Lifestyles

While the Indians wonder which company will bring their next bag of rice, and the orphans of Sudan wake to find peppers smeared into their eyes as they slept in the streets, and the Thai revolt and the Chinese fall under one more earthquake, I sit... and sleepily sink further into the sofa. Jamaicans are drowning and the impoverished of New Orleans are evacuating once more, Mexican puppies are left to die in the streets and ninety-year old Georgians suffer fresh wounds from Russians invading, yet, despite worldwide emergency, my own eyes are burning, and that familiar ennui begins to set in.

Democratic National Convention

I heard the Word of Obama this morning, sitting on the floor of my parents' bedroom. My mother, like the crowds of Invesco, shouting "Amen," and clapping her hands, thrilled out of her skin, my father, grumbling out of bed and I, so many eyebrows raised in a skepticism my mother calls, "Sad."
I tried to make it to the stadium, to hear the speech firsthand, to witness, "History in the Making," but something kept me last night.