Don’t get me wrong, I love America. I love that I can dye my hair pink, cafeterias can charge $8 for a grilled cheese sandwich, a family such as the Kardashians can have such an empire, and that I have to wake up every morning three hours before class just to get a parking spot. Really, I love it.

I try to exercise my rights as a free American citizen on a daily basis by swearing a lot, wearing as much glitter as humanly possible and listening to the new Taylor Swift album at full volume while driving down interstate 8.

Every four years, however, I am asked to exercise my rights in a different way. While I’m thankful my homegirls fought for the right (shout out to you Susan B Anthony), I find it become more of an annoyance than anything else.

On Election Day I walked into my local polling place with pride, ready to spew my left-wing, gay- loving, democratic opinions all over the ballot with honor and self-importance. I walk out of that same polling place feeling empowered—free and full of pride for my country.

Everyday leading up to my champion showcase at the ballot box, however, is a completely different story.

Attack ads, slander, mudslinging, town hall and in-class debates, excessive front lawn signs, annoying stickers on every car I see, binders full of women and more poignantly—in this election than ever before—memes on memes on memes.

I get it. It’s campaigning; this is what it’s expected to look like. My brain is expected to be so inundated with political hullabaloo that when it comes time to cast my vote, I should be well informed from all of the commercials and countless mailers I’ve received. With the many stickers for this candidate or that candidate; and “yes” on this prop and “no” on that one should be clear and right as rain in my head. I should walk into my polling place with clear eyes and a full heart.

Well I don’t. Because by the time the second Tuesday in November rolls around, I am so sick of anything politics-related the second anyone starts talking about donkeys or elephants I’m ready to pass on a swift punch to the face. Kind of like the sort Helga Pataki serves up to Brainy every time he hears her profess her love to Arnold.

It’s not that I don’t appreciate nor understand the importance of the American political system. I really do. I took political science my senior year of high school with one of my favorite teachers ever and it was great. I free up in a loud Jewish household where we were encouraged to speak our minds, while responding “I don’t know” to a posed question was not allowed.

I love that I get to have an opinion, loud and proud, and demonstrate my rights not only as an American but also as a woman. I appreciate the hard work and ridiculous amount of money put in to spread the word and—even though it’s mostly for personal gain—I think politicians do some good on their campaign trail.

I love seeing debates break out on Facebook by people who have no business debating politics. I love all the memes and Tumblr pages dedicated to the candidates and I love that people still think Ron Paul has a shot at the presidency. I love the endless “Saturday Night Live” sketches and “Weekend Update” jokes about how ridiculous this country is and how even more ridiculous the candidates running for presidency are.

Now that the election is over, I can return to my regularly scheduled programming. I can stop hating my friends for having different political views than me. My professors can stop preaching to me about what props to vote “yes” on. Everyone can take their agendas and get out of my face because all of this campaigning and political talk takes away from what I love most about November. Enjoying Christmas before Thanksgiving. And beards—lots and lots of beards.