#personal reflection

There is a photograph of me from the fall of 2008, standing inside Dorton Arena in Raleigh before a Barack Obama campaign speech.

I was fourteen years old.

I am smiling.

Not the little closed-mouth expression people produce when somebody points a camera at them. Not the strained approximation of happiness that appears when the photographer says, Come on, smile.

I mean actually smiling.

My whole face appears to agree about what it is doing.

I have seen the picture enough times that it has acquired a slightly archaeological quality for me. There is evidence here of an ability I once possessed effortlessly.

Somewhere along the way, smiling became difficult.

If I deliberately try to smile now, the result is usually terrible. One side of my mouth seems to receive different instructions from the other. My eyes do something unrelated. The muscles of my face assemble themselves into an expression that looks less like happiness than an actor attempting to portray happiness after being given insufficient rehearsal time.

It looks fake because it is fake.

This is strange mainly because I do not consider myself an especially unhappy person.

There are plenty of days when I feel good.

I get interested in things. I become absorbed in projects. I enjoy music, ideas, exercise, conversations, walks, discoveries, small accomplishments. I can feel peaceful. I can feel hopeful. I can feel deeply satisfied by something without any particular urge appearing in my face to advertise the fact.

The closest personal connection I have to the epidemic of gun violence in the United States is not through a statistic, or a headline, or a political argument.

It is through a teacher.

His name was Steve Wolf, and from 2010 to 2011, he was my AP Environmental Science teacher at Millbrook High School in Raleigh, North Carolina. At the time, I knew him as a young, energetic, slightly eccentric teacher who made science feel connected to real life. He was serious about the subject, but not in a way that drained the room. His class had a pulse.

He was also a runner.

That mattered to me. I was a runner too, and I remember being impressed that he would go for runs during his lunch break. There was something quietly heroic about that to me as a teenager: an adult with a job, a classroom, responsibilities, and still, in the middle of the day, he made time to go outside and run. It made running seem less like a school sport and more like a lifelong form of freedom.

He also introduced me, indirectly, to Dean Karnazes.

Mr. Wolf had read Ultramarathon Man, and he told us stories from the book: Dean Karnazes turning thirty and transforming his life through running, pushing himself through absurd distances, ordering a pizza during a long run and folding it into a kind of burrito while still moving down the road. Those stories lodged somewhere in me. They had that teenage magic of being ridiculous and inspiring at the same time. They suggested that the human body was not just a machine for getting through the day, but a strange instrument capable of endurance, comedy, pain, and joy.

Why would the democracy of the United States benefit from ending its current two-party system? One potential argument is earlier, before the two parties reached their current hyper-polarization and the crippling impasse that results from it, the Democrats and Republicans each contained within themselves enough philosophical and political diversity that they acted almost as multiple parties. Check out this article from The Atlantic for more information on that idea.

Nowadays, though, as entrenchment has rendered compromise all but impossible, it's time to consider another solution. I don't claim to have the answers, but came up with a plan for myself that is partially inspired by Bernie Sanders, and partially inspired by my grandparents, who notably favored third-party candidates: this week, I swapped my voter registration from Democratic Party to Independent, and in the upcoming election cycles, I will give the third-party candidates first consideration, and put Democrats last. With about 0.003% likelihood would I vote for a Republican.

If everyone chose this path, our current two-party system would naturally erode, and we would find new ways to operate politically in this country that would necessitate compromise, because no one party would likely be able to count on a majority. Can I convince you to try this voting experiment? I am looking forward to seeing an end to the current, inflexible, impractical, and discouraging political system here in the United States.

For the general election in the U.S. today, on 3 November 2020, I volunteered as a canvasser, someone who knocks on doors to encourage registered voters to cast their ballots. However, something unrelated happened that is significant enough for me to need to write it down before I forget the details. It's that I had the biggest crush in a single day that I have ever had in my life with the person who was my canvassing partner. It felt almost like we had a shared mind or something, that is the best way to put it, like our thoughts functioned in the same way. This was the only time I’ve asked a girl out face to face, although she politely said no, and since I only know her first name, it is fairly doubtful I would see her again. I do not know how different her perceptions might be of that time, but I think those two and a half hours or so that we spent together having fun and talking will be permanently engrained in my brain. The toughest part for me is wondering if I will ever experience something like that again, because I don’t have anything really to compare it with. I feel like I fell in love at first sight, one of the few times I have ever felt so strongly about another person.

I am not going to be able to sum up this person succinctly with the amount of time I have available, so let me instead just share a list of why I liked her so much. She had a beautiful voice that sounded like she was singing each time she spoke. She had an inimitable fashion sense, entirely her own. Namely, she wore a blue suede baseball cap, a khaki trench coat, a yellow scarf, light blue jeans, and pink sneakers. She carried herself with a gentle dignity, and had a slightly formal way of speaking, kind of like me, and a cute laugh. It was less anything physical that struck me about her, though. Instead, it was a feeling of completeness being around her. I felt an instant connection to her, like she knew what I was thinking, and how I thought, right away. I liked the calming sense of her presence, and there were so many things I wanted to ask her but wasn't sure if it was the right time to do it. We talked for about half the time while walking around to the different sites, and I kept on wanting to make her laugh, and succeeded more times than I was expecting. These words don't capture the feelings at the time, though. I liked all her little quirks, like the way she pronounced "Guthrie" as "GOO three" or "cordoned" as "core DONNED." Why is it that in retrospect, it feels so silly? The truth is there was something different in me being with her, a positivity that lies dormant in me too often. I had a sense that her mind functioned similarly to mine, some type of eccentricity that is hard to sum up in general terms, but more comes from examples, like the way she talked about her enjoyment of maps of navigation, and the way she noticed small details on the houses we were passing. Most people don't notice these things, and being able to share them with another person was rare and special for me.