Sometimes, We Work in Progress

I can remember in 2004 the day after election. I was two days removed from my 18th birthday, but every room I went into felt like a vacuum. The air had been sucked out of the spaces I was in. The thought of "FOUR MORE YEARS! FOUR MORE YEARS!" was a cobweb in every corner, hanging heavy and low and clouding anything I was trying to do. When I turned 18 on November 5th, 2004, I went through a period of feeling I had been personally robbed. It was hampered by the celebration of Cheyenne, Wyoming, reveling in the stench of Bush/Cheney, the apathy of the few like minded punk rock friends, and the sullen depression of the even fewer passionate leftists around me. (You are such a good writer Dylan, very descriptive and poetic! KRF) But then there came resolve. Weeks after, we dug ourselves out of the rubble, and I dusted off those webs and thought long and hard about 2008—far removed from high school, steeped into higher education and holding hope on the horizon. (Good alliteration KRF)During the Democratic National Convention in 2004 I had watched Barack Obama speak to the ravenous hounds of discontent, and I watched him cull them. I watched him rationalize their pain and fear and dissent and rebuild it into hope and resolve. (i love the way you describe the Obama effect. it's on point and totally explains why he is the president elect now. AN) (Word KRF) My ears warmed to his words hugging my thawing cynicism. 

Now, here we are, hanging with bated breath. I no longer have this notion of personal anything. Right now, I am surrounded by friends and peers who share this same sense of communal betterment. The air is buzzed with nerves as we are young and huddled and unconstrained about those things. We all once felt like this wasn't our thing. I think, in some way, every generation has that sense; that no matter how hard you try you will never be in power until age makes you relevant. On the eve of being 22, four years removed from the gut-check; years after the start of war and recession; months from the primary; days from late rallies, interviews and polls, we are on the verge of some sort of awakening. As it stands right now the major news organizations are looking at an Obama presidency. The polls are closing, the east coast rolling in like a tumble weed, and the talking heads are smashing (pumpkins) and gnashing marbled words of blue states and red states. Up in the air is Florida, Pennsylvania, Indiana, Ohio and others. They are dangling and dancing in this ethereal babble like snowflakes caught in a gust. And everyone that has been rooting one way or the other is waiting—tongue out—to catch those flakes. 2004 didn't have that same urgency. It had a sense of entitlement on both sides, more of a sense of polarized bitterness even. (polarized bitterness is a really good way to describe this KRF) This election has brought those overtones, but via the commercials and rhetoric. That, though, has underpinned the worst of our society; that rhetoric stoked sense of racism, classicism, and McCarthyism. Michelle Bachmann's words on "Anti-American" ideals seeping into the Senate and House—and citing Obama as the primary source—allowed people to pick those scabbed over wounds on both sides. (Bachmann as McCarthy is a great way to give a current event  gravity and historical context. AN) Still though, it feels like the bitterness has been between pundits and ralliers, not the everyman as it was four years ago. But maybe that was the condition of Wyoming and my personal feelings. Maybe that's just a condition of being 17 and hypersensitive.

Now the media has broken down the microcosm. What was once a country is now a vector graphic. What was once a state is now juice for the news. What was once a community is a commodity. This is not a condition of the election, but rather a work of the machine. (*) We have moved into ultra convenience and intense talking points. If we can boil these portions of information into smaller and smaller chunks we can manage it more. A gunshot becomes a scrolling ticker. This election has been brought to you by Coca-Cola (my cynicism, no matter how much my heart grows, will remain in someway). The beauty of this election though is that Obama was not bought by interest. He was financed by the people—even though I regret him breaking his promise on public financing—that's something. His candidacy will not be at the beck and call of the private interest of corporations. He was funded by us for us to help  (great statement! AN).  As the electoral count keeps rising for him my resolve becomes a little bit more solid. My spine is thicker with each passing minute.

I can't tell from this moment who will be the president tomorrow morning. I can't put myself out on that limb without the fear of it snapping and me falling perilously to some greater void. I can say that over the past four years things emerged inside me that I had long thought dulled. I cannot and will not push myself into blind optimism, but I cannot and will not push myself off a cliff. The rationale of people is impossible to forecast. All that can happen is collectively keeping our head up. I cannot and will not allow myself to stop hoping, no matter what the outcome of this unpredictable event is. (i really appreciate how personal this piece is, Dylan. I think your experiences are fairly universal among those of us who were just a little too young to vote last time around. AN) (I also really appreciate this because it is pretty close to everything I wish I knew how to put down in words. You're here for the little people like me to look up to KRF)

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