Eenie, meenie, miney, mo, who to vote for?

"Wake up! It's time for the festival of democracy!" shouted my boyfriend over the phone last Monday morning.

Although irritated to be awoken so early on the national holiday, I was surprised by his enthusiasm for the legislative election.

"So, you finally decided to vote now?" I asked.

"No, I'm just getting caught up in the frenzy."

What?

My boyfriend admits that he has never exercised his right to vote since he became eligible in 1997, even after the fall of Soeharto and the beginning of the so-called reform era.

"I'm just so disgusted with the politicians. And things haven't exactly changed after the reform era. It's like a case of bad deja vu," he said.

I take a more optimistic view. My first election was in 1999, and despite my subsequent deep regret over my choice of party, I have never lost hope.

I figure that as I have the right to vote, instead of throwing up my hands and whining about the situation, I should try to change things through casting my vote, even though I am not a member of a political party.

So it came as a bummer that for this year's election, I am not registered. Maybe it's because I live in a rented house and am never home during the day, or perhaps because I got my ID card when I was still living in a boardinghouse.

At my family's residence in Bandung, West Java, I was not registered either, although I am still listed on the family census card.

I am out in the cold, politically. Besides, I could not decide who to vote for, with the 24 parties and the list of legislators I am not familiar with.

Still, I ended up checking which party and legislative candidate my friends voted for.

The sheer number of parties available apparently left some of them baffled. One spent a couple of minutes in the polling booth as she could not decide which party to choose.

Did she plump for her lucky number 24? Er, no. Unlucky number 13? Nope. She panicked and ended up doing an eenie, meenie, miney, mo and voted for a small party.

Direct voting for a legislative candidate among the dozens up for election also left some literally grasping at straws.

Another friend confessed that she punctured the picture of legislated candidate Biem T. Benyamin merely because he is the son of legendary comic actor Benyamin Suaib.

"Hey, I didn't know any other candidate! And unless Mooryati Soedibyo is giving free facials for all Jakartans, I would never vote for her," she said, referring to the traditional cosmetics queen who is in a commanding lead in Jakarta.

My brother, being 20 years old and naive, voted for former minister and recent People's Consultative Assembly deputy Ginandjar Kartasasmita, despite the graft allegations against him a few years ago.

His reason? Ginandjar was the only figure he was familiar with.

Dozens of other friends were simply so confused by the choice or skeptical about the candidates that they did not bother to go to the polling stations.

Three of my colleagues, who all work at the same PR consultant, are really sick of the election as their company represents one of the presidential candidates, one of those artful dodgers who have resurfaced despite an ignoble past.

"This legislative election is nothing compared to what the next presidential election in July will be like. Then we will see the candidates acting like a bunch of animals fighting over a piece of meat," said one of them.

In our 20s and early 30s, we feel that we are too young to play the bitter spent youth. But we find the sight of politicians fighting for their piece of the pie both ghoulish and ridiculous, for it is clear that they are after the money pot that comes with a cushy job in the government.

We are a group of educated, hard-working professionals who try to make a living and live in an honest, decent way. With that in mind, do not blame us for sleeping in last Monday.

We would like to vote -- really. Perhaps next time.

-- Indira Husin