Obama-rama. For a limited time only?

One of my fondest memories of the past year was the wonderful night when Barack Obama was elected the 44th President of the United States. I happened to find myself in a hotbed of political fervor, commonly referred to as Boston, MA. Not only that, but I happened to be immersed in a 'communal artistic haven' within the hotbed of political fervor

. Some may call it Emerson College. 

So as you could guess, on the eve of our nation's most significant political renaissance of the 21st century, the majority of my peers were awaiting with anxiously liberal breath on the night of November 2nd. Be it snuggled up watching CNN in the comfort of a common room, or blogging on a Blackberry, the majority of college-aged semi-interested students gave a shit.

Yet, if I fast forwarded to tonight, February 24th, 2009, the common room crowd an

d Blackberry blog topics would be very different. Toda

y was not the date of an election, or an inauguration, but the current President's first address to Congress, his game plan of sorts, or agenda for the next 4 years. Essentially our President is discussing th

e same things he did during his campaign. Turning ideas into promises and realities. So why was is this once-heavily involved cross-section of society now apathetic towards the rock star political doppelganger? Why aren't college kids waiting with baited breath to hear the

 words of the current president that they worked so hard to elect?

I'm very hesitant to say this but maybe my long-kept secret theory may be true. Maybe the Obama-fad has finally passed; boiling down the political band-wagon

 fans from the socially aware youth of our current nation.

Where are all of the Obama t-shirt clad activists who were once so involved in the current state of our contemporary world? Perhaps I'm being too harsh and assuming that, just because students aren't gathered and celebrating means they are not t

uned in, or aware of the goings-on of their new administration. 

By writing this, I am not implying that I am higher intellect or interes

t than anyone else, I haven't even stated that I watched Obama's address. I am simply making an observation. 

SO, what do you think of this observation?

Is it accurate, is the Obama craze slowly dying down now that the job is done, and he's becoming less of a phenomenon and more of a diplomat? OR is the recent political inclination of the nation's youth still just as strong, just more sustained and normal? Or am I simply being a politically pretentious jerk? Your thoughts....

Ode to North Jersey

Written on 1/18/09.

There must have been an age when their neighborhood was found in the 'Prime Real Estate' section of The Post. & every time a moving truck would force itself up that embedded slope, the new home owners would exchange contented looks, breathe a satisfied sigh and smile, pleased with their new decision & eager to forge their new suburban homestead. 

To think, for such a reasonable price, they were only 20 minutes from the city. And if they bribed their super& went to the roof & craned their necks, they could see them...

Those persuasive, intoxicating lights that have that have attracted to many urban pilgrims with allure and the glamor of a new, reformed city life., 

The residents of this neighborhood had already tried their luck, and whether they had found it or not, they ended up across the river, in North Jersey, living vicariously through the events and moods of the city, parasitically feeding off of its resources, (and consequently the famous Brick Oven Pizza.)

Yet, from an outside perspective, these residents were far from city dweller

Their neighborhood now adhering to the reputation of a shanty-town, 

a crowded slum just far away enough from a metropolis.

The overpacked layout of houses and apartment complexes were packed like little red and white monopoly pieces stacked in the crook of a hill.

And at night if you stood at the right distance and silently observed for a bit of time, you would see the golden glow of comfort, emanating from every window, as the residents watched their favorite shows inside.

And if you watched particularly hard, you might even see the houses breathing; deep and consistently, as if they were all sleeping. 

& every house would soon begin to resemble a square block of a comfortable patch work quilt.

Every glowing window and breathing condo would  begin to melange together into an ambiguous microcosm of society.

...i need to start using punctuation. and complete sentences.

God's Head Cold

Maybe sometimes God gets sick.

Not really ill, just that nagging inconvenient sick. The kind of sick that makes your head feel like a big ballon, with your sinuses pushing on your brain.

Maybe God gets that. 

And of course when he foes, he feels miserable, drowsy, lethargic, blah blah blah..... BUT, being the workaholic that he is, he's gotta do his job. He has to answer prayers, solve problems, intervene with disasters, et cetera.  All of these divine tasks and he still realizes that he needs to decide the weather for the entire world.

No pressure. No big deal. 

Just deciding how the world will look and feel that day. So, he sits down and begins to map it out for the earth that day. 

& he says okay. It's summer in the southern hemisphere, we'll make it hot...What the heck, I'll throw some tropical storms over the rain forest, and give the outback more sun--make it nice and toasty. 

And then he gets to North America and does his thing. He's losing steam so he wants to get this over with. Some rain on the wildfires in Southern California, a cyclone in Kansas (for old time's sake), and sunshine in Philadelphia. It's always sunny there...

And then he gets to Boston.

And he sneezes.

The end.

PS. This made me grin when I checked my mailbox today, and saw that I had some pictures from the 'home front.' Maybe it will brighten your day. 

My little bro, Sean James Smith. 9 months old already. 

(2 teeth and counting....) =)

Pleasant Surprise of a Wednesday

I love people. 

Watching people

That's not meant to sound creepy, but really.

Observing those going about their everyday, the monotony.

Walking in their functional Monday through Friday shoes, that they put on this morning, still sleepily begrudging their alarm clocks.

I sit, immersed in the lunch break strolls, and mid-day commutes--minds wandering, heads bobbing to casual strides.

I usually sit amidst normalcy.

BUT, what's even better is sitting and observing people on a beautiful surprise of a day. 

A February indian summer, of sorts.

I watch as shrouded people suddenly hatch from the drab grays and beiges of their outer layers, looking around, slightly baffled, as they acclimate themselves to a pleasant gift from everyone's dear friend, global warming.

I watch as postures straighten up, and smiles slowly appear on faces.

I observe businessmen loosening their ties, and calling their suburban wives on minute Bluetooth headsets, just to discuss the weather, and see how their days are going.

And THUS, kindness is spread.

I watch au pairs push urban youth in streamline strollers, as kids squirm to let loose and run in the much, stomp in a new network of tiny streams, from melted snow, that have temporarily taken over the sidewalk.

I watch the natural phenomenon of people ice skating in shirt sleeves, gliding around the placid surface as if they're Canadian geese coming in for landing on a tepid pond. 

Yet, some are not always so graceful.

And of course, there are still the regular idiosyncrasies of a thriving metropolis.

The haggard bum in weathered leather, condemning me--pointing fingers as I sit and type on my laptop on a park bench.

And the compact group of urban youth, skipping school, smoking cigarettes on the corner and chiding the businesswoman who happens to be wearing a particularly tight skirt today.

Things still aren't perfect here, and I'm not suggesting that a pleasant climate change can create a utopian Wednesday in the city of Boston, Massachusetts.

I'd just like to note the happiness and temporary relief that people all around me are experiencing. As if the city is taking a common, collective sigh, loosening up their wooly, winter scarves, and absorbing the naturally-induced contentment, and spoonful of seratonin until spring shines through.

Expose.

Dear Blog,

I am so sorry that I have been neglecting you. But I'm back, and trying to squeeze in some posting whenever possible (which seems to be the wee hours of the morning lately). I must apologize dear web-log journal, which I created so lovingly. It seems with the start of the new semester I'm a little overwhelmed with schoolwork & new activities starting. It seems my old lazy habits are being tamed, and once again, the rigid comfort of structure is implementing itself into my everyday life. It's a nice feeling, and as much as I resent being stressed/overwhelmed, I learned last semester, that I thrive on structure. so....its good to be back. Let's see how long this motivation lasts.

I remember this time last year when I, and most of my peers, were in the midst of 'CollegeSearch08'. After talking to a few friends today, and reflecting (not so fondly), I am so glad I will never have to take the SAT again. I am also glad that I will never have to mail my entire life on paper to a bunch of strangers hoping they'll like me enough to say 'sure...come here if you want.' SO- I found a poem I wrote this time last year that just makes me so happy to be in a place that I love, knowing I won't have to go through the college gauntlet ever again. (High school seniors, you're almost there!! The payoff is so worth the hard work!)

12.3.2007.

I will tap dance on the desk of the Dean of Admissions. 

I will tap dance in Morse Code, 

tapping, 'Please accept me!! I hope you love me!!'

And with my arms outstretched, 

and my feet tapping in dots and dashes, 

I will smile, 

I WILL BEAM.

And any sensible person will say

'Who cares if she's not a minority student, 

and that she doesn't have a 4.3 GPA.

That one's a sparkler!'

And I'll jump off the desk and sing you the saddest song you've ever heard.

It might be in a different language,

but you'll still be sad.

...You might even cry.

I COULD MAKE YOU CRY!

(But you'll be grateful and find it cleansing.)

& You'll turn to your pretentious, prestigious colleagues,

seating in chairs of the finest mahogany.

And you'll say 'Well, she's not a varsity captain,

and her AP scores are mediocre at best

but this one--she's convincing.'

And maybe you'll wipe your tears away

and see less than star struck expressions.

...That's when I pull out my secret weapon.

I'll challenge every academic competitor of mine to a duel!

A duel of wit and banter.

And the bookworms will read and cram

and create pneumonic devices to master 'wit'

And the philosophers will muse,

'What is wit?

How does one duel with the intangibility of wit?'

But I'll just sit around and prepare for the duel 

that just might admit me to your school.

And I will annihilate the competition

with my exemplary vocabulary, impish humor, 

devilish way of thinking ironically. 

That's right!

I can trump them with words, interest, charisma. 

But will that do it?

Will that be enough?

Or will I have to master a test that takes five hours to complete?

Will I have to be some athletic prodegy?

Or travel to some far away land just to have experience with 'diversity'?

My eagerness only adds to my vulnerability in this situation.

And although trying to convince myself that the likelihood of success in this situation is something to be laughed at, I still can't help but shake the idea 

the dream

the utopian illusion from my day-dreaming and head-strong mind.

All We Can Do Is Keep Breathing.

53 days until Spring....

Homework, Allen Ginsberg

If I were doing my Laundry I'd wash my dirty Iran

I'd throw in my United States, and pour on the Ivory Soap,
scrub up Africa, put all the birds and elephants back in
the jungle,
I'd wash the Amazon river and clean the oily Carib & Gulf of Mexico,
Rub that smog off the North Pole, wipe up all the pipelines in Alaska,
Rub a dub dub for Rocky Flats and Los Alamos, Flush that sparkly
Cesium out of Love Canal
Rinse down the Acid Rain over the Parthenon & Sphinx, Drain the Sludge
out of the Mediterranean basin & make it azure again,
Put some blueing back into the sky over the Rhine, bleach the little
Clouds so snow return white as snow,
Cleanse the Hudson Thames & Neckar, Drain the Suds out of Lake Erie
Then I'd throw big Asia in one giant Load & wash out the blood &
Agent Orange,
Dump the whole mess of Russia and China in the wringer, squeeze out
the tattletail Gray of U.S. Central American police state,
& put the planet in the drier & let it sit 20 minutes or an
Aeon till it came out clean