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Listen up, candidates. I’m going to tell you how to win my vote.

It’s easy, really. All you’ve got to do is: 1) have a shot at winning and 2) convince me you’re not as bad as the other guy who has a shot at winning.

That’s right, I’m a “Lesser Evil” voter. I completely respect those who vote for the person they prefer to see win, but that’s not my strategy.

I remain as unenthusiastic about my presidential options as I was four years ago. Back then, I realized that while policy issues could cause me to favor one guy over the other, I didn’t like either one all that much. I voted proudly, but sadly. I voted to minimize harm.

Experience makes it clear that candidates’ ideological differences can have enormous impact on public policy. Love it or hate it, this is the lesson of the past four years.

Whether you think starting a war in Iraq was a good idea or a bad idea, it was certainly Bush’s idea. Had things gone differently in Florida four years ago, things might be a lot different today for Iraqis and U.S. soldiers. The world might look on us differently.

Same goes for the home front. Whatever your issue, it will indeed make a difference which man occupies the Oval Office.

But it’s just not enough. Regardless of who wins, too many fundamental problems in our society will remain untouched. Until there is real equality and freedom, until we eliminate violence and hatred and poverty, I will never be satisfied with the idea that my vote empowers me to change society.

So if voting is not enough, what’s a citizen to do?

Growing up, I was a politically aware youngster. I rooted for the guy my parents were going to vote for. I followed the polls. I plunked myself down in front of the TV and listened intently to the debates. I was, of course, blissfully unaware of the issues.

I had no idea exactly how many billions of dollars should be spent on the military and how many on education. But no matter. It was more the process itself that fascinated me, the passion of the people involved. My community got plastered with stickers and yard signs because people hoped their collective involvement would make the world better.

On election night, I breathlessly awaited the results – until bedtime, of course. I usually had to wait to hear the news the next morning on the radio.

Then I turned 18, and the first ballot I cast was in the 2000 presidential election. As I struggled to figure out how my own views related to the U.S. political system, I realized my vote would go to the guy I disliked the least.

I want to do more. Some days I think I want to run for president – me, a bookish 21-year-old woman with no money to throw a campaign. I don’t expect I would win, and to tell you the truth I’d just as soon leave the job to someone else. Heck, I wouldn’t even vote for me.

But what a campaign that would be. In my fantasies I start off as a novelty story on the local news and become a novelty story on the national news. I somehow get myself invited to a debate with the “real” candidates and ask them the questions public discourse ignores.

After I lose (having attracted half a percent from the disillusioned protest voters) I write a book on whether it’s true that anyone can rise to the top in our society.

Some days, when I realize I can’t challenge the powerful face-to-face, I feel like I have to speak out.

I want to leaflet campus – not with campaign literature, but with the plain, unadorned questions that need to be asked.

I want to get up on the Campus Mall and hold an open mic, on behalf of no organization but myself. But I don’t want to preach. Feel free to step up and speak something, read something, whatever. Just don’t be hateful.

When I get to feeling this way I find myself saying what I think. All the time. It gets me in trouble.

Some days, when I’m really hopeless, I want to go start my own nation from scratch. Anyone could join as long as they don’t want to infringe on the rights of others.

This is the one that stops me. We’re human. We’re going to have conflict, and we’re going to have room for improvement. And while sometimes I can’t even see the path from here to a better society, I don’t really want to give it all up just yet.

If voting is not enough, what can we do? I can’t answer that conclusively, but I think it must have something to do with exercising our free speech to have thoughtful public discussions.

The people I admire most are those who are simultaneously unsatisfied and optimistic. They respect everyone’s humanity. I think this is the real best place to start.