44

"If there is anyone out there who still doubts that America is a place where all things are possible, who still wonders if the dream of our founders is alive in our time, who still questions the power of our democracy, tonight is your answer."


Ladies and Gentlemen, it's official. The Star-Spangled Banner in triumph still waves, o'er the Land of the Free and the Home of the Brave.

President-Elect Obama has a long and hard road ahead of him. He and his administration will make mistakes, as every administration does. His presidency will not be perfect. There will be challenges and difficulties, triumphs, compromises and disappointments. Nobody doubts that.

But, just as we did on September 12th 2001, we wake up today to a new world - a world irrevocably changed. Except that this morning, it is the light of hope, and not the spectre of fear, that greets us - that allows us to see, if only for a moment, our world as a place transformed, a place of unlimited potential.

Because no matter what happens in the next four years, the simple truth is that symbols matter. Hope matters. Faith matters. Attitude matters. Belief in a better future matters. The grandmother turning on her TV this morning, who remembers having to drink at a different water fountain matters.

I have bought newspapers this morning to keep for my children.

God bless America.

Tomorrow's World?

"Rosa Parks sat so that Martin Luther King could walk. Martin Luther King walked so that Obama could run. Obama's running so that we all can fly. I can't wait until 5 November and I'm going to say 'Hello, Brother President'. I can't tell you who to vote for. All I can do is tell you to vote."

Jay-Z, rapper


There's a knot in my stomach. Partly it's excitement. Partly it's a vague and leaden kind of fear. Partly it's that most frightening of emotions - hope.

America - deep inside my heart - I believe in you.

I believe in Ginsberg and Kerouac, Steinbeck and Miller. I believe in Tarantino. I believe in Loving v Virginia. I believe in Steven Spielberg. I believe in Matt Groening. I believe in Woodward and Bernstein, Rawls and Dworkin, Marshall Mathers, Edward Hopper, Arnold Schwarzenegger and Ben Cardozo. I believe in John Denver, Dolly Parton and Tammy Wynette, in the First Amendment, in Abe Lincoln, in Santa Monica pier. I believe in Mrs Parks and Dr King and Senator Obama.

There's a knot in my stomach. And I know that it will not ease until the early hours of Wednesday, when we shall know if the sun is rising on a new world.

The Myth Of Perfection

Why don't I blog more often?

I often ask myself that. I enjoy updating my blog, having a bit of a mental and verbal meander, and saying hello to whoever is out there reading this.

The truth is almost certainly one of a perceived issue of quality. If what I write today, or what I write tomorrow, or what I write next month, isn't witty and wonderful and sparklingly original, so the fuck what? I'm not trying to be Dostoevsky here. But nonetheless I feel this pressure to be more than myself, to have something deeply "meaningful" to say, or to be interesting in some kind of abstract, objective way. All of this is bullshit. I'm not a little girl anymore, trying to impress my teachers or my parents, or even an exam board. I'm a grown woman of intelligence and warmth, and I shouldn't need to feel as though I am always "performing" for a shadowy judgemental audience.

The other thing is a lingering sense that I have to exude an air of completeness, certainty, and assuredness about my life. As if I cannot fully and openly admit to the world, without any shame or self-doubt, that my life (like everyone else's life) is a work in progress.

I have doubts about decisions, beliefs, relationships - sometimes the way I feel or decide to react to things changes. There is nothing embarrassing about sharing this with others, with friends and strangers.

If they pretend that their lives do not contain the same uncertainties - the same sense of evolution and lessons learned - they are almost certainly lying.

So enough with the weird self-consciousness, I say. I didn't call this blog "Broken Hallelujah" for no reason. It's time to be out and proud.