Journal : OpenRoadWorks

Living just outside of Washington DC puts me in a special place to watch tonight's State of the Union address. Just miles south from here, deep in the heart of Capitol Hill, President George Bush lights his speech in unusually clear words from a podium surrounded by all the top government officials that the United States can muster. Republicans (many), Democrats (fewer), Supreme Court judges, senators, special diplomats, cabinet members, and others more privileged respond to the president's words in applause, rises from the bench, silent disdain, furtive glances, and various other postures marking the volleys. Talk of war and terror, foreign policy, economy, and other topics that fill cafes and public spaces are the paint by which George Bush sprays his canvas. In the moment, there is surrounding silence, clarity of spirit, and resounding focus on this one moment that places politics at the center of primetime television and living rooms. There is not agreement in this mom

It's amazing what a difference a year makes. On this unseasonably warm day in New Jersey (low 60's at the high end of January is nothing short of extraordinary), I am sitting in a hotel room and pondering life on the other side of the chasm. Never mind that I feel like more of a grown-up now, one month and some on from finishing my graduate studies. The student life is now but a figment of my imagination, a hallucination from the days I lived in the dungeon corridors of a building far, far away in Switzerland. Tomorrow is my current reality. I will be meeting nearly all the staff of my newly joined department in an "all-hands" meeting, the annual meet-and-greet festival of powerpoint presentations and team-building exercises that kicks off a (hopefully) successful year. I am sure by the time this event comes around again next year, the world will look ever different, with a new set of thoughts and feelings to tide me over on such an evening - but for now I am dig

I promised myself in the new year that I would maintain diligence in my thinking and writing. Every day, I promised myself, would be for discovery and artistic rumination, culminating in a cornucopia of ideas for stories and prose. One year being forced to write a daily diary entry would seem to ingrain the kind of work ethic and routing that would make this easy as pie, right? Already a couple of weeks into the new year, I am behind - but definitely not out of it. With a new place to hang my hat and a new door on which to hang my name placard, I am finally off and running into a new life. And what a brilliant errand it is to make something out of nothing more than packing, moving, and starting a new job. So, here I am, back at it again in the "real world" and wondering what this new year will bring in a world with which I have lost touch over the past six years. I am sprouting roots and experiencing the growing pains that comes with sprouting. In the meantime, I am sl