Forgive me for being an Obama Stalker/Groupie.

I confess, tonight I acted like a total Obama groupie.  (No, not on the level of the “Obama girl”).

If you saw my many tweets & fury of facebook activity, then you know I was surprised today with a coveted ticket to President Obama’s commencement speech at Kalamazoo Central High School.

I guess I was a bit of a stalker after I asked the first secret service guy if I could meet Obama.  After I asked the second and the third, I realized I was being a little stalkerish and that they were treating me like a groupie.

If groupie can be defined as: “an enthusiastic supporter or follower,” then so be it.

I’m a groupie.

Ever since I read Obama’s amazing memoir, Dreams From My Father, I have felt like we should be best friends who should meet for coffee sometime.

While I was reading his book last year, I wrote a post about how we experienced so many of the same thoughts & feelings about growing up biracial in America.

I have never met any other biracial person -in person, in memoir or otherwise- who has articulated with such depth and beauty what I have felt and experienced growing up black and white in this crazy-in-denial-racist country.  So for him to write this book which has become so meaningful to me, of course I want to meet him!

Not because he’s the freaking President, or because he’s a (really successful) New-York-Times-Best-Selling published author whom I want to grill with questions about the rigors of publishing, but because he’s turned out to be somebody who understands my bizarre biracial journey.

So, yeah, I think we should friends.  Sue me.   Him being the President has very little bearing on my wanting to have a chit-chat.  Trust me, I hate politics & involve myself as little as possible.  Some have asked me, “so, did you vote for Obama just because he’s black?”  Just for kicks I respond, “No!  (pause) just because he’s biracial.”  Folks really don’t know what to do with that one, even though I am totally kidding. 😉

After the graduation was over and I watched my biracial BFF him fly away in the Marine Helicopter and I felt really sad. Like, obnoxiously and un-naturally sad that I didn’t get to meet him.

All I wanted was fairly unrealistic 45 seconds to tell him how how much his book meant to me.  It was in the fact that I tried to charm my way into meeting him that probably left me feeling so disappointed.  (Well, let’s just be honest, I could be expecting a visit from Aunt Flo as well.  She always manages to bring a heavy dose of emotions in her knapsack).

I was also sad as a genuine extrovert.  It felt so simple to me: he’s less than 50 feet away, why shouldn’t I be able to walk up and say one thing for crying out loud?  Jeez, it’s not like I have some bad intention or something.

Other than all that drama, I took some great pictures, loved hearing his amazing speech, (even while a guy died of a heart attack in the midst of it), and was so inspired by our Prez.

I’m going to dream big, that one day I’ll get my (finished & published) memoir in his hands and we can get that coffee and talk about being biracial. 😉

He made it abundantly clear: you HAVE to dream!