Change we can believe in

So marks Day 1 of the Democratic National Convention. This marks the first DNC that I've taken pains to observe. I have my week scheduled accordingly, with each night recorded on my mom's DVR, just in case.

I have to admit, and I'll eat my own cliche, I am so - very - inspired.

We kick started the DNC with an address from house speaker Nancy Pelosi. Pelosi, always an avid Obama supporter, attacked McCain, as is expected of any conventions opening predator, and did so with a somewhat nervous demeanor that didn't really behoove her. Thankfully, she worked in a call and response refrain, "Obama is right, John McCain is wrong", and worked in the repetitions so many times that the audience, with gusto, chanted in queue. However, her delivery was a bit frigid and her cadence seemed a bit too rehearsed. While she was an ideal speaker to address the connectivity, tenants and hopes of this week, she paled in comparison to the later speaker's that surfaced. Oh wow. They are, as follows:

Caroline Kennedy paid tribute to her uncle in an unassuming and loving way, and in so doing worked in references and parallel ties to Barrack Obama that almost demanded that all in attendance (listeners, too) never consider the two mutually exclusive. The video montage started off a bit trite, with Ted Kennedy in a yacht that I worried would widen the yield between voters with lower socio-economic status- but they stretched the metaphor in an all encompassing manner. They pulled it off to where no one could deny the impact Senator Kennedy has had on our nation as a member of the senate for the past decades of my life, and the lives before I lived. Caroline made certain we'd remember as she detailed her uncle's contributions. Then, of all the speaker's to align themselves with Barrack, Teddy took to the stage in a robust, confident and endearing speech in which he promised to be present at all points in the Obama/McCain race and instilled hope and promise in us in assuring he'd be standing in much the same position this January. MSNBC was forewarned that he'd speak for 4 minutes and he far surpassed that anticipated time frame. He was as he's always been when dedicated to his craft and it only heightened the DNC's mission to further support Barrack Obama.

Now, Michelle. Oh Michelle. Her oratory delivery was one of the most spectacular I've yet seen. She pulled not the race card. She didn't dwell on the misgivings or hardships of her youth. Instead, she employed creative rhetoric in detailing her family's values with those of her husband in a tender, stoic and emphathetic manner. She spoke of balance, and her words, not necessarily detailing any political platforms only served to further promote her husband's position. It was beautiful. I'd argue she won the election for her husband. Commentators commented on her role in addressing the congregation today. If her main intent were to focus on delivery, she sunk it out of the park. Viewers identified with her. Felt comfortable with her. Weren't threatened or annoyed as they were with Mama Heinz. If she wanted to focus on content, she ace'd that as well, touching on some of the more intimate and immediate concerns we carry - the war in Iraq, family values, the economy in subtle, but demanding ways. She was both a vision and an inspiration, and her dialogue with her husband, that followed, in satellite television with her two daughters in tow, only perpetuated the belief shared by many that Barrack is truly a family man and that this 'illusion' isn't. That this is the American Dream realized. "With the current of history that meets the new tide of hope. You see, that, is why i love this country."-Michele Obama.

So much more to come. Until then vote with assurance. vote with heart.

We're going out in a din of discordant voices

Soon to begin work and I wildly welcome the opportunity. I'm a whirlwind of movement and anxiety and vacations and holidays and time to myself just don't become me. It's ideal, then, that I have an itinerary in place. That I travel 15 hours only to work longer days. Our assignment seems secure. Elect Betsy Markey. Unseat Marilyn Musgrave. With the good people of Colorado's 4th District already disillusioned, the stakes seem safe, but I aim to collapse exhausted. I want to talk to all the people that I've never before been privileged to talk to. Talk shop. Talk life, living, the grand design. I want to be a component of the machine. The wheel. The cog. Something to expedite movement, or be essential to. I have started new, and changed my time accordingly.

"Our hell is a good life"

Her, more than musing:

I wore a dress that moved

Found Poem. Memories of a hair stylist, if you'll join me in inverting the pro-nouns.



What They Do To You In Distant Places

I never told you.
There was a woman-in the greening season
of a tropical island
where I had gone to break some hard thoughts
across my knee
and also, although I am no athlete
but breathe with my stomach like a satyr
and live in my stomach
according to bile and acid and bread and bitter chocolate,
to run a long race for the first time.
On that morning,
it was raining in great screens
of the purest water and almost no one at 4 a.m.
where I waited, half-sheltered
by the edge of my dark hotel, for a let-up.
Except her, suddenly
from nowhere-smelling of long hair and dew,
smelling of dew and grass and a little powder.
She wore a dress that moved.
She had been out dancing and the night and she
were young.
I wore a black watch cap like an old sailor
but I was all there was.

I said no, I had to do something else.
She asked how far? And
if I would run all that way-hours.
I said I'd try,
and then she kissed me for luck
and her mouth on mine was as sweet as the wild guava
and the smell of her hair
was that of the little bit of dew the lover
brings home from the park
when again she shows up in the morning.

I don't know where I have been
that I have ever had such a kiss
that asked nothing and gave everything.
I walked out into the rain
as if blessed. But I had forgotten
what they do to you in distant places,
taking away your memory
before sending you back. You and me.
I confess,
I forget her within the hour
in the gross odors of my labors.
If I had known what she was doing...
Perhaps she's with you now.
-Marvin Bell

Hope is a thing, with feathers

back, and not a moment too soon:

What do we do with the beauty we find in the smallest of things?

Everything really was beautiful.
And nothing hurt.

I am really, truly, howl at the moon happy right now.

This is Kim-chan, signing off.
More to come from Chicago, the campaign trail and a life well lived.