Bernie Sanders in NYC

The Bernie Sanders rally in NYC titled “Where We Go From Here” was inspiring and daunting. Located a block from Time Square with the dazzling lights and trundling costumes of Elmos and Batmans, the humble Senator drew a massive crowd. People waited in a line that stretched up and down streets while police officers with bulletproof vests and rifles stood watch. Lots of Bernie 2016 shirts, many a pin tacked on a collar. There was anxiety in the air, too, an aimlessness of their passion. What was Sanders going to do with the numbers overwhelmingly in Clinton’s favor? How could anyone vote for that woman? Who would could possibly be voted for if not Sanders?

Color me shocked. This false dichotomy is paralyzing lots of voters. I digress (but hold that thought).

So it was interesting to hear “Where We Go From Here.”

Sanders spoke with passion, he connected deeply and personally with the issues of his supporters. They jumped at every possible chance to clap and roar his name. Some people were bowing, screaming they loved him. I kid you not. I kept thinking, This is where he tells everyone the next step. Not the idealistic bytes of his campaign, but of how his supporters can continue to keep their politics alive, even with their runner diminishing from the race (cue agist joke about Sanders running).

But there wasn’t this moment where Sanders settled the crowd and said, “But let’s be real, where we go from here will not include me as your Democratic Party presidential nominee.” Instead, he mentioned gathering the support of his campaign behind other Democratic Senators running in their states and efforts to establish the wishes of his supporters on the Democratic platform come November.

His caution is warranted perhaps only by the mathematical life still breathing throughout his nomination campaign. But his subtlety may be lost on many of his impassioned followers. Truthfully, there is still much to be desired in Sanders’ politics and his policies, notwithstanding his rhetoric and integrity.

But following Bernie is not what you think it means. It’s not about him and never was. It’s about political activation, of awareness and where to lend a voice. It’s about thinking of this nation’s direction. It’s about being a participant rather than a viewer.

Because this is where we go from here: in the greatest age of communication, voters in the United States must know more about the policies of our government. We must be informed and we must share. We must learn and we must care. We must be open-minded and compassionate.

The vow of Sanders’ campaign has the feeling of a grassroots movement, but it always depends on which lawn you stand. We feel most keenly when there is a side against us, and these dichotomies stretch our nation too far apart. This country is full of intelligence, thoughtfulness, and optimism. So when you read about politics and government, think about all the ways you can contribute, whether discussing with friends and family, sharing articles, or voting.

You can watch the full speech here:

I’m a registered Independent and voted Sanders for the Democratic Party Presidential Nominee.

My Theory Behind Why Worknight Is Not A Word But Workday Is

It’s not natural. That’s what it is. A worknight—or, the terrible thing I have dubbed writing after dinner hours—is so dastardly, unpolished, and turdlike that the dictionaries have refused it. But it exists.

(And let me say, I understand that work night is a thing, y’know, a composition of English words. BUT, worknight is not a thing.)

I got up about half a hour ago to stretch my legs and think about the bad and awful writing I had just written. What the hell am I doing? I AM WRITING, SHUT UP. I took a few deep breaths, some push ups (gave up), climbed on some things around the house, and looked in a mirror and HOLY CRAP, I LOOK LIKE GARBAGE. That’s what a worknight is. A lot of shouting, and you have so little energy, that your body quits trying to make your face and complexion like a creature that deserves food and sunlight.

I remember stuff like this. It was called college. But it’s not quite like this. There are no classes that last for 8 hours, are sandwiched between commutes, and are every single weekday. Sure, you had some class, strolled between places, chatted with bumped-into homeys, went to a lab, left early because you felt like it, ate something, went home, napped, and then did your diligent studying and homework. Then you got to go out. Hey, not bad.

But this… this workday into a worknight thing. Totally unreal. Let me break it down into the multi-variable equations that haunt my sleep cycle.
1.5 commute hours
8 workDAY hours
1.5 commute hours
0.5 hours dinner
5 workNIGHT hours
= – 800 hours of sleep


But hey, I’m not a needy guy. I’m just a dude, blarging about my totally normal and generally complacent life. Phew. Good, thanks for listening to that. The whining has ended and now I can officially get back to writing.

Seriously though, not sure how many of you out there are fighting the good fight on these worknights, but let us band together and tell all those people struggling at 3pm on a workday to SACK UP.

PS. I totally wish blarging were a viable thing at work. But, as we can all see, it’s not very conducive to me writing my novel! Now which work am I talking about?