post hiatus

First and foremost, here is an apology to any who might have checked this blog over the past three months, only to find no new updates. Not even a single sentence. As I returned to Georgia (and later North Carolina) I thought I would have time to briefly share my experiences. ‘Notes from the Campaign Trail’ or something to that effect. It quickly became apparent, however, that my life was no longer my own. I often worked 17 to 18 hour days. How difficult was it to spare ten minutes and write a short blurb? Trust me when I say that it was, well, nigh impossible. When I did have ten minutes I chose to instead walk down the Raleigh streets to the corner coffee shop and get my caffeine fix. Blame my coffee addiction.

So obviously I have returned from my campaign adventures. As I cast my memory over the past five months I find it difficult to summarize my experiences. Friends, professors and family have asked me what it was like to work on a political campaign. To them I offer, “It was amazing. Exhausting, intense, challenging. The toughest five months of my life. Exhilarating. Rewarding.” Yet none of these words capture what it was like to endure this campaign. I’ve set out to write a series of nonfiction essays about my experiences and the people I met along the way. Maybe in doing so I’ll be able to better share the flavors and textures, the vignettes and anecdotes, the trials and victories. For now let me say that I never expected to be as intensely consumed by something as I was with the campaign. A fellow field organizer, Tawny, made a comment back in July that has stuck with me: “You kinda have to sell your soul for awhile.” Yeah right, I thought at the time. Like I would ever reach that stage.

Well, I did. I have no regrets and am currently processing all that took place over the course of summer and fall. I recognize that I’m a stronger, bolder person, an accomplished leader. Yet I’ve also learned my weaknesses in leadership and the pitfalls of all-consuming dedication. While I proved to myself that I could stretch my limits, I also discovered where limits were nonnegotiable. More than anything, it feels good to know that I made a concrete difference. North Carolina won by a little over 13,000 votes. It was close; every vote counted. And to have been a part of that– flipping the state, empowering individuals, helping to elect our next president– is truly amazing. Take that, nihilism. People can make a difference with their efforts and lives. The human spirit is resilient and wants to believe in hope.

The night of November 4 was a triumphant one, and a night I’ll never forget. But it is also necessary for this country to realize that ‘change’ will not come quickly or easily. As President-Elect Barack Obama said the day following Election Day, “Now the real work begins.” When you are as deep as this country is right now, a lot of hard work is required to progress in a different, better direction. I have faith that we will get there, but it will be an arduous journey.

For now, I’m resting. Processing. I plan to catch up on reading. Now that I have time to write again, I’ll post periodic entries about my readings, reflections and future travels. Keep checking in every so often if you so choose. I promise I won’t have another hiatus for a long while. I’ll even brew my own coffee. Because, well, those ten-minute coffee excursions add up.

 

Am I really doing this again?

(Originally written August 15)

I’m back in Georgia—yes, doing the same work as before. If someone had asked me six months ago what I would be doing after college, I never would have thought I would be working on a political campaign. Was not even on my radar. But I’m here, ready to see this election to its completion. The hours will increase, as will the exhaustion and pressure. Every now and then I stop and wonder why I agreed to stay on, particularly since it wasn’t planned. And I remind myself of how historic this campaign truly is. Sometimes the unexpected – the unplanned – are the best experiences.

I had to leave Georgia to attend a couple weddings and retrieve my car. And on this past Monday night, I left Vancouver in my trusty Honda Accord and drove across the country to Atlanta. I arrived yesterday afternoon, bone-achingly tired but happy to dive back into work.

There isn’t much more to write for now. I do need to share about the post I promised over three weeks ago. On the second to last day of my six weeks in Georgia, I returned to Mellow Mushroom to talk with Curt. I was skeptical he would change his mind about the voting process, but I had to check once more before I flew home to Washington. After chatting awhile, he finally shook his head as if to say “I can’t believe I’m doing this” and told me, “Fine- give me the damn form.” Curt registered to vote. And I know that that would have never happened had Matie and I not worked on building a relationship over the preceding six weeks. Out of all the moments of my fellowship in Georgia, watching Curt register was the highlight of my entire trip. So there it is: closure for those who have been following his story.

 

Political boot camp

I used to run cross-country, and one of the goals my team had was to “leave your guts on the field.” Sometimes this was quite literal as runners crossed the finish line and immediately threw up whatever was unfortunate enough to be in their stomachs. You give your everything in such a race, and by the finish, your body is exhausted to the point of utter collapse, your brain fried after pre-race visualization and gritty, mental determination of completing the 5K. Complete body-and-mind fatigue.

That how I feel right now. The training for the Obama Fellowship was not a joke. Up at six each morning and not getting sleep before midnight, the past three days have been filled with intensive organizing training, relationship and team building, voter registration, and planning. It was a political version of boot camp. And this is just the beginning. Despite the exhaustion, the entire weekend has been exciting. It’s both inspiring and energizing to sit in an auditorium with 200+ volunteers, all passionate and committed to the same thing. Despite the vast differences of backgrounds, life experiences, personalities, and leadership styles, everyone involved is united behind a common purpose, driven by a common goal and hope.

I must say that my adventure in Georgia had a rather rocky start. To provide a little flavor of my first 48 hours…Because I flew out of Seattle, I had to leave at 2 a.m. to get to the airport in time for my early EARLY morning flight. I discovered at check-in that my suitcase was seven pounds too heavy (despite having checked the weight at my house earlier and being fine), so out came one of my books, conditioner, and some clothes. Once I actually arrived in Atlanta, I found MARTA (Atlanta’s rail system…think Portland’s MAX but more confusing, crowded, and the longest voice-speaker announcements in the history of public transportation) and waited for over an hour for my host mom to pick me up. I felt more than a little conspicuous with my luggage and crazy-pale Pacific Northwest skin sitting on the curb at an Atlanta train station. I finally got to my host’s home – her name is Millie – and we sat on her deck and ate oranges from the nearby international produce market. Travel-weary, I went to set my alarm on my phone that night and observed that not only was my battery low but my phone charger had broken en route to Atlanta. Organizer’s nightmare right there. Your phone is your best friend. Mine was dying, and I had no car to quickly drive to pick up a new charger. And the next day was the first of training. Twelve full hours, 7 sessions of new information. Overwhelmed is a gross understatement.

However, the people make it all worth it. During voter registration on the second day, one of my teammates and I encountered a street musician at Piedmont Park, whose entire face lit up when he learned that, despite his prior felony, he was able to vote. People with prior convictions are able to vote in Georgia as long as they have completed their parole and any fines/comm. service, but the state does not advertise that fact. The state tries to soft pedal this information, which is wrong on so many levels. The musician believed that he was not allowed to vote for several more years. It was rewarding to watch him fill out his voter registration form as one of his civic rights was returned to him. Episodes like that reinforce the importance of what I’m doing here in Georgia and make the long days and fried brain cells worth it.

So many other stories happened the past three days, but more work is waiting to be done. Peace out.