It happened. I was true to my word when I said that by my next blog post, Barack Obama would be our president-elect. He's done what was considered impossible less than half a century ago. I expected it to happen, but I certainly did not expect such a landslide and confirmation so early in the evening. The polls in the West coast had barely closed when he was declared the winner. I was watching Indecision 2008 on Comedy Central with Marissa and Josh when Jon Stewart broke the news around 11pm. We were in shock. We weren't sure if he was joking or not but soon we were jumping and hugging with rapturous joy. It was an amazing feeling, the culmination of months of hoping. I joined the campaign late in the game, but I still feel like I accomplished so much, making calls from Obama's NY office on Monday and Tuesday night to make sure people were getting out to vote. I can't stop smiling every time I think about it. I get chills and a swelling of pride that I am witness to this historic time in the world. It really feels as though a dark shroud has been lifted.
Now comes the really hard part. As soon as he takes office, we have to put aside our idolatry for the man and really demand the change he has been promising. It bothers me that people seem to think of Obama as the second coming of Christ. He's only a man, albeit a very powerful, intelligent, and resourceful man. I believe he has the best intentions of America at heart, but I hope he hasn't bitten off more than he can chew. Let's hope he can choose a cabinet that will get the job done.
In the meantime, I will continue to worship him along with the rest of the country because he is a true example of how much one person can inspire so many people.
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
Monday, November 3, 2008
Election Day Eve
It is the day before Election Day. Hopefully, by the next time I post, Barack Obama will be the president-elect. I have to admit that it gives me butterflies thinking of the results. I am trying to envision Wednesday's NY Times cover with a picture of Obama and the words "Victory!" underneath it. At the same time, I'm trying to prepare myself for a potential recount and (gasp!) upset.
Yesterday, I went to NE Philadelphia again to canvass for the Obama campaign. This time I drove a rental van with six other people, all of us strangers, to one of the offices. The place was buzzing; people were signing up by droves. Volunteers, some who had been there all week and will most likely be seeing it through to the end, were training others and handing out packets with names and addresses of people who lived in Mayfair, the blue-collar community in which we were located. All the people on the list had been identified as Obama supporters or likely supporters. The goal was to visit them at their homes and speak with them about getting out to vote on Tuesday. There was no more convincing people at this point. Many are still undecided and that's their prerogative. We were there simply to make sure they would vote, regardless of who they supported. Of course, the idea is that our presence would lead them to support Obama.
Altogether, I knocked on 77 doors and spoke with 37 people. Some were Obama supporters and some wouldn't say who they were supporting. For the most part, my presence was not met with much enthusiasm. Some of these people had been contacted as many as five times since the campaign started and were frustrated by it. Others were middle-aged mothers who seemed too tired and busy to talk to me. I didn't get many elderly folks, but others from my team had and were thoroughly delighted with them. Most of them were charming and sweet, offering volunteers tea and a bathroom, or amusingly grumpy, slamming doors in faces or shouting absurd things at them. Either way, they made funny stories. A couple of people encountered smear leaflets from pro-life groups and one had a leaflet shoved in her face after being lured over by a couple of innocuous-looking old ladies.
The whole day was so inspiring. It showed how committed and passionate our side is. I just hope all that hard work pays off.
Yesterday, I went to NE Philadelphia again to canvass for the Obama campaign. This time I drove a rental van with six other people, all of us strangers, to one of the offices. The place was buzzing; people were signing up by droves. Volunteers, some who had been there all week and will most likely be seeing it through to the end, were training others and handing out packets with names and addresses of people who lived in Mayfair, the blue-collar community in which we were located. All the people on the list had been identified as Obama supporters or likely supporters. The goal was to visit them at their homes and speak with them about getting out to vote on Tuesday. There was no more convincing people at this point. Many are still undecided and that's their prerogative. We were there simply to make sure they would vote, regardless of who they supported. Of course, the idea is that our presence would lead them to support Obama.
Altogether, I knocked on 77 doors and spoke with 37 people. Some were Obama supporters and some wouldn't say who they were supporting. For the most part, my presence was not met with much enthusiasm. Some of these people had been contacted as many as five times since the campaign started and were frustrated by it. Others were middle-aged mothers who seemed too tired and busy to talk to me. I didn't get many elderly folks, but others from my team had and were thoroughly delighted with them. Most of them were charming and sweet, offering volunteers tea and a bathroom, or amusingly grumpy, slamming doors in faces or shouting absurd things at them. Either way, they made funny stories. A couple of people encountered smear leaflets from pro-life groups and one had a leaflet shoved in her face after being lured over by a couple of innocuous-looking old ladies.
The whole day was so inspiring. It showed how committed and passionate our side is. I just hope all that hard work pays off.
Thursday, October 23, 2008
Subway
I had the most pleasant commute today, it was unnerving. The 7 express train came right as I got to the platform and it was empty! I have no idea how this happened, but it was weird...and wonderful. No being cramped into a tiny space, no elbows in my face or toes stepped on, no body odor. I could actually sit and enjoy the beautiful early morning view of Manhattan. It was smooth riding all the way to Times Square. Oh, if only every day could be like this.
Of course, the crazy Christian dude was still ranting in the corridor between the 7 and A/C/E trains. "Jesus wants to bring eternal life (light?) to your soul. He wants to be your friend but you continue to reject him and turn toward Satan." I hear that, Mr. Crazy, I sure do. Every. Single. Day.
Of course, the crazy Christian dude was still ranting in the corridor between the 7 and A/C/E trains. "Jesus wants to bring eternal life (light?) to your soul. He wants to be your friend but you continue to reject him and turn toward Satan." I hear that, Mr. Crazy, I sure do. Every. Single. Day.
Tuesday, October 21, 2008
Travel Readings
Last night, I went to The Half King for a book reading. Rolf Potts was reading from his new collection of travel stories called Marco Polo Didn't Go There: Stories and Revelations from One Decade as a Postmodern Travel Writer. I've posted about Potts before and how inspiring his book, Vagabonding, is to me. Of course I bought his new book and had it signed by him. I always go to book readings thinking I won't buy the book and then I almost always do. I'm so susceptible to marketing. Oh well, it's nice having a signed copy, I guess.
In person, Potts speaks very much like he writes, with a very straightforward, clean, and balanced prose. He has this extremely practical and refreshing way of thinking and writing about travel. He encourages travelers to slow down and take the time to really get to know a place, not just whisk through it on a whirlwind. Too often, I feel like this is what I, and many others, do when traveling. You schedule visits to three cities in one week and do a perfunctory tour of each place. It's only when you stop and really experience a place, that you allow it to sink into your skin and have the most memorable time. He also cautions against pre-conceived ideas of a culture or place, and even one's own judgments of what's right or proper or valuable. You have to be fluid, adaptable, and sensitive to what's around you. But you also have to strike a balance between that and your own honest feelings. You shouldn't sensor them or worry too much about being politically correct. If something genuinely offends you, let it offend you, but be open to seeing things you'd never have expected seeing in that particular place in time.
Like any good writer, Potts has a bit of a self-deprecating, goofy, and vulgar side. He is a self-proclaimed "travel geek." At one point, he presented a slide show of his own photos. One was a high school yearbook photo of himself sporting a mullet and Cosby sweater; another was a picture of the place he spends most of his time: a bare writing desk with an old laptop next to a bed. His point: travel writing isn't as sexy as one would think. He seemed to really want to demystify the lifestyle of travel writers and show how unglamorous it really is. He mentioned that he lives very simply, never beyond his means, and, instead of settling in an exciting place like New York, he owns a farm in Kansas near his family. Also, after ten years of writing professionally, his income is only now starting to be commensurate with his experience.
There was a bit of discussion about Elizabeth Gilbert's book Eat, Pray, Love spurred by a fellow travel writer in the audience who was "envious...of her numbers." I thought that was a pretty funny comment, especially since the guy had just gone on a tirade about how he liked that the book explored the "neuroses of New Yorkers." Potts calls the book "travel porn for women," which struck me as a little misogynistic, if not hilariously true. I actually really liked the book, but not as a piece of travel nonfiction; I never thought to classify Gilbert's book as such. It's more of a self-help book peppered with some foreign locales. It's not really an account of her experiences in a particular place. Her experiences could have happened anywhere. Potts' criticism comes from her living in an insular world of expats, not really exploring where she travels to. She reflects inwardly rather than onto her environment, which is precisely why I say it's a self-help book, not a travel piece. In any case, Potts' intriguing review of the book imagines a man in Gilbert's place, and summarizes the story to an amusing effect.
*On a somewhat unrelated note, there was a pretty cool photo exhibit on display at The Half King. The artist apparently followed Barack Obama on the campaign trail and some of the photos were really moving. One is a shot of Obama from behind waving to an audience that's blacked out, due presumably to a bright spotlight. It kind of shows his isolation, how he can't even see his audience. But his energy still comes through the photo. My favorite picture, though, is of him sitting on a pool table, taking a shot with the cue wrapped behind his back and through his arms. There are all these people standing back and watching him, which gives off more of the same feeling of isolation. But what really gets me is this very real, laid back, cool demeanor he possesses.*
In person, Potts speaks very much like he writes, with a very straightforward, clean, and balanced prose. He has this extremely practical and refreshing way of thinking and writing about travel. He encourages travelers to slow down and take the time to really get to know a place, not just whisk through it on a whirlwind. Too often, I feel like this is what I, and many others, do when traveling. You schedule visits to three cities in one week and do a perfunctory tour of each place. It's only when you stop and really experience a place, that you allow it to sink into your skin and have the most memorable time. He also cautions against pre-conceived ideas of a culture or place, and even one's own judgments of what's right or proper or valuable. You have to be fluid, adaptable, and sensitive to what's around you. But you also have to strike a balance between that and your own honest feelings. You shouldn't sensor them or worry too much about being politically correct. If something genuinely offends you, let it offend you, but be open to seeing things you'd never have expected seeing in that particular place in time.
Like any good writer, Potts has a bit of a self-deprecating, goofy, and vulgar side. He is a self-proclaimed "travel geek." At one point, he presented a slide show of his own photos. One was a high school yearbook photo of himself sporting a mullet and Cosby sweater; another was a picture of the place he spends most of his time: a bare writing desk with an old laptop next to a bed. His point: travel writing isn't as sexy as one would think. He seemed to really want to demystify the lifestyle of travel writers and show how unglamorous it really is. He mentioned that he lives very simply, never beyond his means, and, instead of settling in an exciting place like New York, he owns a farm in Kansas near his family. Also, after ten years of writing professionally, his income is only now starting to be commensurate with his experience.
There was a bit of discussion about Elizabeth Gilbert's book Eat, Pray, Love spurred by a fellow travel writer in the audience who was "envious...of her numbers." I thought that was a pretty funny comment, especially since the guy had just gone on a tirade about how he liked that the book explored the "neuroses of New Yorkers." Potts calls the book "travel porn for women," which struck me as a little misogynistic, if not hilariously true. I actually really liked the book, but not as a piece of travel nonfiction; I never thought to classify Gilbert's book as such. It's more of a self-help book peppered with some foreign locales. It's not really an account of her experiences in a particular place. Her experiences could have happened anywhere. Potts' criticism comes from her living in an insular world of expats, not really exploring where she travels to. She reflects inwardly rather than onto her environment, which is precisely why I say it's a self-help book, not a travel piece. In any case, Potts' intriguing review of the book imagines a man in Gilbert's place, and summarizes the story to an amusing effect.
*On a somewhat unrelated note, there was a pretty cool photo exhibit on display at The Half King. The artist apparently followed Barack Obama on the campaign trail and some of the photos were really moving. One is a shot of Obama from behind waving to an audience that's blacked out, due presumably to a bright spotlight. It kind of shows his isolation, how he can't even see his audience. But his energy still comes through the photo. My favorite picture, though, is of him sitting on a pool table, taking a shot with the cue wrapped behind his back and through his arms. There are all these people standing back and watching him, which gives off more of the same feeling of isolation. But what really gets me is this very real, laid back, cool demeanor he possesses.*
Monday, October 20, 2008
New York Theater
I go through peaks and valleys of loving/hating New York, as I'm sure many New Yorkers experience. My main frustration with this town usually happens whenever dealing with rush hour crowds, slow walkers who stop short for no discernible reason, and slow or non-existent trains. These frustrations mount considerably when faced with the nearly impossible task of finding an affordable apartment in the city, a headache I wouldn't wish on my greatest enemy. During these times, I imagine myself in an isolated part of the world, remote and beautiful, living a simple, yet fulfilling life. Usually, there are small-town elements: a quirky cast of locals, bucolic landscapes, talking animals, etc. I am under no delusion that I would be eternally content in such a place, as I thrive in the fast-paced and exciting New York lifestyle. But the prospect of running away is very enticing.
However, most of the time, I feel a surge of love and pride at being a New Yorker. I especially feel this way after seeing a particularly good piece of theater. It's no secret that the performing arts is robust in this city. There is such a wealth of options. The experience of live theater usually leaves me feeling grateful and a bit more alive. Even if I'm leaving a theater near Times Square, the annoying crowds don't bother me if it's been a good show.
Broadway shows aren't the only things to see in New York City that give me the warm fuzzies. I recently had the opportunity to see the Vanguard Jazz Orchestra perform at the legendary Village Vanguard when a friend was visiting from out of town. They were extraordinary, a superband with an explosive sound and exciting solos. Another favorite of mine is Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind, performed by the New York Neo-Futurists. The ongoing show, an attempt to perform 30 short plays in an hour, is usually quirky, funny, and moving. Then there was the awesome short-lived Jump, a kung fu slapstick comedy that played at the Union Square Theater.
In general, my only complaint about theater is the expense. It can be costly, but I consider it a worthy investment most of the time. It's investing in dreams, music, stories, life. Still, there are many opportunities for discounts. I won't necessarily pay $100 for a musical, but I will stand on line for cheap rush tickets or a lottery. I don't mind paying for the cheapest possible seat and seeing a show from the last row, because I'm still there to experience it. For instance, when Gypsy first opened, I paid less than $50 for mezzanine seats. For such a big show, it doesn't matter where you are in the audience, in my opinion. Of course, its nice to sit up close. That way, you get more into the world of the play. But I'd sacrifice that experience to save a few bucks. Some shows have a lottery for cheap orchestra seats, including In the Heights. You submit your name 2 hours before curtain and only have to wait half an hour to see if you've won tickets. The payoff is front orchestra seats for $26.50. I plan on taking advantage of this offer.
For those 18-35 years old, the Roundabout Theatre Company offers $20 tickets for all their shows with Hiptix. Earlier this year, I saw the excellent, Tony-nominated Sunday in the Park with George through this program. Next season, the Roundabout is producing Samuel Beckett's Waiting For Godot. I can't tell you how excited I am for this, as the production will star Bill Irwin and Nathan Lane, two actors I have not seen enough of.
Perhaps the best example of cheap theater is The Public Theater's annual summertime Shakespeare in the Park. All tickets are free for this festival, with two shows per season, sometimes featuring celebrated actors or directors. I'll never forget seeing Hair this summer at the Delacorte Theater. Being in the audience felt like a gift and a triumph; the triumph of enduring a long wait on line for ticket hand-outs. The show was outstanding and was only heightened by the experience of waking up at dawn to sit on cold, hard ground for hours. It sounds silly, but it was very much in keeping with the spirit of the age in which the show originally took place. Not that I felt like a hippie or anything, but it just made sense for the show to take place outdoors, from the process of getting a ticket to the performance itself.
There is nothing like free, outdoor theater. I don't know if this qualifies, but one of my most memorable New York moments happened one night not too long ago. It was a Friday night this summer and I was in the West Village with a couple of friends. We stopped by Father Demo Square, which is really a triangle at the cross-section of 6th Avenue, and Carmine and Bleecker Streets. This is one of my favorite spots in the city because if you face away from 6th Avenue toward the water fountain in the center, it doesn't feel like you're in New York City at all. You're transported to a small, charming European city, perhaps Nice or Siena. During the summer, there's a guy who brings out his piano and plays in this "square." He does a mixture of classical, pop, and classic rock tunes. This one night in particular, he was playing a classical piece, and a few young couples started dancing. Then the male counterparts burst into ballet and danced for a good half hour. The girls were more shy and sat out most of the time, but they eventually returned to their partners for a pas de deux. We later learned that they were ballet students from the LaGuardia Performing Arts High School. They could have fooled me into believing they were professional.
However, most of the time, I feel a surge of love and pride at being a New Yorker. I especially feel this way after seeing a particularly good piece of theater. It's no secret that the performing arts is robust in this city. There is such a wealth of options. The experience of live theater usually leaves me feeling grateful and a bit more alive. Even if I'm leaving a theater near Times Square, the annoying crowds don't bother me if it's been a good show.
Broadway shows aren't the only things to see in New York City that give me the warm fuzzies. I recently had the opportunity to see the Vanguard Jazz Orchestra perform at the legendary Village Vanguard when a friend was visiting from out of town. They were extraordinary, a superband with an explosive sound and exciting solos. Another favorite of mine is Too Much Light Makes the Baby Go Blind, performed by the New York Neo-Futurists. The ongoing show, an attempt to perform 30 short plays in an hour, is usually quirky, funny, and moving. Then there was the awesome short-lived Jump, a kung fu slapstick comedy that played at the Union Square Theater.
In general, my only complaint about theater is the expense. It can be costly, but I consider it a worthy investment most of the time. It's investing in dreams, music, stories, life. Still, there are many opportunities for discounts. I won't necessarily pay $100 for a musical, but I will stand on line for cheap rush tickets or a lottery. I don't mind paying for the cheapest possible seat and seeing a show from the last row, because I'm still there to experience it. For instance, when Gypsy first opened, I paid less than $50 for mezzanine seats. For such a big show, it doesn't matter where you are in the audience, in my opinion. Of course, its nice to sit up close. That way, you get more into the world of the play. But I'd sacrifice that experience to save a few bucks. Some shows have a lottery for cheap orchestra seats, including In the Heights. You submit your name 2 hours before curtain and only have to wait half an hour to see if you've won tickets. The payoff is front orchestra seats for $26.50. I plan on taking advantage of this offer.
For those 18-35 years old, the Roundabout Theatre Company offers $20 tickets for all their shows with Hiptix. Earlier this year, I saw the excellent, Tony-nominated Sunday in the Park with George through this program. Next season, the Roundabout is producing Samuel Beckett's Waiting For Godot. I can't tell you how excited I am for this, as the production will star Bill Irwin and Nathan Lane, two actors I have not seen enough of.
Perhaps the best example of cheap theater is The Public Theater's annual summertime Shakespeare in the Park. All tickets are free for this festival, with two shows per season, sometimes featuring celebrated actors or directors. I'll never forget seeing Hair this summer at the Delacorte Theater. Being in the audience felt like a gift and a triumph; the triumph of enduring a long wait on line for ticket hand-outs. The show was outstanding and was only heightened by the experience of waking up at dawn to sit on cold, hard ground for hours. It sounds silly, but it was very much in keeping with the spirit of the age in which the show originally took place. Not that I felt like a hippie or anything, but it just made sense for the show to take place outdoors, from the process of getting a ticket to the performance itself.
There is nothing like free, outdoor theater. I don't know if this qualifies, but one of my most memorable New York moments happened one night not too long ago. It was a Friday night this summer and I was in the West Village with a couple of friends. We stopped by Father Demo Square, which is really a triangle at the cross-section of 6th Avenue, and Carmine and Bleecker Streets. This is one of my favorite spots in the city because if you face away from 6th Avenue toward the water fountain in the center, it doesn't feel like you're in New York City at all. You're transported to a small, charming European city, perhaps Nice or Siena. During the summer, there's a guy who brings out his piano and plays in this "square." He does a mixture of classical, pop, and classic rock tunes. This one night in particular, he was playing a classical piece, and a few young couples started dancing. Then the male counterparts burst into ballet and danced for a good half hour. The girls were more shy and sat out most of the time, but they eventually returned to their partners for a pas de deux. We later learned that they were ballet students from the LaGuardia Performing Arts High School. They could have fooled me into believing they were professional.
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Hoftsra Debate: Obama vs. McCain
Last night's debate was such a joke! How long will it take for people to realize that McCain is all attack and no substance. Granted, he's a terrible debater, always repeating the same things over and over, and has those unfortunate beady eyes and smug look to overcome. But really, he just came off sounding like such a child, it was almost uncomfortable to watch. Obama sat there, calm and collected, with his points at the ready. And they're good points too! He didn't sound petty or disgruntled at all the mudslinging. He even went so far as to suggest they bring it on; it's all part of campaigning. He really gained my ultimate respect last night, if he didn't already have my full support. What he says just makes sense. McCain's attack is to say Obama just wants to spend more of our money. Well, yes, a country costs money to run. So does a war. Would you rather have a strong country or a strong war? I think McCain has made it clear which he prefers.
I do have one complaint with Obama. He missed the opportunity to list the many ways in which Sarah Palin is not qualified to run a country in the event that happens. I realize he was just trying to be polite and not step over the line (because unfortunately it's way too easy to step over the line when it comes to Sarah Palin). But his response to that question was kind of lame. Now only time will tell who's qualified and who's going to sink this country even further.
I do have one complaint with Obama. He missed the opportunity to list the many ways in which Sarah Palin is not qualified to run a country in the event that happens. I realize he was just trying to be polite and not step over the line (because unfortunately it's way too easy to step over the line when it comes to Sarah Palin). But his response to that question was kind of lame. Now only time will tell who's qualified and who's going to sink this country even further.
Sunday, October 12, 2008
President Obama
I went to the northeast suburbs of Philadelphia, PA yesterday with Alli, Josh, and my mom to canvass the area for the Obama/Biden campaign. That morning, Barack Obama himself appeared at a rally outside the Mayfair Diner only a few blocks from campaign headquarters. We rolled into Mayfair around 9:20am; the rally began promptly at 9:30am. I'd like to say I got a good look at the man who will become our next president but, alas, the crowd was thick and noisy, blocking Obama's signature rhetoric from reaching my ears. It was still exciting to be there and I did get some glimpses standing on my tippie toes, albeit from afar.
It was amazing weather, perfect for walking door to door asking people if they were voting for Obama. Josh and I went with another newbie, a woman named Barbara from Westchester by way of Queens. Ours was a middle-income, working-class neighborhood, Obama's prime target demographic in this swing state. Most people were not home. In fact, out of the 50 doors we hit that afternoon, only 15 people actually spoke to us. One man leaned from his window and replied, "Yeah, I'm voting for Obama. Two chickens in every pot!" To which we laughed and moved on, marking him as a supporter. "What the hell does that mean?" we later asked ourselves. We figured it had something to do with the economy. Indeed, it was a statement made by Herbert Hoover during his 1928 presidential campaign remarking on the prosperity he would bring our nation. Interesting what all that prosperity would eventually lead to, and how chillingly close we are to a similar fate.
It was amazing weather, perfect for walking door to door asking people if they were voting for Obama. Josh and I went with another newbie, a woman named Barbara from Westchester by way of Queens. Ours was a middle-income, working-class neighborhood, Obama's prime target demographic in this swing state. Most people were not home. In fact, out of the 50 doors we hit that afternoon, only 15 people actually spoke to us. One man leaned from his window and replied, "Yeah, I'm voting for Obama. Two chickens in every pot!" To which we laughed and moved on, marking him as a supporter. "What the hell does that mean?" we later asked ourselves. We figured it had something to do with the economy. Indeed, it was a statement made by Herbert Hoover during his 1928 presidential campaign remarking on the prosperity he would bring our nation. Interesting what all that prosperity would eventually lead to, and how chillingly close we are to a similar fate.
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