Admist the celebrations, fireworks, live music and cheers one thing rings clear in the night America calls Obama their 44th president elect: hope is alive. For some, this is the first ray of hope they’ve seen in a long while. For others, this is the empowerment they’ve been passionately pushing for years. I am excited at the possibilities we’ll continue to see as we embrace this new attitude.

I think Nate Silver over at fivethirtyeight.com, put it eloquently in his post on the “Pandemonium After Obama Victory“:

After watching a breathtaking, tear-jerking and passionate performance of Antony and the Johnsons with the Oregon Symphony, I quip to my friend, Joe: If you like DRUGS, you’ll LOVE the symphony! We walk out of the Shnitz with an extra hop in our steps and I have passion bubbling inside and I think I may explode. (And it’s impossible not to run-on my sentences!) Suddenly, I deserve a giddy, romantic and sincere love. I imagine a life with passion a part of EVERY day, like a drink at lunch. My friends, past lovers and future husbands flutter amidst the darkness of the night and the night tastes sweet, like cornfields after a summer rain.

Top Alive Moments, free-write list:

1. This concert
2. Train bridge jump, Traverse City
3. Moments in love: cloves in winter, falling in love is like trees, midnight picnic, waterfront chatter, rooftop escapades
4. Fluting in world premier of new composition, NE All-State Band
5. Music… Andrew Bird, SF shows, Austin, my musical in my car, late night jam sessions, …

It’s true. As I search for those moments of overwhelming passion and aliveness, love and music dominate. And with music, it can be watching and listening, like the recent shows and festivals, and it can be the active participation and exercising of my vocal chords, arms, legs and whole spirit and soul. What’s even better is that music is cheaper than drugs (and I won’t even go into the health pro-cons) and won’t break my heart or drive me to crazy land.

There is the urge to weep. There is the force of creative vision. This pain? This isn’t a heart breaking; it’s a heart waking. The waking world is this one, where our senses clear and we feel the power of transformation, we see that the doors along the corridor of possibility are not, after all, closed to us, though they may be far away and heavy and frightening. We can face them and walk through them nonetheless.

- Luciana Lope, the Oregonian

Been a while since you’ve visited the city or never been? Check out some cool scenery and take a walk down impressive Mural Alley. And while you’re there, help me figure out some intriguing found plants. San Fransisco (and Outside Lands Festival) in Pictures.

No time to explain. The last time I sat down to blog I spilled coffee and killed my laptop. At the time, I had visions of expanding to music and technology and had some witty commentary on the gmail and at&t outtage. Now I sit across from Melissa in a secret garden, preparing to walk over to our second day of the Outside Lands Festival. And now she’s sighing, waiting for me to wrap this up, so off we go.

PS. Radiohead is pure euphoria. As can be expected, pictures will be loaded soon.

John and Amelia Mlnarik

JT on the Vinyard

Amelia Mlnarik, Baptized

A few weeks back, my cousin John graduated from law school and the following day, they baptized his daughter, Amelia.

The entire weekend was bliss, sunshine, family and inspiration. I was lucky enough to meet up with my aunt, Susan, and her son, Nick, who were flying down to San Francisco from Seattle. After we got our car, we met up with Tricia and the Nebraska gang, Shirl, Don, Joan, and Tom, for some winery tours. Little J.T. loved playing with the vinyard’s puppy. I’m not sure who was better or more enjoyed fetching.

Saturday and Sunday were whirlwinds of celebrations. John inspired me with his valedictorian speech and proof that dedication, passion and a positive attitude pay off. I wasn’t prepared for mass, but having the priest raise little Amelia overhead as he welcomed her to the parish was pretty cool. It even topped the moment I realized that I wasn’t going to burst into flames as I entered a church for the first time in years.

For more pictures of the occasion, check out this album on Facebook.

I’ve tried the Porn Name game before and have always been disappointed about the results. Growing up on 5th street, you can imagine how bland the names would turn out even when trying different “first pet” names. “Molly Fifth”, “Zach Fifth”, “Peaches Fifth”, etc.

So today, when my friend sent me the Wrestling Name game, I clicked on the link with hesitant speculation and was pleasantly surprised to discover I am now “Ivory Woman”. What’s your wrestling name?

For the men:
http://www.wrestlingname.com

For the women:
http://www.wrestlingname.com/diva/

In lieu of an update (though, as you can tell from my writing this, I am alive), I want to share a funny string of emails I’ve been getting. Apparently, another “Jewel M” doesn’t know her own gmail account, so she occassionally forwards her emails between herself and her ex-husband, Ron, and a potential/ex-boyfriend, Tom, to me. The first time this happened, I responded to let her know I was receiving her emails. So when she kept sending them, I assumed she wanted me to have them. Appropriately enough, this string is titled “Honesty.” My favorite lines are bold. Thanks Jewel M!

From Kansas Joe, posted on Myspace. I couldn’t help it and just have to share. Enjoy!

If you’re like me and your phone is your life, then a piece of advice: get to know your cab driver. You will eventually leave your phone, camera or billfold behind.

As soon as I made it into the hostel, I realized that I didn’t have my phone and calculated it could only have fallen out in the shuttle van or at the first hotel passengers were dropped off at. When asked who my driver was, I couldn’t think of anything other than “he’s from Brazil.” I can never remember a name, though I never forget a face or a place.

“Half my drivers are from Brazil, sweetie.”

Lovely. We had just been chatting it up, as I was the last passenger to be dropped off, and I racked my brain for other identifying information. “He has a family and decided to be a driver recently … he used to be a computer engineer.”

“Oh, that must be Fernandez - only got two guys who were into computers. I’ll give him a call.”

And that’s how I got my phone back.