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A Favorite Moment of 2012: The Democratic National Convention

In the waning days of 2012 all I can think about is what a disaster this year has been. It’s all relative and it could have been worse and in many ways I’ve been lucky but when I think of this year all I can think is threat level red/this cannot end soon enough/is it time to drink yet? I think it’s time to drink.

The other day I found myself hard-pressed to find a bright spot in The Very Long Year. That was until I met up with a friend visiting from North Carolina who reminded me of a little trip I took in September to Charlotte.

Just a tiny event.

Democratic National Convention

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Look, I know that I’m the weird girl who is overly passionate about politics while the rest of the country is thinking that  a coup might be the best solution. It’s awkward to have conversations about how thrilling representative democracy can be with the dulcet sounds of Harry Reid in the background. I get it: You think it’s boring. That’s OK.

But being in Charlotte this summer was mesmerizing and fun and everything I needed it to be at that moment: A reaffirmation that what I have been doing and will continue do with my career has been OK. Better than OK, it’s been really, REALLY, good. There have been missteps, sadness and disappointment which can be natural as one goes through the ever-changing landscape of life. It has been difficult but there was this moment while sitting in an arena full of thousands after seeing friends up and down the streets of Charlotte where everything felt good. Most importantly it felt right.

I forgot about the moments when I felt enormously lucky that I get to write about politics and work in politics which is really all I’ve ever asked for. I wrote on Facebook — the bearer of all news, of course — that I’ve had a fantastic career. And I remembered the other day just how incredibly blessed I’ve been and that despite all of the everything, I continue to be excited (and nervous and anxious) about what is next.

And that is the sign of a good year.

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