Wick Allison is the former publisher of The National Review, which describes itself as “America’s most widely read and influential magazine and web site for Republican/conservative news, commentary, and opinion.” So, you may be interested in Mr. Allison’s recent article, A Conservative for Obama:
Barack Obama is not my ideal candidate for president. (In
fact, I made the maximum donation to John McCain during
the primaries, when there was still hope he might come to
his senses.) But I now see that Obama is almost the ideal
candidate for this moment in American history. I disagree
with him on many issues. But those don’t matter as much
as what Obama offers, which is a deeply conservative view
of the world. Nobody can read Obama’s books (which, it is
worth noting, he wrote himself) or listen to him speak
without realizing that this is a thoughtful, pragmatic,
and prudent man.
I offer two pieces of advice for tomorrow. One: consider the candidates, not the parties. Two: if you let large news organizations dictate the points about which you argue with your friends and neighbors, you are taking their bait, distracting yourself, and wasting time.
Musical shivers are “go” with Bloc Party’s new album “Intimacy”. Mykala sent me an email saying the album sounded pretty good, so I picked it up 15 minutes ago and gave the track “Signs” a listen while I ate dinner.
Whoah.
Re: that track “Signs”… I’ve never heard such good use of electronically syncopated bell sounds. Bloc Party sounds like this: take the accessible feel of late 90s alt-rock and blend in “emo” lyrics from the early 2000s — next, strip out the washed-out guitars. In their stead, inject a throbbing heart of interesting instrumentation, propulsive rhythm, and clever processing and you get Bloc Party’s barnburning sound.
Every year at some point before Halloween, I imagine myself going to a large, fabulous party somewhere in celebration. That worked out last year, though I managed to sabotage a potentially good time. So this year, we keep expectations low. In celebration of Halloween, I will:
Continue wedding planning with my fiancée.
In the process of (1), spend more than 20 consecutive minutes in the same room as Mykala.
Study Histology.
Wax a tooth.
Go to bed early.
I’ll be dressed as a sleep-deprived dental student complete with hair that needs to be cut, glasses, and scrubs. My most convincing costume yet.
Twelve hour dental school days aren’t even long anymore. They’re just typical. At the end of them, you come back home (starving, if you didn’t pack a dinner) and just settle in and try to concentrate on more work until bedtime. Thankfully, nothing is hard per se… it’s just a gigantic pile of things to memorize.
Mykala has been keeping me sane; she gives me perspective and food, as needed. Both of very high quality.
So, yes — lots and lots of memorization. As time progresses, this will give way to skill building and understanding. In the meantime, the information dam has broken, and the weight of the water crashes down each day.
Give me a snorkel and a pencil, and we’ll press on until December.
I came up like everyone
They taught us all the same
I said what they told me to say
And then from that they grade
Give up repeating the facts
Fact can be arranged
Here I am, I’ll take my chance
Now play the record straight.
Now give it up!
Oh oh oh oh oh oh
Give it
up!
Oh oh oh oh oh oh
Talking points from talking heads
With automated smiles
There’s no higher ground to stand
Than bottom of the pile
Give up acting unaware
You can’t ignore the crime
The enemy is you as well
The enemy is I
This has been the longest shortest week I can remember — that is to say, the days have been very long, to the point that I can scarcely differentiate Monday from Tuesday from Wednesday and so on. The days just blur from one to the next… I can feel my mind, like a muscle in training, becoming better and better at learning (which is helpful) but I feel my body become more and more tired. And so… I’m off to the library in a minute to see how long I can study there.
Studying for a biochemistry exam tomorrow is like undergraduate déjà vu. Like that old Garfield and Friends episode:
Déjà vu… the feeling you are doing something you have done before…
Déjà vu… the feeling you are doing something you have done before…
Repeat ad nauseum. Thankfully, the didactics slowly fade out and the clinical slowly fades in through the next two years. The D1s and D2s live for the third year, when clinical work is almost full time — bliss!
Today was fail. Tomorrow we try again. Tonight, we prepare for tomorrow. This weekend… well, I haven’t thought that far ahead. Also: this text brought to you by a first-person plural personal pronoun used in the archaic (for English) T-V distinction.
At least that’s my new explanation for always saying
“We’ll see you later.”
If I had the time to record an album of music, I’d want it to sound like Peter Bradley Adams’ Leavetaking. Try out the track Los Angeles. This guy is the real deal. Hole. Ee. Crap. That’s some good music.
On Friday afternoon, as the yellow leaves rustled under a warm autumn sun, Mykala and I drove through the country around White Bear Lake listening to that album. Magical.
Dentistry — hoo boy, they make you earn it to work in this occupation. It was a long long day, and my left eye seems to be twitching for some reason. (Note to left eye: please stop! Ok, thanks, bye!) I did make it outside to sit and eat a spot of lunch with Mykala as she was coming back from Marriage and Family Therapy related classes. Such a (literal, figurative, actual, metaphorical, etc., et al.) ray of sunshine in the middle of the day.
I know we’ll look back at this time and remember only sunny days.