Being a political candidate for city council was surprisingly not as stressful as dealing with the corrupt data in Europe and wannabe spies, like before. It has been a few months now since the day I slipped in an Italian hotel bathroom while have a f*ckation with Nicolas, who turns out to be married to a man, Sven, another real estate tycoon in Los Hellas. Despite spending a week or something in a coma I am here. In Los Hellas. Running for City Council.
And my best girlies Chelsea, a techie hacker, and Kelly a suburban mom of 3, are running a legitimate marketing campaign, I am impressed! Chelsea with her tech and online background is doing great with SEO and internet traffic - and Kelly with her ears to the ground and former marketing girl for Google, has been designing the best posters and coming up with the best community appearance ideas. I am blessed.
This particular morning I feel, reflective, about everything that has happened. Was this my destiny? To change the city of Los Hellas forever? Why was everything adding up and all the little chess “signs” and the music… was everything going wrong in Europe to point me to this path instead? What is life.
Italian pop music has been playing in my head. It has been three days now of this. I wish it was the same song, an ear worm, but it’s like there’s a radio and someone keeps changing the stations but all in Italian. Reminds me of being in Europe- its amazing how music can trick our bodies because sometimes I even feel that I am still in Italy: the smell of fresh bread, Italian pop classics playing, birds chirping. The sense of a slower tempo which simply does not exist in Los Hellas or the U.S for that matter. An Italian vibe has been living within me lately, while inside I start to feel less and less present.
Croissants and Butter
Still new, to me, I have a small routine now of going down to the tiniest little office space in downtown where I usually meet Chelsea, Kelly, both, and see what is in there for me to do. Last I checked yard signs needed to be prepped so I make my way down, to downtown which is literally going down one of the worlds steepest city hills from my apartment to the financial district of Los Hellas which is not particularly the safest part of town either.
On the way to the office another Italian song plays in my head and I smell the most tasteful, buttery, bakery-in-the-early-morning smell swirling around the small conference room that is stacked in boxes and political marketing materials. The bakery smell alone transforms me more to… yup… Italy.
Upon walking in, Chelsea hands me a small paper cup of coffee and a pastry. The pastry looks so completely packed with butter and love I nearly want to melt. The smell (combined with the music in my head) transported me completely back to Italy. Was I missing that place? Craving it? Either way whatever Chelsea handed me looked worldly and delightful…
Me: Wow this is delicious and so creamy. Thanks Chels!
Chelsea looks at me completely confused
Chelsea: what?
Me: this pastry, this croissant is so moist and buttery. thank you
Chelsea: what the f are you talking about? They are two days old from the place around the corner that uses questionable oils…
I paused for a moment. Wait what is SHE talking about? For a minute I second guessed myself to look down at my hand and pastry… it IS old and dry.
I double check what I am holding myself, Chelsea is right! These are two day old and from a questionable corner bakery which is also sometimes a disco.
But minutes ago I tasted it, the butter. The creamy softness. I could smell it walking down the hall? What I saw earlier was just as real as what I’m seeing now, a crusty old pastry. Which one is really, real?
This seems to be a minor glitch in the matrix and without looking crazy to Chelsea squeak out the only thing to play it off
Me: I’m being sarcastic
Phew. The whole room breathes again. For a moment it was awkward for everyone that I would think an old pastry was fresh out of the oven.
Now it’s only awkward for me… because I DID smell and taste a fresh Italian bread but I was in fact holding something else. What is making real, real?
Back to Work
The three of us were in the campaign room that day and without speaking much we all gathered what we needed. Kelly broke the awkward science
Kelly: you are changing right?
<Kelly points to Ella>
Me: what do you mean?
Kelly: at 11am you are stopping by your old elementary school for a reading, then with an hour or so after you are doing cocktails at the Silverman’s
Me: I am?
Kelly: Yes. this Lululemon fit you have going on has about… 1-2 hours of shelflife
Me: Shit. I can run home in a half hour or
Kelly: There’s baby wipes for the smell, and I set aside a casual outfit for the school in the coat closet thing down the hall. For cocktails, that’s on you. Uber home after, then the event
I realize here how much in my life I have underestimated Kelly for going the “mom route” right from high school. I see as well how it wasn’t her 1 or 2 years at google that made her great at marketing— she was gifted anyway. And when she is 40 her kids will be nearly heading to college… and I will be…
Kelly: Hello?! Ella! Are you there?
Me: yes
Kelly: I need to leave in 20 to delivery yard signs, then pickup the small one from some hippy Montessori whatever across the bridge. I’m out… in 20!!!!
Me: yes ma’am I got this
Even though the day started off nice with calm weather, blue skies, good sleep… I am feeling a bit, weird.
First I had a total miscommunication (hallucination?) with Chelsea, then I guess dazed off with Kelly? I almost felt sleepy, or drunk. This day was feeling “off” at any rate.
After an hour or so, us three gals split our ways to our various responsibilities. Chelsea gave me side-eye about the pastry before she left, Kelly gave me an extended hug which felt really comforting.
I did my duties- changed my clothes, read books to an elementary school class, changed again for cocktails, asleep by midnight. What a life this is, I thought to myself if this becomes my actual job. I started to realize why politics was so important—having such a comfortable life, while having to touch base with so many lives was in many ways more relaxing than running an online app affecting 100MM people’s lives or worrying about data servers. On the other it was a bit draining to think how you looked reflected intelligence, where in technology the reverse is true. People who dressed like trashcans made the internet, this style was not accepted in politics.
To top it all a year ago I was finding missing data gaps in venture capital globally, linked to powerful families. Here I was weeks after voter registration deadlines, running for city council of my home city, Los Hellas. What a world.
Mambo Italiano
Campaigning seems to go as planned per se. Lots of tasks involving the community and checking to make sure people can vote and will vote. Lately, my main competition Amy Huang who was secretly backed by corrupt real estate monarch Mary Poros, was not doing so well. Polls showed her support declining and she was struggling to get any good PR. I wasn’t getting any media space besides whatever SEO Chelsea was doing in her hacker lab, but at the same time I wasn’t getting bad press either. A win is a win?
Watching TV at home eating dinner I get a call from Chelsea
Chelsea: have you been checking discord?
Me: No, why? I just heated up dinner
Chelsea: I think Amy Huang will have to drop out of the race…
Me: Why do you think that?
Chelsea: Online chatter is that she is having issues with some investigations and there’s a few people who are just roasting her non-stop. Its great to watch but I can’t see how she will survive
Me: Do I have any other serious competition besides Amy?
Chelsea: not really. It’s ranked choice voting which sucks. Even so if Amy is not in the race for our district— your district— it’s pretty much yours.
Me: You think?
Chelsea: Pretty much. There’s only three left for any other candidates to join but I can’t see anyone who could have the velocity, especially again it’s just for your district.
Me: Interesting. I don’t think Amy Huang would drop out unless something apocalyptic happened.
Chelsea: let’s see, I am keeping my eye on the various forums online. You’d be surprised the trash random pseudo-hackers are digging up against this woman.
And zero links to us, I mean, I really don’t know these guys online but it's a lot of pressure going on for Amy, for sure
Me: Alright keep me posted then, I won’t hold my breath. Have a good nice girlie.
IF this was true that my competition was struggling, my only real actual competitor stopping me from being elected to city council, this would be rather huge.
Seemed odd. Life was so hard and challenging in Europe and now everything slips into place? Too good to be true? Why were things becoming so… easy for me?
Was it because I was following “the signs”?
I was starting to feel disbelief a little bit. No daily weird fires to put out and things were swimmingly going along for me now. I looked back on the week, the last few days and everything matches up. Except well, me thinking that office pastry from Chelsea was the best thing ever and it was old. That was probably just a glitch in the matrix. I am sure my mind has been easy and I have to let it go.
As I come to peace with all that had happened, and all that is happening, another Italian song starts playing in my head. Ah ha. That’s the catch. I have to listen to Italian music, in my head, no one else can hear…
<music plays in Ella’s mind>
“Hey mambo, mambo Italiano — Hey mambo, mambo Italiano — Go, go, go, you mixed up Siciliano— All you Calabrese-a, do the mambo like-a crazy with a…”