Barack Obama is inaugurated this week. And I am strangely unmoved. I am excited, I suppose, in some clinical, detached way. Happy that the 8 year Bush nightmare is coming to an end, and with the swearing in of a democrat, in a better way than I had dared to hope for. But I see the sparkles in the eyes of some of my friends who are so very moved by this occurence, and I am sad that I cannot muster up the same level of emotion.

Perhaps part of it is lingering Hilary sadness - the longing that I still have to see a woman place her hand on that bible. And yes, the accusations are true, I like many of her supporters did see it somewhat as her desert. I wanted it badly. And on Tuesday I get my second choice.

I think there's more to it than that, though. I think perhaps I am protecting my heart with cynicism, not letting myself beleive in change and hope because I fear I will be disappointed. I want a new New Deal, a better FDR for this new century, but I don't believe it will come to pass.

Like I do with more intimate matters, I am keeping myself cool and distant to prevent some future pain. But it means I miss out on the joy, too.