For all my older friends who don't understand younger voters who refuse to vote for Hillary, or why voters in Britain chose to exit the European Union, or why Donald Trump is the Republican nominee for President: establishment politics have failed my generation. The outrage will only continue to increase until new leadership and policies begin to reflect the need for change.

A guy walks up to a woman at a bar. He flirts with her. He makes small talk, but the woman insists she isn't gonna go home with him.

Guy says, "What if I offer you $1 million to sleep with me?" The woman's never had a million dollars in her life. She stops and considers the offer very seriously.

The guy changes his mind, says, "What if I change my offer to a dollar instead?"

Woman is aghast. "What kind of woman do you think I am?"

Guy says, "We already figured that out. Now we're just negotiating."

This is exactly how I feel when I honestly try to imagine myself voting for Clinton. For weeks all we heard about was the 'Platform' and how Bernie was helping to make it the most progressive in history. But ultimately the platform doesn't mean anything. Bernie's endorsement doesn't make me want to vote for Hillary because when I voted for Bernie in the primary it wasn't just because I believe in him. A large part of why I voted for Bernie is because I believe establishment politics are broken and the system is so far removed from being a functioning democracy. I voted for him because I reject the judgment, Neoliberal philosophies, and the lack of character of Hillary Clinton. Those reasons didn't suddenly disappear. Neither Trump or Hillary are fit to be president and I intend to fight on for the revolution by supporting downticket races and promoting the hell out of Jill Stein.

I'll be the first to admit that since the endorsement it's been tough getting out of bed in the morning. But I wrote a few lines of Homer to hang on my door for inspiration when I go out every morning:

Striking his breast, reproved his heart with the worlds:

'Endure, my heart; e'en worse thou didst one endure.'

The Bern for Revolution In My Heart

  The Democratic National Convention is a month away and I've never felt such compulsion in my life.  I can feel the winds of revolution rising to the chorus of millions of Americans suddenly realizing impossible is nothing, defeat is never permanent and to struggle for justice is to earn this precious gift of life we've all been given. 

  With my calendar laid out in front of me and a stack of unpaid bills to my left I'm trying to imagine a way.  I'm trying to imagine how I might get there, how it might work out, and then I'm also trying to imagine setting aside the dream to honor my responsibilities.  Imagining the latter tears me apart inside.   I won't pretend i'm right all the time but I do try to stay as close to the edge as I can.  By that I mean that out on the edge you see all kinds of things you can't see from the center.  Most people stick to the center, society couldn't function if it didn't teach people to need the safety and predictability of that place where you obey authority, pay your bills, have kids and raise them to become another self-multiplying cog in the machine. 

  But the edge, that's where you get dirty and accept pain and rejection in return for something quite different.  True courage is only found after learning what there is to be afraid of by experiencing it.  You can never understand the shape of the world until you've spent some time near the edge, out where you might fall over.  I walk beside the edge as much as I can trying to catch a glimpse, straining to hear a whisper of what is, what's to come, and what might be.  If I had been alive during the mid 18th century I'd like to imagine I'd have written an almanac entitled 'depending on the whether'.  But almanacs have become relics from our time spent toiling in agrarian society and like the the fruits of the American revolution, are outdated beyond usefulness.  The orbit of the earth and the position of the stars in our sky can offer no guidance in a world that frequently changes overnight.  In order to see the shape of things, I stay as close to the edge as I can without going over. 

  Here I am now, at the precipice with the wind howling at my back.  Everything i've learned, all the doubt, the fear, the pain and the hope- it all tells me now is the time to take a step without feet.  The winds have never spoken more of revolution, perhaps won't again for another 20 years.  I'd hate to miss it.  Depending on the weather.