On certain Sundays in November

I've always tried to make this blog uplifting and positive - tried not to over dramatize or be inappropriately introspective. November weekends have been filled with a trip to Chicago to see Patrick, a "Campo 02" reunion here in DC with Liz, Ali, V, and Dill, and Ben and Leila's wedding. All fun, all worthy of separate posts detailing the happenings.

I'm feeling that recounting how great something was - while real and true - feels fake. Or at least disingenuous.

And in the same vein, I don't want to post about what is really going on. It's too personal, too much to know that it's all out there for anyone to read. It's not that I'm ashamed or unwilling to discuss these things, but to have no control over who is reading it and when requires more of a comfort level than I'm ready for. Too much vulnerability.

So I'm not really sure when I'll be blogging again. I'm not sure when it will feel okay to write about the good things and not feel like an impostor who is not lending equal time to the unspeakable. I hate duplicity. And right now that is what blogging feels like.

Please be patient with me. I like having a chronicle, but perhaps my inability to write - my silence - speaks loudest about this time in my life.

So truth is...

in a certain feeling of permanence that presses around the moment. They are ordinary people, after all. For a time they had entered the world of the newspaper statistic; a world where any measure you took to feel better was temporary, at best, but that was over. This is permanent. It must be.

Reflections on Election Day - Past and Present

Of the many things Election Day 2008 brought with it, one aspect I was unprepared for was the flood of memories from Election Day 2006. I was in the suburbs of Chicago campaigning for Pete Roskam. I understand why people get addicted to campaigns. What a rush! What a feeling of community - of working TOWARDS something so tangible and with a hard deadline. You work very very hard and play harder. I understand the relief of a campaign being over. No more 16 hour days, no more emotional stress, no more 4 hours of sleep, no more living off of coffee, cigarettes, dunkin donuts, and papa johns. Campaigning is terrible for ones health. The funny thing (and this is true of many things in life I think) is by the time the trail bends around again two years later, you've forgotten all the awful things about it and only remember the great things. Hence, campaign addiction.

On Election Night 2006 I was in St. Charles, IL with Denny and all the staff. We knew it was going to be bad. Very bad. We knew we were done. I think there was still SOME hope though. It's funny how you hold out hope. I remember watching the results come in from the "war room" upstairs at the hotel. We lost the House and therefore our jobs in the leadership office. And yet, Denny won his district again so... the locals were celebrating at his victory party. Surreal! Kate and I had some laughs that night! There were these balloon towers in the lobby for the event and Chris grabs a whole huge balloon tower and is like... "The balloons are coming with me. I don't care what anyone says. I'm taking the balloon tower." Lots of drowning of sorrows in the hotel bar after the party and then later in the suite upstairs. Surprisingly, I feel a strong sense of nostalgia when I think about that night. Something I think only DC people who "get it" can understand. Then waking up the next morning, packing up, heading to the airport. Everyone very quiet, very melancholy. I have this picture of Shea and I at the airport faking a thumbs up with these totally downtrodden looks on our faces.

Fast forward to Election Day 2008. Different, obviously, because of the excitement (or dread as the case may be) for the Presidential election. It took me literally 8 minutes to vote from when I walked up to the precinct to when I left. Record time I think. Last night QB, Beth, David and I grabbed drinks at the St. Regis then headed over to the RNC party at the Capitol Hilton. Yale sang the National Anthem! And what to say of the mood? Hmm. The mood. It was resigned, I think. Resigned is the best word for it. Not sure what else to say on that front.

It was still pretty fun, though! Saw a ton of people from over the years and from a bunch of different offices. This town is SMALL. They announced Mr. Obama's victory.
I got teary, I'll admit. Not so much over the crushing defeat of Senator McCain, but because it signaled - truly signaled - the beginning of the end. David and I looked at each other and embraced.