On confusion and inclusion

I grew up in a spiritual bubble, of sorts. My parents disagree rather drastically about religion, and decided to raise their children in a neutral way. In other words, the topic was never mentioned. I had no learned answer when my six year old friends would ask, “Do you believe in God?” Puzzled, I would come home and ask my parents for clarification, with no success. Though my mom would’ve loved to talk to me about God, her response was typically to be evasive, and turn the question around on me. “What do YOU believe?” My dad’s attempt to balance atheism and neutrality was characteristically cryptic and went something like this: “Life is so complicated, the world is so complex, that I do think some higher power could very well be at play. But then I think, if there’s a God, why are there terrible things, like war?”

This philosophical musing could be, to me today, an interesting source of adult conversation. But to a second-grader, it was simply confusing. I appreciate that my parents wanted me to have the ability to make my own decisions about religion, but I often wish that spirituality had been taught to me in a more black and white way. It’s difficult to craft an educated opinion, let alone an entire belief system, without even a basic starting framework.

Growing up, I continued to have a strange relationship with religion. I did not know what it meant when my friends couldn’t come over to play on Wednesday afternoons because of CCD and began to imagine God as a Zeus-like figure, living in the clouds. Later, in high school, I became somewhat dismissive of organized religion. My derisive attitude was born, at least partially, of an utter lack of understanding. It was much easier to treat religion as something that was not worth my time than to view it as an area where my knowledge was lacking.

College transformed this attitude, as it tends to do with so many different aspects of our self concept and our understanding of the world. Meeting people from diverse backgrounds forces you to grow, and by random chance, a lot of my earliest and most enduring friends at Maryland were Catholic. Just being around them taught me a little about religion – the meaning of communion, what one does (or rather, does not do) during Lent, that Ash Wednesday is more than just a funny sounding date on my calendar. As I learned passively from my experiences, I no longer felt dismissive of religion. Instead, I became increasingly aware of just how limited my knowledge was. This has been an unending source of discomfort ever since.

One of my friends used to invite me to a free weekly dinner, hosted by the university’s Catholic Student Center. Feeling uneasy in a way that is impossible to articulate, I always declined, but she doggedly mistook my discomfort for timidity. “Father Bill encourages non-Catholics to attend.”

Another friend and I once met someone at a housewarming party who, for some reason, brought up that he was “Christian in name, but didn’t really believe in any of that stuff.” My friend turned and said, “Oh, that’s the same as Jason.” I shook my head, tried weakly to succinctly express the complexity of my beliefs, and ultimately settled for “it’s more complicated than that.” He gave me a blank look, and bluntly asked, “Ok yeah, but do you celebrate Easter, like for the real reasons?” Unable to claim any childhood memories of Easter that did not involve dyed eggs or rabbits, the unspoken conclusion of the exchange was, “So you’re not really a Christian.”

I have many uncomfortable memories like this, from being slapped with the flat response of “it’s Friday” when talking about ordering wings at happy hour during the month of March to exploring cathedrals abroad, including the Vatican itself. All are born not just out of a lack of knowledge on my part, but out of the paranoia, justified or not, that others somehow judge me harshly for my ignorance.

An episode of public radio’s This American Life is what inspired me to write about this topic in the first place. The story focuses on Reverend Carlton Pearson, formerly a rising star in the Pentecostal church. He alienated the evangelical world and drove away most of his 5,000 member congregation when he decided he no longer believed in Hell – that it made more sense to preach about God’s love than fear of His wrath. One of the most striking segments, to me, is an interview with Theresa Reid, a member of Pearson’s congregation who stuck with him through the controversy. She describes a time when she was confronted while on a walk by some neighbors who told her they thought that her beliefs were dangerous.

They felt no inhibition about letting us know that we were going down the wrong path. I’ve had that experience in the grocery store. It makes it seem even more ridiculous to me, the whole mindset that I grew up with, when I look at it and I experience it from the other side, as the target of the proselytizing. It makes it that much more clear to me that what we have done… to people of other faiths has been really pretty insensitive, and pretty mean, even though we did it in the name of God and even though we meant well.

When someone comes up to me and tries to tells me that I should change or I’m going to Hell, I kind of have compassion on that person because they don’t really know how that sounds. They don’t realize how mean-spirited that sounds.

I’ve never really been accosted by glassy-eyed proselytizers, and I certainly don’t think that my friends are trying to be rude to me. Still, Reid’s message resonates with me. It speaks, I think, to the subtle, macro-level challenge that I face. Why should not growing up with religion preclude me from having a relationship with God? I pray every night before I get in bed and once, while asleep, had what I believe was a deeply spiritual conversation with my cousin Melanie, weeks after she passed away. But without a background in organized religion, there is a part of me that may always feel inadequate.

Maybe I’m just being naïve, but I don’t believe that religion should be an uncomfortable experience. Because of my upbringing, I can’t just jump into a chosen faith – like my father, there’s too much that I disagree with, too much that I question. But I’m not willing to accept that this makes me ineligible for salvation. There’s something comforting about going to church, something about having another source of grounding and support that greatly appeals to me.

This is, to date, the conclusion I’ve reached. That I value God, but don’t quite agree with or understand everything about organized religion. I realize that this is in no way unique. Most people, I’m sure, go through periods of self-examination when they question assumptions they’ve been raised to hold as truths. And maybe that’s what bothers me the most – that everyone must ultimately find their own way, but that without an existing framework, I’ve had an awfully hard time getting started.

Let there be light

On Christmas Eve, 1968, America watched excitedly on primetime tv as Apollo 8 orbited the moon. From outer space, Commander Frank Borman recited the ten opening lines of the Bible as he became the first human being to see Earth from so far away. I heard about this on NPR this morning. Borman's words hadn't been planned in advance by NASA, and they struck many people with their poignancy. Glynn Lunney, a NASA flight controller working that night, captured the spirit of the moment exceptionally well:

"It's almost like thinking about the human race growing up, coming out of the caves, growing up, making all the mistakes that we do, and then somehow having the intellectual ability to create something that goes to the moon," he said. "It's sort of like ... it's our best."

1968 was a tough year, filled with political assasinations and Vietnam, with the Cold War serving as an ominous backdrop. I've written before about the appeal of moments of unifying patriotism. The space race certainly served as one of these moments. Archibald MacLeish wrote in the New York Times about the transcendent power of outer space:

"To see the earth as it truly is, small and blue and beautiful in that eternal silence where it floats, is to see ourselves as riders on the earth together, brothers on that bright loveliness in the eternal cold—brothers who know now they are truly brothers."

Forty years later, on Christmas eve 2008, I am still drawn by the feelings of unity that these words evoke. When you look past the crazed shopping frenzy and overplayed music, the spirit of Christmas is really not so different from the theme of Borman's address or MacLeish's poem. We're all a bunch of earthlings, living on a blue orb, pondering the miracle of our own existence.

So in Borman's words, "goodnight, good luck, a Merry Christmas, and God bless all of you, all of you on the good Earth."

How 'bout a baseball game?

Dear Mark Teixeira,

Please sign with the Orioles. I know they’re probably not offering as much money as the Red Sox, but you have to understand that Peter Angelos isn’t a great owner. In his defense, we’ve been burned by big contracts for respected sluggers in the past (see Belle, Albert). So maybe our offer isn’t the richest. But when you’re making $150 million, does an extra couple million really make a huge difference? When you have the opportunity to live near your family and be the face of your hometown team, perhaps not.

Let me tell you about my experience with baseball. My earliest memories are linked to Henry, my divorced grandmother’s late “friend,” who would take me and my sister Kayla to games. Back then, in the early 90’s, the Orioles were mediocre and Henry had to bribe us with ice cream in upside down batting helmets to get us to agree to go. Nevertheless, he loved going, and he loved the idea of dragging us with him. “How ‘bout a baseball game?” he’d inevitably ask, every time he’d visit.

Awhile after Henry passed away, several things happened to make an O’s fan out of this ice cream-eating kid. One summer, my dad instituted a policy of mandatory exercise for us. At least 15 minutes of riding bikes everyday, and 10 of tossing around a baseball. Initially we viewed this as a chore – an obstacle to playing with action figures in the air conditioning. But gradually we began to enjoy it more, and started batting in the backyard, and playing games like hot box. We started attending more Orioles games as a family, always running late and missing the first inning and a half, always parking for free at one of my dad’s clients’ offices and walking the rest of the way to Camden Yards. My sister and I discovered the joy of listening to Fred Manfra and Jim Hunter calling the games on WTOP. And in 1996, a few weeks after watching the Orioles defeat the Tigers as my birthday party, I heard from Fred and Jim that they’d made the playoffs.

We went to lots of games over the next several years, including a Divisional Series game against the Mariners. Kayla and I paid $30 of our parents’ money for an autographed photo of B.J. Surhoff at her elementary school’s silent auction (slyly waiting until just before the auction ended to outbid our competition, a pair of stout brothers whose names I forget). When we couldn’t attend the games in person, we’d listen to them on the radio or watch them on TV (ready to play, on HTS). We would mock Michael Reghi (see You LATER!) and save newspaper clippings (New York, 0-3 to start the ’98 season). Baseball, specifically the Orioles, had become a huge part of my life.

Over time, the O’s kept losing and, like many fans, we stopped going to as many games. But even after eleven years of mediocrity-bordering-on-pathetic-terribleness, my love for the team has not dampened. I still hate Jeffrey Maier and idolize Cal Ripken Jr. Spring training always breeds eternal optimism, and each free agent signing or trade sparks a little excitement within me (except, I’ll admit, dealing Erik Bedard. I can remember discussing his potential with my friend Matt in high school math class following one of his first major league games. It makes me sad that he reached it, and then we let him go).

I am confident that many people feel the same way. That a consistently competitive team would awaken the latent Orioles fan in many us. And that Camden Yards is just a few wins away from being sold out. There’s something magical about this blind hope. It’s part of what makes being a sports fan so unique and enduring.

Does part of you feel this way too, Mr. Teixeira? Please come home. Young Marylanders, like we both once were, could use a new star to root for.

Sincerely,
Jason

Missing something

Throughout the course of any given week, I consume an abundance of unhealthy calories by indulging in things like french fries, Chipotle, and beer, so I try to cut out junk in other places, where I can stand it: reduced fat cream cheese, not eating much candy, drinking water. My latest effort has been unsalted pretzels.

Pretzels are a perfect snack, save one thing. I noted with alarm recently that eating just five regular pretzels saddles you with more than 20% of your recommended daily sodium intake. I can probably eat five pretzels in 60 seconds. So I bought some unsalted ones - 3% sodium. They're absolutely disgusting, at first. It's just like eating stale bread. But after awhile, they've grown on me a bit. I still crave the salt, but I can manage. Besides, when I start to snack, it's mostly because I'm ravenously hungry or because I simply enjoy the act of eating. In either case, even a less delicious pretzel will work. And I can still ingest 20% of my daily sodium if I choose. But I get to eat 33.3333 pretzels in the process.

Jack Frost nipping at your nose

The end of December is quickly approaching, which means that that exciting, enjoyable, reflective, depressingly warm and happy, occasionally cloying Christmas spirit is inevitably descending on the country. We bought a tree from Boy Scout Troop 466 last weekend and have been singing carols since Thanksgiving. With a fire crackling away next to a twinkling tree, it's easy to get lost in thought.

Don't give up, don't ever give up

Watching the ACC/Big Ten challenge on TV last night, I noticed that ESPN has designated this Jimmy V. week, after the late Jim Valvano. The former N.C. State basketball coach delivered one of the greatest, most moving speeches that I've ever heard at the 1993 ESPY awards, about a month before he died from cancer. I saw a few minutes too late that they had broadcast the speech at 7 o'clock yesterday. So during halftime of the Wake - Indiana game I watched it online on my roommate's Wii. My favorite part is when Valvano names the three things you should do everyday to get the most out of life: laugh, think, and cry.

Absolutely amazing speech. Written words don't do it justice, so just watch it on youtube instead. You can support cancer research through Jimmy V's memorial foundation here.

Get busy living or get busy dying

That quip is used to frame the relationship between Morgan Freeman’s Red and Tim Robbins’ Andy Dufresne in one of my favorite movies: The Shawshank Redemption. Red has been imprisoned for decades. Though he has learned to the play the system to his advantage- avoiding confrontation with the sadistic guards and using his role as “a man who knows how to get things” to maintain standing among fellow inmates- he does so with a sense of futility. Indeed, every ten years, when Red is up for parole, he smiles broadly and claims to be a reformed man, knowing that his request will inevitably be rejected.

Andy too, has been locked up for years. He knows what he must do to survive in jail, but never fully accepts this existence, clinging to the occasional shreds of normalcy available to himself and the other prisoners- beer, music, chess, posters of movie starlets. Ultimately, when prison life becomes unbearable, Andy’s line “get busy living or get busy dying” depicts the core contrast of the film: between his sense of hope and Red’s resignation.

After watching this movie the other day, it’s been on my mind a lot. The message, at root, is simple. Live life. Make the best of everything. When you get lemons, make lemonade. That we have so many clichéd ways of expressing the same thing reflects a sense of optimism that permeates our culture. My cell phone, in fact, has “Seize the Day” written on the main screen. The American Dream itself is infused with this sentiment- that with hard work and determination, anything is possible.

I’ve been trying, particularly recently, to approach things that bother me with this attitude; reminding myself that nothing improves without a little effort and that there is no reason to be dejected over circumstances within my power to change. It is, unfortunately, simpler to be Red than Andy – far easier to accept setbacks than to fight them, less effort to claim to take a positive outlook than to actually maintain one. Certainly something worthwhile to aim for, though.

Minny-soda

Seventh Place pedestrian boulevard is lined with a theater and several restaurants with outdoor seating. The night before I took this photo, I enjoyed a few unique beers and a delicious sandwich while sitting at the bar (alone) at Great Waters pub. It was awesome. In fact, combined with the weekly outdoor summer concerts at Mears Park and lunch at Pino's Pizzeria, that experience makes me think I could probably live in St. Paul, Minnesota. The presence of downtown skyways to avoid venturing outside in the winter is a little troubling, though.

On gratitude and stuffing

I can't remember exactly when Thanksgiving replaced Christmas as my favorite holiday. Sometime in the last decade, the allure of eating delicious foods began to outshine that of wrapped toys in my mind. Everyone is so happy, we get two days off of work, and I genuinely cannot think of anything I would rather feast on than mashed potatoes and stuffing.

Also, I really like the message of Thanksgiving. All holidays have a significance that runs deeper than our typical celebrations, but Thanksgiving particularly resonates with me. Maybe because I don't know much about the religious backgrounds of other holidays, or maybe because I'm a sucker for sentimentality.

Regardless, it is comforting, if a little selfish, to consider my own good fortune. Even when life sucks, many people are inevitably worse off and have far more reason to cry than I ever will. Acknowledging this doesn't always make me feel better, but it at least makes me feel a little silly about being dejected. It never hurts to keep the world in perspective: to be grateful for life's many blessings, both material and intangible, and to feel lucky to lead a happy, priviliged existence. So really, to me, Thanksgiving is an excuse to dwell on the reasons that life is great (homemade stuffing being one of many).

At the root of many glaciers

After a grueling 4 hour hike in Alaska's Kenai Fjords National Park, you can reach the Harding Icefield. The word "expansive" does not begin to do this place justice. It is a vast accumulation of unmelted snow, built up over millenia and the fuel behind hundreds of glaciers. Looking off into the distance, you can see nothing but mountaintops, surrounded by an endless plain of snow. If you looked hard enough, you could probably locate Russia too.

In a Christian nation...

The misguided prejudice of many people in this country astounds me. I have already made my case against Proposition 8's ban on gay marriage. But after reading this article, which presents gay marriage as a microcosm of a larger schism within the Republican party, I browsed some of its hundreds of reader comments. The article casts the fight over Prop 8 as reflecting a brewing contest between moderates and the religious right.

There certainly were several fundamentalist-sounding comments, quoting Bible passages to argue the uncouthness of homosexuality. But these people are not swayable. It is useless to tell them, as many have tried, that the Bible also teaches fierce opposition to many other things that are widely practiced today (and are overlooked or even accepted by society). More troubling are comments like this:

If i were gay I would push for civil unions and be happy with that. As long as we are a Christian nation the gay lifestyle is never going to be socially acceptable but that doesn't mean they should be mistreated either. Remember gays are treated much worse in Islamic and Hindu countries. And everyone can't always have everything that we want.

This is not a particularly hard-line stance, but it does reflect several unfortunate sentiments. First, it assumes that Christianity and homosexuality are mutually exclusive. Gay people can have religious beliefs too. Sure they don't necessarily spend their lives advocating for discrimination against their peers (which, sadly, many do). But actively working to worsen the lives of others is not a central tenet of any religion I've ever heard of.

Second, the idea that the United States is "a Christian nation" is misguided. The founders were, in fact, quite explicit about the separation of church and state. Religious freedom is written into the Bill of Rights. Yes, the large majority of people in America are Christians. But this should not have any influence on policy. On a related note, referencing mistreatment in "Islamic and Hindu countries" is also misleading. Many countries are run by theocratic principles, but their policies do not speak for entire faiths. The problems in these countries are often rooted in their fundamentalist dictators, whose human rights violations are abhorrent by any standard. Anti-gay sentiment is not an inherent reflection of strong religious beliefs; it is a result of bigotry.

Finally, I take issue with the statement "everyone can't always have everything that we want." I have always kind of hated this sentiment, ever since my dad used to play the Rolling Stones to "teach me and my siblings a lesson" about greed and humility. But this line implies that the asker is seeking something unreasonable. Gay people are not looking to change anyone's life but their own. They want the same privileges enjoyed by every other U.S. citizen. This is not the nagging request of a petulant child. It is the longing of a repressed minority for an equal shot at the American Dream - the same desire that has motivated civil rights movements throughout our history. That there are legitimate channels for this equality to be achieved speaks to the wonder of our country. That it has not yet been granted demonstrates just how far we have yet to go.

I or me

One of the most basic sociological concepts is that of the interplay of I vs. me - two aspects of the self that help define us. The I and the me are constantly interacting, and represent complimentary social forces that shape our lives. As an internalized form of people's perceived opinions, the me tells us how others think we should act. It helps us fit into set roles, such as "student" or "manager," and allows us to judge appropriate behavior in a variety of situations. The I, on the other hand, comes from inside. It is creative and impulsive, and lets us think independently.

The back and forth nature of this relationship factors into every decision that we make, both conscious and unconscious. In a meeting at work, our me may tell us that, as junior level employees, we should stay quiet and absorb our surroundings. But if we have a good idea, our I may convince us to speak up. On a less overt level, our me convinced us to wear professional clothing, even though our I would have been more comfortable in shorts and sandals. If we were to exist only as me's, we would be total conformists, with no unique traits. Conversely, if we were only I's, we would have no concept of what is socially accepted, and be as inept as infants or as dangerous as sociopaths. The different sides of our nature combine to make us the socially functional, yet unique individuals that we are.

It's interesting to look at decisions that I've made and consider the I and the me. Some of my greatest memories and my biggest regrets stem from brash decisions made against my better judgment and opportunities missed because of timidity or complacency. These concepts can help you make sense of other people's choices too. Of course the idea of the I and the me is an extreme oversimplification of the forces at play in our life, and it's not always a great way of analyzing things. But that's why I think sociology is so cool. You can apply so much of it to your everyday life without really having to buy into all of it at once.

Improvised without sheet music

I'd give a lot to be able to play piano like this.

If you look at his youtube profile, this guy has a lot of videos of his music posted. I've listened to several and he's very talented, but this is my favorite by far.

Something delicious

The chicken soup that I made for dinner last night (and am enjoying for lunch right now) is pretty tasty. It has an exotic, Caribbean kick to it. Here's the recipe:

1. Cook a couple chicken breasts on the side in boiling water. Once cooked, chop and set aside.
2. Meanwhile, chop the following vegetables into bite-sized pieces: 1 onion, 1 red bell pepper, 2 celery stalks, 2 carrots, 5 garlic cloves, ground or fresh ginger.
3. Sauté these vegetables in a soup pot with some canola oil for about 5 minutes.
4. Add ~8 cups chicken broth, 1 cup flaked coconut, 1 can corn, chopped up chicken. Bring to a boil, reduce heat and simmer for 30 mins.
5. Mix in 1 can coconut milk, Tabasco, coriander, allspice, chopped cilantro, juice of 2 limes, lime zest, salt, and pepper. Simmer for a few more minutes.

Star stuff

There's something inspiring about outer space. The idea that everyone and everything that I will ever know or see makes up a very small slice of life on Earth is profound enough. But to consider the tiny place that Earth occupies in our solar system, let alone the universe, is mind boggling. Space is vast. Every one of the stars in the sky is another sun, possibly circled by its own set of planets. Planets that might be inhabited by forms of life that we can't even begin to understand.

Seeking out these extrasolar planets is a difficult, time-consuming task, and the potential payoff is muted. Yet still, we search. It's that blind, hopeful exploration that is so appealing to me. Space travel carries powerful undertones of unification - venturing out into the dark unknown not under the flag of any one nation, but as humans.

Astronomers recently managed to photograph four of these planets for the first time, which is very, very cool. That leaves us no closer to zipping around, visiting distant places Star Trek-style, but it's still pretty exciting.

Fall in the capital, part 2

Colorful foliage and monuments from several weeks ago. D.C. is a great place.

Legalized discrimination

In the past week, I’ve been eager to soak up news coverage of the aftermath of the election- Obama’s transition process, possible candidates for the cabinet, and D.C. gearing up for inauguration day. This is an exciting time for the country and I’m looking forward to being a part of it. I am bothered, however, by the passage of Proposition 8 in California, which reverses a ruling by the state Supreme Court and bans gay marriage in the state’s constitution. This casts a pall over what has otherwise been an exhilarating several days.

It is a shame that gay marriage is an issue at all, but doubly upsetting that it’s now been banned in liberal, open-minded California. Barack Obama carried the state by a wide margin, so this cannot be blamed on right-wing fundamentalism. Instead, it reflects a troubling mainstream opposition to equality.

At root, perhaps, is the religious connotation that many people assign to marriage. Indeed, many couples get married in churches and view their union as a commitment before God. Should religious bodies wish to regulate for whom they will perform marital ceremonies, they certainly have this prerogative. But permitting gay marriage is not about forcing unwilling faiths to conduct weddings for homosexual couples in their churches. It is not about altering the curriculum of schools, or forcing a new ideology on straight people. Plain and simple, it is about allowing two people who are in love to solidify their relationship in a way that grants them joint legal rights and, culturally, implies a lifetime commitment to each other - same as marriage for a heterosexual couple.

Some sanctimoniously argue that gays should be allowed equal rights under the law, but that the idea of marriage between a man and a woman is sacred. But this ignores a big part of the issue by dehumanizing the discussion. People do not get married because they want visitation rights in the hospital or to fill out their taxes in a different way. These are necessary benefits of being in a long-term, committed relationship, but they do not spark the relationship itself. Couples get married because they are in love. They marry because they want to become a family and because they recognize how much fuller life is with a companion than it is alone. It should not matter if the people in question happen to be gay. How is it fair to deny anyone this happiness?

It is particularly heartbreaking to consider Proposition 8 in the context of the national election. The sense of hope and opportunity that Barack Obama represents rings quite hollow when juxtaposed with what happened in California. To favor a constitutional ban of gay marriage is to favor legalized discrimination. This position inherently casts a group of people as second-class citizens and legitimizes a sense of bigotry that this country has long struggled to overcome.

Still, caught up in the spirit of Obama’s victory, I am confident that this ban will eventually be overturned. A younger, more tolerant generation is coming of age, and I cannot believe that such blatant discrimination will persist in America, purportedly the Land of the Free, forever. So while there is reason to be hopeful, for now I am just very, very sad.

Mr. President-Elect

The gravity of this moment took awhile to sink in. I don't know why. I cried five times yesterday, but not during Obama's acceptance speech.

Maybe because part of me had already begun to assume that Obama would win in the days leading up to the election. Although I tried not to let myself become overconfident, it was hard not to feel good about his chances when Nate Silver's predictions were so promising (and accurate, it turns out). Maybe the moment of exhilartion had passed, when Fox called Ohio. Or maybe I had simply exhausted my capacity for emotional displays by 11pm, having teared up while waiting in line to vote, in my car, and at work.

Obama's election is a huge milestone for our country. The symbolism of it alone is enough to inspire goodwill domestically and abroad. I really hope that he is able to capitalize on this and make some substantive progress. I know this won't be easy- Bush is leaving the country in a precarious place. But if the marathon campaign has done anything, it has filled me with confidence in Obama-the-candidate's ability to make steady, good decisions under pressure and be an inspiring leader. I am fervently hopeful that, as president, he will continue to do the same. And if this is the case, the symbolic significance of his win last night is only the beginning of all the good that Barack Obama will do for our nation and the world.

And for the record, I cried on the way to work this morning.

Yo voté

D.C. polling places open at 7am, so at 6:07, I crawled out of bed, showered, and put on a blue shirt, using my Barack Obama tshirt as an undershirt, Superman style. Around 6:55, my roommates and I walked to our polling location, a nearby school, English muffins in hand. We saw some people standing on the street corner a block away, but followed signs to the entrance. Because of the angle of the building, we did not see until we got up close to the door the massive line. It stretched from the door all the way down the length of the school, and then turned the corner and circled around the block until it reached the street corner we had seen from a distance.

We walked towards that corner, passing everyone in line along the way. Some were very old, leaning on canes and perched on folding chairs. Others had very young children, clutching to their parents' hands or running around on the playground. There were people like me, dressed for work, and young people who looked like they had rolled out of bed and into line. The mood was excited. Many were chatting with those next to them in line. Others called out to neighbors and friends as they passed by to get in line (or, even better, on their way out, "I Voted" stickers proudly displayed).

The entire experience was very moving and I found it very difficult to keep myself from crying (gave in. twice). Elections board volunteers were on hand to ensure that first time DC voters understood the ballot and to periodically shuttle senior citizens to the front of the line. Despite the massive wait, things moved along very efficiently. And at 8:36 am, vaguely trembling and trying to avoid tearing up for the third time of the morning, I cast my vote for Barack Obama for president.

Please vote today.

Not doing my part

I regret not volunteering to help out with the campaign. Although I've been an Obama fan since I read his first book, long before he declared his candidacy for president, I've hesitated to volunteer. Mostly I just didn't want to knock on doors and make cold calls. But as I've read more and more accounts of canvassing, I start to think that I would have actually enjoyed it.

This man in North Carolina certainly got a lot out of it. He too was skeptical at first, but ended up volunteering again:

We knocked on every door we could find and checked off every name on our list. We did our job, but Obama may not have been the one who got the most out of the day's work.

I learned in just those three hours that this election is not about what we think of as the "big things." It's not about taxes. I'm pretty sure mine are going to go up no matter who is elected. It's not about foreign policy. I think we'll figure out a way to get out of Iraq and Afghanistan no matter which party controls the White House, mostly because the people who live there don't want us there anymore. I don't see either of the candidates as having all the answers.

I've learned that this election is about the heart of America. It's about the young people who are losing hope and the old people who have been forgotten. It's about those who have worked all their lives and never fully realized the promise of America, but see that promise for their grandchildren in Barack Obama. The poor see a chance, when they often have few. I saw hope in the eyes and faces in those doorways.

My wife and I went out last weekend to knock on more doors. But this time, not because it was her idea. I don't know what it's going to do for the Obama campaign, but it's doing a lot for me.

That is the appeal of Barack Obama. No politician will make everyone happy with his or her stances on the issues. But someone who inspires people on this level, who makes them feel confident that everything will be ok even when circumstances are grim, and who gets people excited and hopeful about their future and their place in this country- that is someone I want in the White House. I've known this all along, but I wish I'd figured out sooner what I was willing to do to help.

It was a graveyard smash

I was working in the lab late one night, when my eyes beheld an eerie sight. For my monster from his slab, began to rise. And suddenly, to my surprise...

After many, many switchbacks

This tiny village sits high up in the Julian Alps of Slovenia. To reach this place above some clouds, we drove along a very narrow road with lots of steep switchbacks. Sometimes taking the wrong turn and getting off the highway works out pretty nicely.

Yearning for patriotism

A sense of camaraderie is something I have always valued. Growing up, I loved team-based, field-day-style relay races both because they were fun and because of the rewarding feeling of accomplishing something together. (I still love these types of games, and will readily challenge anyone to a dizzy bat race). On a national level, I think many people feel the same way. Who doesn't yearn for an excuse to exhibit his or her latent patriotism?

Moments of marked significance fill our country's history. Many are quite controversial, but some of those remembered most fondly evoke powerful feelings of hope and unity. Looking at pictures like this makes me long to be celebrating V-J Day in Times Square. The swelling feeling of shared exhilaration and relief would, I think, be overwhelming. Or what about being present as Martin Luther King Jr. delivered his "I Have a Dream" speech on the Mall? Or chucking British goods overboard at the Boston Tea Party? Or experiencing the tension of the space race and watching Neil Armstrong step onto the moon? All of these moments were set against the backdrop of hardship- World War II, segregation, the Revolutionary War, the Cold War- yet all symbolize a united effort to overcome. This is the feeling that I long for so much.

Should Barack Obama win next week's election, it is my hope that history will view that moment in the same glowing light. McCain supporters may not be immediately moved to celebration. But an Obama presidency would inherently represent a huge dent to racism and foster lofty aspirations in a new generation of minority children. His popularity abroad would automatically improve our standing in the world. And his pragmatic, reasonable approach would hopefully inspire a new breed of goal-focused, bipartisan political decency. With all these factors working in his favor outside of his policies, I find it hard to believe that a President Obama would not win widespread respect.

A moment is approaching. You can hear it when Obama speaks and see it in the faces of his supporters and volunteers. Accounts of early voting in many states tell of long lines and eager people. My favorite depicts the significance of this election to a multi-generational black family in Indiana. I might be wrong, but I think this is going to be a very, very big deal. And, frankly, to be a part of it makes my eyes tear up.

Windbag-ing welcome

My friend Maggie (n.s.) and I bonded initially over a bag of M&M's and a silly game called Mafia. Since then, she has become one of my closest friends for good reason. We share many interests, including delicious food and politics, which frequently leads to long-winded conversations. Maggie has that rare combination of intelligence, motivation, and exceptional people skills, and I have no doubt that she is going to do something great in life. For now, she's helping homeless people in Brooklyn. You can read all about her adventure here.

A good time for thinking

Sometimes I like to turn off the radio in my car and just listen to the engine hum as I accelerate. The noise created by the wind and the wheels on the pavement is at once more pronounced and more subtle without the competing din of radio music. I think there's something oddly therapeutic about the muted sound of the road.

Well-rounded nerdiness

I generally look back at my college experience as unequivocably positive. From the beginning, I kept a good circle of friends. The members of it changed over time, but it has always been a supportive, fun group of people. I achieved marked success as a student leader and won an award (earning a massive 50 cent raise) at my on-campus job. Academically, I always maintained a solid GPA (in fact missing graduating with honors by a fraction of a point, which I blame on a pair of sinister study abroad professors and will perhaps complain about some other time). College was very, very good to me.

Despite this, I find that I have some regrets. As I was watching the Terps win national championships and familiarizing myself with the College Park bar scene, I forgot to be intellectually curious. Reading, something I loved growing up, became a rare chore and studying, something I did the night before a big exam. Every semester, I picked classes that I knew were easy, assuring myself that I would like them for this reason, no matter if the topic was boring. Even in interesting classes, I expended minimal effort. And year after year, I got A's and learned little.

This has not particularly hurt my career, but, in retrospect, it damages my sense of self-worth. My friend Maggie recently told me about her visit with a professor - comparing thoughts on politics, current events, and books they'd read. He obviously thought highly of her as a student and now respects her as an intelligent adult- on some levels, a peer.

I'm envious of this relationship both because it sounds rewarding to discuss the world with someone brilliant and because I used to have that rapport with my teachers as well. In high school, I was an engaged student. I would participate often in class and occasionally ate lunch with my Spanish teacher. They recognized my maturity and intellectual curiosity and treated me differently because of it.

In college, I allowed this to fade. It would be easy to blame this on large lecture classes, but that's not the cause. I took two seminar classes with the same professor that Maggie visited. Like her, I think he's brilliant and would love to talk to him and pick his brain. But he probably doesn't remember my name. And it's because I didn't prepare for class by reading, never had anything meaningful to contribute to group discussions, and regularly raced out of the room once class was over, never staying to chat or visiting office hours.

Granted, I was usually leaving class to go to a club meeting or hang out with my friends- all things that I really enjoyed about my time at Maryland. The value of the leadership skills I developed and the friendships I made in college is boundless. My memories are roundly positive. But as I get older and more entrenched in life as a "grown up," I'm starting to regret lost opportunities like this.

Which is partially why I now try to read about as regularly as anything else and educate myself about both current events and history, since they're so frequently connected. When I hear of an old name or event in the news that I recognize but know nothing about, I make a note to look it up on wikipedia. Kind of lame, yes. But I feel better for trying again.

Buckets of love

Another cool place I've been: Korcula, an island off the Adriatic coast of Croatia. European tourists love Croatia, because it's beautiful. For some reason Americans have been slow to catch on. This place is absolutely idyllic. And they serve mixed drinks in sand pails with colorful straws, which certainly doesn't hurt.

Hail alma mater

This weekend marks homecoming at Maryland. Since I still live in the area and have season tickets to the football games, homecoming is not particularly novel in any way for me. But the atmosphere will be energetic, and hopefully I'll get to spend time with some friends who I haven't seen in awhile.

I volunteer for a group called the Young Alumni Committee. It tries to emphasize the importance of recent grads to the success of the Alumni Association, and works to build stronger connections between these young alums and the university. Tonight we have an event that I planned- the Young Alumni Homecoming Kickoff. I'm excited to see how it goes - and a little nervous. I hope that it works out well. Not just because I planned it, but because I have a vested interest in bettering UM.

Creating a strong bond with recent graduates will hopefully lead to a lasting relationship between these alums and the university as they get older. This is one of those big picture things that will take time to develop. I'm impatient to see the results, and to relish the subsequent sense of accomplishment. For now, though, I'll be happy with decent attendance, people having fun, and not screwing up my introductory remarks. The open bar should help with all of the above.

Where Gaston tries to kill the Beast

In the category of "cool places I've been" is the top of this castle in Segovia, Spain. Spanish monarchs used to live here. And then Disney used it as the model for the animated castle in Beauty and the Beast.

Congressional donkeys

As October winds down, it's difficult to think of anything but politics. I've been paying pretty close attention to the Senate races this election cycle and, in a lot of ways, I'm torn.

On one hand, I am a young Democrat. I grew up with Clinton in office, but did not really develop political awareness until Bush. So from the time I knew anything substantial about the world until 2006 (with a brief blip earlier in the decade), Republicans controlled both chambers of Congress and the presidency. Needless to say, I was rooting very, very hard for legislative Democrats in 2006. Now, in 2008, with the prospect of electing a Democratic president and widening the margins in Congress, part (most?) of me wants to see this trend continue. It would be great to see what Obama could do, particularly with a filibuster-proof majority in the Senate.

Two things, however, give me pause. For one, our country, for whatever reason, is a mess right now. We are fighting two bleak-looking wars and most people warn that the rotten economy is going to take awhile to get better. No matter the cause of these disasters, the next president is going to have to be very careful when making tough decisions about resolving these issues. The quick, popular solutions may not be the smart ones. I'd like to think that Obama will take a measured approach, but with a Democratic congress at his back, it may be easy to get caught up in partisanship. Sometimes having dissenting viewpoints (from a strong Republican congressional presence) is the only way to craft thoughtful policy.

Democrats need to tread lightly. A national crisis doesn't have to be a political disaster. FDR is remembered fondly for doing the best he could to guide the country through the Depression. But if the economy continues to worsen and the party in power looks hapless, a wave of Republican opportunists will be waiting to pounce, just as Democrats did on the Iraq war in 2006.

This relates to my second reservation about a strong congressional majority. A lot of the politicians that lose out in these waves are the genuine good guys. Decent, moderate people, willing to reach across the aisle to get things done. Case in point: Lincoln Chafee lost Rhode Island in '06, and it appears Gordon Smith may lose in Oregon this year. And although some polls suggest they would be in danger in a Democratic wave, the nasty ones (like Mitch McConnell and Saxby Chambliss) are not the ones knocked from power. We need more pragmatic, independent-minded legislators in both parties. Not fewer.

For me, this point is somewhat moot. I live in DC, and therefore am not represented in Congress with a vote. (Just a Delegate, Eleanor Holmes-Norton, who is awesome). Still, I'll be watching the elections with a great deal of excitement. And just a little trepidation.

sjw125

I've learned a lot from my friend Sarah. Casting aside various feats of collegiate beer consumption, perhaps most important is her belief that being informed about the world is both a part of everyone's civic duty and a prerequisite to voicing an opinion. She is one of the most intelligent people I know and you can find musings about her life in Texas here.

Fall in the capital

On the continuing theme of why I love fall (and DC) so much, here are some photographic reasons. The leaves weren't as colorful as I thought they'd be, so another excursion might be forthcoming.

We need more Colin Powells

Colin Powell is a great man.

Most people already have a great deal of respect for him. The reasons for this esteem span the spectrum from his years of military service (including a very tightly-planned Gulf War) to his resignation after 4 years as Secretary of State, seen by many as a silent protest of the reckless policies of the Bush administration. I have always appreciated Powell's moderation; his endorsement of Barack Obama this weekend further cements his lofty position in my mind.

It is not so much the fact that he endorsed Obama, though this alone demonstrates a willingness to think in an independent, non-partisan way, but rather his eloquent reasoning behind the decision that impresses me so greatly. Colin Powell is a Republican who understands the peril of making this election about some constructed vision of Americana, of casting Muslims, intellectuals, people who live in blue states, and Barack Obama as dangerous outsiders. All of these people, marginalized by the McCain campaign and subjected to the jeering hatred of the people at his rallies, are Americans. They are just as American as "Joe the Plumber" and it tears at the foundation of our country to insist otherwise.

My favorite part of Powell's endorsement speech is this:

"Is there something wrong with being a Muslim in this country? The answer's no. That's not America. Is there something wrong with a seven-year-old Muslim-American kid believing he or she could be president? Yet I have heard senior members of my own party drop the suggestion that he is a Muslim and might be associated with terrorists. This is not the way we should be doing it in America."

You should watch it- he's an excellent speaker. He goes on to describe a touching photo of a (Muslim) mother draped over the grave of her son, a decorated soldier. We're all Americans. Colin Powell gets it. I know that there are more Republicans like this. Please stand up to your party.

Some simple pleasures

More things that make me happy:

• Fridays
• Chipotle for lunch for the second time this week
• My alumni association mug that says "Terpnation" on it but is otherwise all black... until you pour in a hot beverage

Political decency... and apples

Last night Barack Obama and John McCain gave speeches at the Alfred Smith Memorial Dinner, a charity fundraiser in New York. I had never heard of the event, but it is apparently a long-standing tradition that presidential candidates attend (along with a who's who list of politcal figures) and "roast" each other. It was really funny, and done in good spirits also. Seeing Obama and McCain laughing together was a refreshing change from the bitter campaigning. It's unfortunate that politics can't be lighthearted and good natured more often.

Part one of McCain's speech and the rest of it. Most of Obama's speech and his closing remarks. Watch them, it'll make you feel good.

Something else that makes me feel good: fall. Can you envision anything more delicious than picking a crisp apple from a tree with colorful leaves? Me either.

Grumpy old man

The last presidential debate was held last night, at Hofstra University in New York. Bob Schieffer (a grandfatherly man who is, for lack of a better word, kind of huggable) was the moderator. I watched pretty closely, and thought Obama did a decent job repelling McCain's attacks. I was kind of surprised, however, by the post-debate coverage, and by the online punditry this morning. Maybe it has something to do with the sites I choose to read, but McCain's performance was pretty universally panned.

Watching these debates, I am predisposed to conclude that Obama wins each time because I believe in what he says. Last night I thought that McCain was cranky seeming. He kept interrupting and grimaced in some very unappealing ways. But I got the sense that he was getting his point across relatively effectively. Following the debate, I still would have argued that Obama won, but I assumed that McCain's aggressiveness would be better received, at least by those rooting for him. Apparently the number of people who fall into that category is increasingly small.

It comforts me to read opinions like Andrew Sullivan's. Conservatives who have rational backings to their views. People like this see Sarah Palin as a farce - scion of a dying neocon contingent of Bush's Republican party. They recognize the danger of stirring up mob-like, hateful emotions by using false, angry rhetoric. Overarchingly, reasonable people like this acknowledge the virtue of decency. They know that policy and character are not inextricably linked, that there are assholes who are Democrats and Republicans alike, and, above all else, that blind partisanship serves no one.

Far too often people, myself included, forget this. John McCain's ornery negativity plays right into this idea. Luckily, I believe that Barack Obama gets it. And that, more than the D next to his name, is why I think he'll make such a fantastic president.

On my way

I'm wary of blogs.

I don't fully understand the technology behind them and I realize that, in this age of electronic big brother, nothing posted to the internet is ever truly private. Blogs are frequently guilty of excessive whining, ranting, and political partisanship. Too often blogs take on the shape of public diaries- chattering, stream of consciousness style writing that is difficult and uninteresting to read. (Everyone needs an outlet, but part of the point of making a blog public is to post material that others may get something out of.) Yet I like blogs. I spend a lot of time reading them and, hopefully, will enjoy writing one as well.

So I'll give this a shot. Partially because I need something to fill the slow stretches at work, but also because I am occasionally struck by the urge to share my thoughts. And this seems like a good platform from which to do that. I make no promises about the quality of my writing, and don't particularly expect that anyone will be interested in reading my posts. Still, I'll do my best to not ramble.

I hope to be able to use each post as a snapshot of sorts. A picture of my life and how it's affected by the world around me at any given point in time. I don't know who Carl Sandburg was, but he apparently once said something that I like enough to stick at the bottom of the page: "I don't know where I'm going, but I'm on my way." That is how I plan on treating this blog (and, ideally, my life). So if you're interested in this particular adventure, welcome.