Take, for example, democratic candidate Hillary Rodham Clinton. Born to a
Methodist family in Illinois, the cutthroat New York senator promises to put up
a definite fight, but her rough edges make her an unrelateable candidate that
is hard to pin down.

On the one hand, her apparent ferocity is commendable and appealing, but
she often appears to shrink from convictions after they become troublesome. Her
infamous fight for health care reform as former first lady and her prior
support for the Iraq War resolution are perfect examples; when popularity
dwindled on both issues, Clinton quickly jumped ship.

For candidate Sen. Barack Obama (D-Ill.), the problem is not so much a
dubious track record, but rather, the absence of one. Should I take his
opposition to the Iraq War, his efforts to end genocide in Darfur and his
promise to fill the cracks in America’s education system as sufficient evidence
of his ability? Should I vote for him in spite of his inexperience or because
of it?

Then there is the typical array of classic republican candidates to choose
from, all committed to tax cuts, scandals, the war on terrorism, revamping —
or abolishing — Social Security and
patrolling the border. Given my liberal tendencies, this type of political
conservativism just doesn’t appeal to me.

There is, however, one “republican” who does stand out — hopeless Ron Paul. Apart from his outspoken
noninterventionist beliefs, his commitment to freedom and his endorsement of
free trade, which alone might be enough to lure me in, many of Paul’s proposed
remedies are so far-fetched you almost wonder if he’s serious.

For instance, he advocates the abolition of the Federal Reserve, the
Internal Revenue Service, the Department of Education, the Department of
Homeland Security, the Federal Emergency Management Administration and the
Department of Energy.

So while he may call himself a republican, this former libertarian has no
more in common with the GOP than Clinton does. Despite his grandpa-like
charisma, the giggling and the mockery Paul has received from fellow
republicans indicate it’s unlikely he will earn his party’s nomination. I’m
left wondering whether he’s worth my time at all, or just a lost cause in this
political rat race.

At this point it’s impossible to tell.

Needless to say I can’t promise that I know who I’ll be voting come
primaries. In fact, I find myself wishing I were more of an extremist — more
like the confident or the apathetic, for whom the choice is easy. For now
though, I’ll go on politically confused as I hash out the pros and cons of each
presidential wannabe.

I can, however, promise you one thing — no matter who I pick, my choice
will be an educated one.