Iapos;m in Reno, head-numb and happy, with Natalie and Xander lying on the beds of our Vagabond Inn getaway home. We canvassed today, knocking on the doors of the fiercely undecided and the politically exhausted--doing our best to be smiling, chipper symbols of "Barack Obamaapos;s Campaign for Change". This is the big one, and we all know it, and everybody we talk to does. Even the people who try to convince me heapos;s actually a communist or Arab or whatever--they feel in their bones that this election is a supercritical moment of our national history, and whatever my doubts and concerns, my shaky handed instincts of radical leftism, I will not sit this one out on the sidelines. There are 16 days until this election happens, and for that time, there is nothing I care about more than getting this man--call him "the new FDR--and Joe Biden elected. So I have organized phonebanks in the co-ops, today I am in Reno, and during the last days of it all I will likely be in North Carolina, knocking on doors and� helping to make it happen.
I have been well; flush with affection and warmth for those around me, consumed by the weekly crises and passions that inevitably arise, constantly working and learning and growing in my job at Breakthrough and as house manager, unbelievably lucky gradually treading into a self with more confidence and less inhibiting anxieties. There is a tremendous amount of work to do; midterms on economic justice and energy systems next week, a research project on paying off the US�debt to China by buying them clean energy infrastructure, progress on the toolkits Iapos;m helping Breakthrough with (viewable at campusinpower.org). On November 20th, I turn 21, and Iapos;m starting to feel really old--not as in "my knees are creaky" but that my experiences of high school feel very very long ago, and yet still so vivid and emotionally relevant and powerful in my life. As I go further and further down these paths I have chosen, the whole body of my history feels unspeakably huge, like it will be too big to ever share with anybody else I meet now, like it is a novel I can never give to anybody else to read. Which calls into question the validity or importance of the book in the first palace. Iapos;m getting bleary, my feet are achy, and I think that is all keith wrote.
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