Politics and Booze

No, i am not going to use my blog to try and convince you to vote for my guy. It wouldn't work anyway, and i'd rather keep my friends. But, i did have an interesting weekend of politics, friends, and essentially free beer.

No, i'm not talking about the party i wanted to have the night of the Vice Presidential debate where all present would have to drink every time Sarah Palin winked...

i'm talking about Barack-toberfest! Yes, you heard correctly, the Sedgwick County Democrats hosted a blowout bash and they called it... Barack-toberfest. It was held on South Commerce Street here in Wichita, apparently a trendy little neighborhood where progressive artists hang out and where the liberals of Kansas sneak around to their underground parties. When i pulled up i saw my friend walking down the street, and was immediately relieved because i thought i was in the wrong place. i asked him if this wasn't a little ghetto, and he said yes, and wasn't it great?! Apparently he is very familiar with this area... being a music teacher and a bit of an art snob. So i met up with him and the two of his friends he brought along. We went in and paid the $5 cover (that's where the essential part of the free beer comment comes in) and saw this...




This is how liberals in Kansas party, my friends... oh, yes. We were there half an hour late, which was apparently not late enough to be fashionable. So we hung out for a while, got first dibs on the keg, and just chatted it up, looked at the buttons and shirts for sale, and waited on the band. The building started to fill up and by the time the music started, it was as hoppin' as it was going to get. They fed us hot dogs and little cupcakes with the O symbol in the icing. Later we heard from the big shots at the Sedgwick County Democratic Party, and some local politicians stumping for themselves. i have to tell you, my district democratic candidate for the Kansas State Senate has a great butt.



Some other folks from school met up with us after the band and before the stand-up comedian and we decided to head out and catch the last showing of that new movie, W. It was definitely Netflixable (new verb) but not necessarily even mantinee worthy. On our way out after midnight, we ran into more people that my artsy-fartsy friend knew, and we hung out a bit outside the theater and critiqued the movie. So there we were... 1:00 on a Friday night (yeah, yeah, Saturday morning), a bunch of young people in our prime, a city full of lights and bars and dives waiting for us. Where did we go next?

Home. To bed. Heck, most of us were teachers. We were all yawning and had to shake our heads at ourselves for the silliness of it all.

i would be lying if i said i didn't go to this as a way of trying to keep myself busy. But in the end it became a pretty nice way to keep myself busy. And i made some new buds and had a few Buds, so i guess it worked well enough.

The next day i went out with a group of other friends, formerly mutual to Jeff and i. That was much harder, as everything kept reminding me of him, and i nearly cried at the restaurant and then excused myself to the bathroom later at my friends house and actually did cry. At some point during the evening, though, i found myself sitting in the living room engrossed in a good conversation 'gone bad' and laughing hysterically. i realized it was the first time in two weeks that i had done that, and it felt really good.

i got tired earlier that night, probably due to all the crying or trying not to cry. So i left around 11 with the express purpose of heading home and going to bed. But as i rode through the city with an old tape on, i found myself driving in circles around my block, and then out on the highways, and then out to neighboring towns. The cool October air was circulating through the cab of the truck and i felt somewhere between tears and hope. i couldn't just go home and go to bed, not feeling like that. So i drove and sang loudly to the music. At the same time i was thinking...

i told my mom about everything last week in an email. She sent back, "what did I tell you about moving for a man?" And i had to defend myself, so i said, "mom, it was an adventure... and i don't regret it... you have to take chances, you know... maybe they don't always work out, maybe they never do... but it's the chances you don't take that you regret... it's those moments when you look back and think, geez, i wonder what might have come of that..." Her response to me made me well up and smile. She said she admired my sense of adventure, and that so few people, of either gender, would have had the guts to do what i did... she said that despite everything that happened in our family, i had managed to develop a strong sense of self.

i thought about that exchange as i drove through and around the city. Thought about the past and about the future. i thought about myself on the last night of my life and tried to project how i would feel about this past two years at that point. i thought about risks and oppertunities, love and loyalty, failure and success.

i can't say that i came up with much in the way of wisdom. i kept thinking about that old cliche: "to love and win is the best thing; to love and lose, the next best." i drank in the cold air and reminded myself that living truly is the most thrilling adventure. Experience is everything. You take nothing material with you when you die and go... wherever it is you believe you're going to go. The only thing you can do is hope that as you close your eyes and look into the last abyss that you have truly known what is was to be alive. To feel, deep and thick, every moment and to embrace and know as many passions as you can manage in the time you are given.

It's nice to say, but in reality you can't live every day like it was your last. You have to plan for the future and try to anticipate tomorrows. But if i think of life like baseball, i know i don't want to trot across homebase easy and confident but rather come sliding in, dirty and bleeding in a cloud of dust, and shouting, "wow, what a ride!"