in plain english

The Republican Primary: Dysfunctional Dating

This article was published in Spanish in Foreign Policy en Español. Keep in mind that this was written for a Spanish audience that has a lesser understanding of the American political system.

It's not enough to be charismatic, have good ideas or make electrifying speeches, if you want to become President of the United States, you must be able to mobilize votes in the right states and this takes a combination of energizing your party's base and appealing to independents. A candidate's ability to energize his or her party's base is prominently on display during the primary process, which favors candidates who do so. Once the primary is over, the chosen candidate is forced to pivot towards the center and fight for independent voters, obviously this is more challenging for candidates who won by appealing to the very extreme end of their party. This is at the heart of what is both good and the bad about the United States primary process and the current Republican presidential primary is fantastic example of this paradox: their never-ending search for the perfect candidate is weakening the future prospects of the candidates already in the field, some of whom represent the party's very best chance at capturing the White House in 2012.

42

I like the phrase “what doesn't kill you makes you stronger” because it's an easy way to laugh off and lighten up something very difficult. It started rattling around my head back when I traveled alone for the first time and came up against some tough times. The funny part though is that practically none of life's trials kill you (well, one eventually will) but all of them do make you stronger.

So, this 42nd year of my life started off with a pretty big trial. One that I somehow managed to drag into 42 when I really should have left it in 41. I made some big mistakes during the first few months of 42. The gravest being not putting my own well-being first. But we learn. I learned.

I've learned that there's absolutely nothing to fear in being alone because I'm my own best company. No kidding. I've always known about the existence of my introverted side but never valued it. I thought, and being in Spain clearly influenced this, that it's better to not be alone. But good thinking and good writing happens alone and I've come to appreciate how incredibly satisfying this is. I've finally come to the conclusion that I don't enjoy working in teams, despite my  American upbringing with all those team sports and clubs and such. I did it all and did it with gusto, but when I look back on my youth those hours alone at the piano really stand out. More than playing soccer and more than the pompon squad.

California sunshine runs through my veins and I back at 42 and see wonderful  things, wonderful people, wonderful times. I feel lucky, but that's not it because we're all lucky—it's just a matter of seeing the good. It's a big fat cliche but also true that there is so so much joy to be had out of little things and it's easy miss them if you never just shut up and sit still for a while.

Music and motivation

When I was home at Christmas I had the good fortune to spend some time with a very special old friend, Anne Stager, the women who first taught me to play the piano, a tremendous gift that I will always have with me. Here’s the funny thing: in my memory, I was always dying to learn to play the piano and from when I started lessons at 9 was a very dedicated student. But Anne reminded me how I wasn’t all that consistent at first and then there was a very sudden change in my attitude. She had given me a record album for Christmas by the great Ilana Vered that I quickly because obsessed with. Anne told me that I had suddenly become very focused, as if I knew where I wanted to go with my music. And from what I can remember that was absolutely true. My wonderful teacher gave me a taste of what was possible and hearing that possibility focused my 10 year-old-self on dreaming of becoming a concert pianist or at least being able to play the shit out of Liszt’s Hungarian Rhapsody. 

The Big One

January 17, 1994 4:31am

I was asleep, so I can’t remember how or when it began. All I know is that suddenly we were clinging to each other under the bedroom doorway, terrified and convinced that these were our last moments. Our bedroom, which was otherwise lit by L.A. city lights, was pitch black and was violently lurching in every direction. A lifetime of preparation did not come close to preparing either of us for the sheer panic and utter conviction that the world was indeed coming to an end.

An eternity passed. We screamed unintelligible revelations and obscenities. Strange, unrelated memories and images flooded my mind.

I only became aware of the loud rumbling as it started to slow. Electrified streetlamps--bursting one by one like a string of fireworks passing by our window--signalled its end. A pause of silence, then every car alarm in the city that loves cars, dutifully alerted their owners of the disaster. We loosened our grip on each other and, trying to contain our nerves, moved across the still wobbly floor towards shoes and flashlights. Then Jeff called from the other room, “I hate to say it, but the windows are still intact so that probably wasn’t ‘the big one.”

Shooting Arizona-style in Spain

The shooting in Arizona happened the day before I returned to Spain after a visit home to California and Washington State. This terrible event hit me especially hard since spending time with family and friends always brings my heart closer to home, the U.S., which is so often vilified and misunderstood abroad. Most of us were profoundly saddened and devastated that something like this could happen, especially while Rep. Gabrielle Giffords was in the very act of democracy: meeting in person with her constituents.