Close to speechless.

Oh hey. What’s up?

Yeah, not much here either…just, you know, thinking about my day. It wasn’t that exciting, really. I hung out with some buddies. It was a casual gathering, really — only, like, 84,000 of my closest friends were there, according to the Denver Post.

Are you buying this nonchalant approach? Yeah, me neither, but I’m kind of stuck. See, I’m a cynic with nothing to whine about, and it’s getting hard not to sound like a saccharine cheerleader here in Denver. During Barack Obama’s acceptance speech, for one of the first times I can recall, the little snarky voice in the back of my head was (almost) silent. That, or it was deafened by something I’m really not used to — genuine, raw optimism. Patriotism. For a dejected soul of the post-9/11 era, that’s saying something. Something huge.

Tonight wasn’t an occasion for coolness, an aloof attitude or sassy asides. This moment meant too much to too many people for that.

This was the climactic moment (thus far) in a civil rights struggle predating America itself. Historical serendipity brought tens of thousands of people mile above sea level to witness a black candidate accept a major party’s nomination for the presidency for the first time exactly 45 years after the March on Washington.

It’s a point that’s been perhaps over-emphasized in the media, particularly on television, but it gets me every time.

Depending on who you ask, tonight marked a climax in a number of other struggles, too:
For some, a struggle to ignite an era of post-partisan politics (whatever that means);
For others, a struggle to beat the odds and put a Republican in the White House in spite of every historical trend suggesting it’s impossible;
For me, a struggle to remain objective in a situation capable of turning the most stoic journalist partisan.

I failed miserably in the face of the last struggle, but I’m okay with that. I’m just thrilled to have experienced a time in my life when I felt so impassioned that it would have been unethical as a journalist to do anything but ‘fess up about it. Besides, for me, and I imagine for countless others in the crowd tonight, this wasn’t so much about a political candidate as it was about regaining faith in a nation with which we’ve become jaded.

I can’t describe how inspiring it is to see about 84,000 people gathered in one place who actually give a damn about what happens next in America. I don’t care if you’re a Democrat, a Republican, a Libertarian, a Crystal Pepsian or an anarchist (even though a massive anachist assembly is kind of counterintuitive). It doesn’t matter who people vote for, I’m just excited to see them energized about candidates. Seeing roughly 1 out of every 3,600 people in the country gathered for a cause more important than the next American Idol is profoundly humbling and rousing all at once.

Tonight was…I don’t even know. Incredible. Absolutely incredible.

Obama’s speech, though pristinely delivered, was far from perfect. I’d like to have seen something more sweeping and thematic. This was a great speech, one that satisfied the biggest needs in the campaign — specific policy proposals, a dignified but pointed attack on McCain and a continued message of the campaign’s stronghold theme, hope — but this speech could have been one for the ages. It’s a classic case of high expectations tainting perception of what actually happened. I was expecting something epic, so when I got the best candidate speech I’ve witnessed in my lifetime, it wasn’t good enough.

But that probably won’t matter. Today, John McCain sliced into Barack’s media “bounce,” which might’ve proved a good thing. Because I have a ton of respect for McCain…but Sarah Palin? Really?

So, since this program’s finally drawn to a close, here’s a final analysis of the goals I originally set for myself.

1) Through my media/political fieldwork, gain a better sense of vocation: politics, journalism, or both.
The thought that maybe journalism wasn’t the best choice for me has long been lingering in my subconscious, I think…and occasionally, it’d surge forth into my conscious mind. These two weeks confirmed those latent suspicions. I sincerely believe I’m too passionate about politics to, in good conscience, pursue a career as a reporter.
This doesn’t rule out journalism as a career, of course. I’m sure there are plenty of opportunities out there at progressive publications. Maybe someday, I’ll snag a job as an opinion columnist. I could always report about politics or the arts —venues in which having a strong political opinion and the passion to voice that opinion won’t prove ethically problematic.
Furthermore, my internship with the New York Post was a pretty dismal experience; I didn’t feel like I gained much of anything from it. If anything, I regressed because I didn’t practice the craft for two solid weeks.
In contrast, I’ve grown enamored of the political process. Do I know exactly what I want to do? No, but I know I’m applying to graduate schools for political science.

2) Through our group discussions and guest lecturers, decide if I find politics fascinating enough to pursue a graduate degree.
Yes. See above. ‘Nuff said.

3) Schmooze, socialize and rub elbows to either a) gain me journalistic connections, or b) gain political connections for a post-graduate degree or career.
I got a business card from the front page editor of the Washington Post and managed to snag contact information from a guy who owned a small paper, has been in the business for years, went to Mizzou and dabbles in screenwriting. I think that’s a job well done.

4) Meet Kathleen Sebelius, Larry King, Wolf Blitzer, or any of this year’s crew of folks who vied for the Democratic nomination.
I didn’t meet any of these folks. Larry King wasn’t even here. But of all the goals I could’ve failed to meet, I think this one was just fine. Besides, I met John Oliver and Rob Riggle, and they’re infinitely cooler than most newscasters and politicians anyway.