Last night was a marathon. I worked all day, then spent all night covering the election. And not the big presidential election, mind you. I covered the local election. In Redlands. Where politicians still exist on some physical level.
I worked three different post-election parties getting react quotes from the candidates (who gave me a mixture of useless rhetoric and straight-up whining) and the people who supported them. Two of the parties were in Redlands, another in San Bernardino. I spent time jetting from place to place to place, stopping at my news desk at irregular intervals to slam out chunks of copy I didn't want to forget.
After I got all I could from the parties, I ran home, took a shower and grabbed a few hours of sleep before heading back to my desk to work deadline at 5 a.m.
All anyone is talking about today is how history was made last night when Barack Obama was named president-elect. Yeah. I guess that's true. History was made. It was a big moment, but I felt like I was one of the precious few who could keep the whole damn thing in perspective.
When Obama gave his acceptance speech to that throng of adoring supporters in Chicago, I was standing in a hotel lobby in Redlands, surrounded by a group of people that were a.) largely exhausted and b.) drunk.
As the silver-tounged Obama launched into his "yes we can" thing, this group I was with (they were Democrats and, it bears mentioning, they weren't all drunk) started cheering and crying and carrying on.
And you know, I can see why they were excited. These were the types of people who hold fast to a very specific political ideal, and last night, they feel like they saw that realized.
But when all of that was going on and people were acting out because this guy got elected to be the new leader of the free world, I found that my focus was elsewhere.
And it's true, I didn't vote for Obama. But had McCain won the election, I think I would have still been hit with the same sense of aloofness...like I was watching but I was somehow removed from all of it.
These people were freaking out because this man is the embodiment of this lofty ideal they have. This belief system that they wanted so badly to be validated. And I was removed from that I think because I have a belief in something better.
I believe in the story.
Now, when I say "the story," I don't mean the story of Barack Obama becoming president. I mean the news story. Any news story.
I believe in the chase of it. I believe in hunting it down, catching it and systematically making it my bitch. That's what I believe in, and no matter who's in the White House, that will always stay true. For me, last night was one of those times where you know you're doing exactly what you need to be doing, and all the heartache and stress and endless amounts of bullshit that come with it are just necessary evils. Because I believe in the story, I am chasing one right now, to be honest. And on two hours sleep, no less.
...Note that I didn't say I believed in something bigger. If I said that, I would be lying to you. The story is not bigger than what happened last night. In all honesty, the specific story I wrote about my travels last night will be read by a fraction of the 8,200 people we distribute to and then guess what: It gets tossed in the recycler. A day after I wrote the story, people will move on...
But guess what else tomorrow brings: another story.
And here's where the concept of the story becomes better than the story of Obama. After last night, Obama can only get worse. Anyone in his position has nowhere to go but down after the euphoria of last night. He'll get mired down in the bullshit of being president. Sure, the guy might carry it better than our last commander-in-chief, but the bullshit remains, regardless.
But me? I'll be moving on to another story. Today. Tomorrow. The day after that.
Everyday, I get to see something new and write a story on it.
That's what I believe in.
Jesse B.
