"Let them eat cake" - mud cakes, that is.

In his March 20th blog "Let Them Eat Cake," Nicholas Kristof writes of the possibility of a future column emphasizing how the recession is hitting poverty stricken countries like Haiti and the Dominican Republic harder than developed countries in the West. Kristof writes,

I’m sure plenty of people shrug: So what? We have problems at home. We can’t be expected to look after everybody. Let’s address our own needs first before we worry about Haitians….

So what do you think the best answer to that view is? Or do you agree with it?

After a Reason party featuring a panel on immigration last week, my friend and I discussed the situation in Haiti over sushi, and I had to admit that, as someone who has traveled back and forth from Haiti several times to work with NGO Three Angels Children's Relief, I respond to questions like Kristof's with more emotion than knowledge. Playing aggressively with my chopsticks and fidgeting with the table cloth while I spewed forth stories of orphans, sexually trafficked teens and hungry families I had come to know and love, I admitted that I didn't feel like someone qualified to speak to an issue that hits so close to home.

However, as I Googled news on Haiti this morning while pondering Kristof's question, I felt strongly that the question of "worrying about Haitians" is one that, at the very least, must be asked.

It is a question that many are, indeed, asking. Kristof's blog is especially timely as 30,299 Haitians were served deporation papers this past week, despite protests and The House Judiciary Committee's subcommittee on immigration, citizenship, refugees, border security and international law considering drafting a bill granting Temporary Protected Status to thousands of Haitians in the United States.

It strikes me that while Antoinette's sentiments were toward her own people, the debate over Haiti's surrounds a people that are not legally part of the U.S. Regardless, feedback on Kristof's blog speaks to the need for the U.S. to climb out of their bubble and connect with those around us:

Ultimately, we’re all connected - our environment, our health, our safety, and our prosperity. There are many examples under each of these “headings” where an issue or crisis doesn’t respect geographic boundaries. -Arlene

As I read, I thought about a certain day in July of '07 in Haiti driving down Delmas, the main drag in Port-au-Prince. Stuck in traffic and sitting in a van full of old clothes we were trying to get rid of, a few of us decided to hand them to the children begging outside of our windows. They took them, yelling, jumping and begging for more.

It didn't stop there. More children came: yelling for food, banging on the van windows, shoving skinny hands out to us. I had been hungry before I saw them. Afterward, my appetite had gone. I felt like a privileged American who knew nothing about what life in the real world felt like. These children put faces and hands to Haiti's hunger and devastation, making me face up to issues like the mud crisis.

It took me a few hours to get beyond my emotion and realize that my not eating would do nothing for the Haitian people except for making me grumpy with the orphans I was actually helping to feed. As dinner hit my stomach, an online conversation with my family at home helped me to realize that my privilege does make me responsible to help the poor and needy. And it is that conversation has stayed with me.

Perhaps, like Kristof, what we need is to be willing to ask the hard questions and to ask them not with irrational emotion or a mind only for economics but with perspective for what we have. And when we ask them, we must keep in mind that we are responsible for what we have been given.

DC doesn't love fro yo as much as I do.

How is there only one frozen yogurt chain in DC?

This question has been plaguing me since I moved here. I am an avid consumer of good frozen yogurt and back in Southern California, I have numerous options: Yogurtland, Beach Berries, Pinkberry, Berry Cool, Red Mango … at any of these places I can indulge in my fill of tart frozen yogurt and fresh fruit toppings. When I’m at Biola, it’s a common occurrence to make a late run to Berry Cool before it closes at midnight, just to enjoy the conversation of a friend or to regain my sanity after hours of attempted studying.

In DC there is Tangy Sweet. That’s it. Rachelle and I tried it out over the weekend, and it wasn’t bad by any means, but the plain frozen yogurt was a little too sweet, and the fruit tasted like it had been packaged in syrup. And it was beyond strange eating frozen yogurt indoors to avoid the risk of frostbite. And it was expensive. What ever happened to the 30 cents an ounce joint? Yes, I know I’m a bit of a frozen yogurt snob, but I grew up alongside Golden Spoon … which probably doesn’t mean anything to most people in DC.

It makes sense that frozen yogurt would be more popular in Southern California -- our coldest winter morning is a balmy day in DC -- but I didn’t imagine that my favorite dessert would be this scarce. My sentiments might be comparable to the melancholy echoed in all the Southerners over the dearth of real sweet tea. Or perhaps the desperation experienced by many of us from California to find authentic Mexican food. I’m sure that every person here has his or her particular food of interest that is currently not being satiated. I don’t think I ever understood before now how much food plays into a person’s culture, as well as how drastically different regional cultures are within the United States.

It would be so easy to spend my time here in DC complaining about the few food items that I’m "dying" without. But the truth is that as much as I miss frozen yogurt, real Mexican food and In N Out, it doesn’t at all overcome my excitement to sample bits and pieces of the other diverse cultures at hand here. I am still surprised when I see three Ethiopian restaurants on the same block here and all of the Mexican restaurants that also serve Salvadorian food. Back home I don’t have the option of eating Portuguese food at Nando’s Peri-Peri or trying ethnic food from a country I’ve never even heard of. DC also saved me from making a horrendous judgment about Thai food. My only experience with it in California had been unpleasant, but eating at the Old Siam in Eastern Market and Kanlaya in Chinatown convinced me that Thai has to be one of my favorite types of food. I’m vulnerable to colorful, spicy, flavorful food, and Thai food has completely stolen my heart and my taste buds.

All to say, DC is a melting pot – and an amazingly delicious one at that – and I plan on taking advantage of new experiences. A few favorite items might have been overlooked out here, but I can go a few months without good fro yo. Besides, frozen yogurt is so much more complete after a day at the beach. Until then, I plan on trying the best ethnic foods that DC has to offer, or at least as many as I can in the next few months … especially the ones that are nice to the good ol’ wallet.

Earbuddies: A quest for travel time entertainment

One of the first things we were told by our community life directors when we arrived in DC was to never, under any circumstances, plug our iPods into our ears when traveling around the city - mainly when walking. Public transportation is the heart and soul of Washington, D.C. and I for one was not going to violate some golden rule and put myself in danger.

So I took this advice to heart, and although it leaves me a bit bored when I'm walking back from Union Station by myself, I am finding that personal headphones aren't even necessary when traveling by Metro or bus. Why?

People here have no concept of volume control on their personal music-playing devices. It’s the highest volume or nothing.

I am genuinely concerned about the eardrums of many of my fellow travelers, but their bad decisions are benefiting me. I was sitting on the bus coming home the other night, and sitting about two rows behind me was a teen girl with earbuds plugged into her head. The sound was a little distorted, but the entire way home, I enjoyed listening to Rihanna belting about "Umbrella"s and how she just got out of "Rehab." Unfortunately, the girl got off the bus before me - I wanted to scream: "Please, don't stop the music!"

But really, that girl will have more hearing loss than she realizes. Who knows, she could have "tough ears" or something, but is that really worth the risk? On the other hand, her future loss provides me with in the moment entertainment - you can't beat that.

It was Bon Jovi on the Metro. This guy was sitting directly next to me, and I could hear those rockin’ melodies as clearly as if the earbuds were in my own ears. Really spices up those Metro rides. Add in the flipbook-styled ads on the walls of the Metro tunnels, and the average traveler, like myself, has more entertainment between Gallery Place-Chinatown and Judiciary Square than they had ever imagined.

It’s his life. It’s now or never. He’s not going to live forever, so why preserve his hearing, right?

This problem has even followed me back to the apartments. I was in the library transcripting an interview for a profile I was writing and a fellow student was sitting down the table from me, audibly bopping to some Coldplay. He can viva su vida this way or however he so chooses, as long as he always plays music that awesome.

So consider this my thank you note/apology to all you headphone-wearing, iPod-playing, music-obsessive, volume-blasting, “I-can’t-sit-for-10-minutes-without-music” fiends out there:

I appreciate you. You provide me with entertainment on my short rides at no detriment to my own personal safety or to my future hearing abilities. Please continue to allow your sweet tunes to spill out from your earbuds and into the world around you. It gives me great pleasure while ensuring that I never have to carry my iPod around.

But I’m sorry that I’m so selfish and I take pleasure in your failings and future health risks.

And if you so happen to be traveling with me anytime in the near future, feel free to ignore me and turn up the volume. Give me some Beatles or Journey and you’ll have a happy girl.

Imagine all the people living with steadily decreasing hearing abilities. I wonder if I could work out some sort of system where I put in requests and donate a couple nickels toward their future medical bills? That's a very governmental, wise, unbiased agreement, I think?

Don’t stop believin’.

Polarization in D.C.

Sometimes everything in Washington feels polarized. One day it's 15 degress, the next it's 75.
One night we're in a glitzy hotel Dr. Barry Corey and the author of "Unchristian," the next we're serving soup at Food and Friends. And, of course, it would seem that the greatest polarization is that of how people view the Obama administration versus how they feel about Bush's.

A reporter down the hall in my newsroom was having a rather loud phone conversation on Tuesday night.

"It's all Bush's fault and that's the case" he said, in his usual high-pitched Irish accent. "What? there are still people in your newsroom that are positive? No one, and I mean no one, here likes him anymore."

It was his accent that made me start out laughing, but I began to think a little more seriously as the conversation continued, and I realized that he was illustrating for me what I have been learning in class about the market dictating journalism.

"Hits seem to go up when I'm bashing Bush, but of course he's not there to bash anymore," he said.

As I thought about how much commonality most people seem to find in Bush-bashing, I thought about a conversation I listened to on Saturday as I walked with a group to the archives.

Someone mentioned how hard it would be to find a t-shirt for Bush in this town.

He kept going, "could you even find a bush fan in this town?"

Two people piped up: "we are."

"I really liked him," someone else said.

"You're idiots," my roommate sneered.

The same people with such polarized views about our presidents were soon ooh-ing and aaah-ing over the same Magna Carta, Declaration of Independence and Constitution that have brought us all to where we are, and give us the freedom to polarize ourselves if we should wish to do so.

I caught polarization in myself this week. With Obama out of town, I walked around with a bit of a rain cloud over my head. I hated feeling like there was no chance of spotting him anywhere during my day.

I don't remember even thinking about Bush when I visited D.C. five years ago.

Even our weekly dinners at school, where we gather and eat in the same room, feel polarized at times. This week, we were on pins and needles waiting to hear about the stimulus package.

"Hello Great Depression number two" said one friend, when we talked about what would happen if it did not pass.

"I don't want it to" said his roommate, sitting beside him.

They left together to watch a movie, and I thought about Saturday again.

That's the beauty of living in America. Here, in the Capitol city, we can be as separate as we wish to, and yet, somehow, we all end up coming together.

Christ in the face of How Washington Loves Obama

In a city that trumpets change at every turn, billboard and subway advertisement, a call has rung out for honest coverage of the now idolized Obama administration.

Things felt so one sided that Time Magazine felt the need to featured this article.

The March for Life was here in DC a few weeks ago. I missed it because I was working at a soup kitchen outside of central DC.

On my way home from the kitchen, a little boy walking past me in Union Station yelled "Vote for life not Obama!" I watched a few heads turn. Feeling ashamed of the image he was portraying, I couldn't help but want to quiet him. I wanted everyone around him to know that not all Christians polarize political issues like that. I wanted to say that Jesus wasn't just a moralistic code, that he didn't have a political party. I wanted to tell the little boy not to make a sensitive situation more sensitive.

Along the 7 block walk home, my friends and I discussed the need for caution as those representing Christ in a place where people have fallen in love with a man that has given them hope, promised them newness of life and provided them what they believe to be concrete evidence he can pull it off.

A fellow WJCer mentioned that what that little boy yelled was morality, rather than Jesus. Jesus was concious of his culture while preaching truth that, in itself, appeared as foolishness "to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of God" (1 Corinthians 1:18 NASB).

If one is to ever have a voice in a city fallen head over heels with a president that has taken a strong stance on issues such as abortion, there is a need for speech "with grace, as though seasoned with salt, so that you will know how you should respond to each person" (Colossians 4:6 NASB).

*Picture taken by Sarah Breen

The Sacrificial Daschle

Really how hard is it to turn in your taxes?

For two of Obama's cabinet nominees to withdraw over tax reasons - this is not a good way to start off the presidency. It makes me question what kind of people Obama is choosing to put into official positions. These people were going to be helping run our country, but they weren't honest in their own dealings with the government - something as basic as paying taxes. I understand wanting to save money, but these two probably make more than I will ever make in my whole entire life. I don't think they exactly need money.

However, the whole scandal did restore my faith in the American government a bit. Despite the fact that these two officials were dishonest with their money, at least they owned up to the fact that they had been dishonest. If they can't be honest about their finances, at least they were willing to be honest about their dishonesty in front of the entire country. And world.

This gives me hope. Perhaps people think that the new administration needs to start off with a clean slate. No drama, no scandal.

Of course Obama is frustrated.

“And so I’m frustrated with myself, with our team,” he told NBC, “but ultimately my job is to get this thing back on track because what we need to focus on is a deteriorating economy and getting people back to work.”

But maybe he should be considering the fact that these people wanted him to succeed so much that they embarrassed themselves and took a major hit in their political career so he would make a real difference.

Now, that could be considered a sacrifice.

Inauguration is for Stories

Our WJC Director Terry Mattingly welcomed us to what he called "a city of stories" at the beginning of Saturday night's orientation events. He warned that we would be tempted to believe that all the stories in DC can be found on Capitol Hill or in the business district, to be discovered somewhere between perfect ties and glamorous nights out. Warning turned to exhortation as he told us of the stories that exist in the edge of crowds and in the less fortunate places of this city. Those stories are just as important.

My group left at about 7 a.m. hoping to see the country’s biggest story up close and personal. That hope starting waning at about 8 o’clock on D Street, when I stood squished somewhere between a van and a sedan that had turned off their engines.

Two hours later, we left the middle of a stationary line to thaw out with a cup of coffee at the Hard Rock Cafe. Cold and full of lost hope, I asked the gentleman beside me where he was from. "New Hampshire," he told me, "and my friend is from South Carolina." I nodded. "Are you disappointed you didn't get in after traveling so far?" I asked. His answer changed my day. "It's ok. We're here," he said. "People ask me why I'm here, and I say 'because it's here. This is history. I'm here for it.'"

He left me with warm regards, making room at the counter for two Canadian women. I asked them why they were here. They said that they hadn’t been alive for historical inaugurations in America’s past, and wanted to come for this one because, “this is huge for our generation,” they said.

The Hard Rock Cafe started closing, much to the protests of the Canadians, who quickly recovered and said they would watch "in a bar somewhere." As we all left they wished us well and smiled - regardless of having traveled this far only to end up watching Obama's moment on TV.

Around 10:30 we wound up packed into the National Press Building food court with what must have been at least 200 African Americans. The girl behind me said she arrived on a train from New York last night, but didn't seem upset at being stuck in a food court any more than my new friends at Hard Rock were at being holed up in a bar. As shots of Obama began coming up on the screen, the crowd around me roared, cried, and chanted

O-ba-ma! O-ba-ma! Yes we did!

Tears rolled down the faces around me as Obama spoke of history, freedom and America’s long road to equality. The big story today may have taken place at the Capitol building, but I looked back across the food court after Obama’s speech, and saw the stories that put him where he is today. Just behind me a white woman and black man stood together holding twin babies. They were crying, laughing and kissing the babies. I watched as the man looked up and pointed towards the sky, mouthing a thank you to God.

In that moment I realized it didn't matter where one flew in from, or how long one had sat on a train to end up watching a TV screen, it was the stories of the people here, coupled with the stories of those who had fought for their freedom, that gave them the emotion and joy to make today an experience that was anything but disappointing.

Best yet! and others

Well I have officially seen the best documentary of my life, and the best film of Sundance thus far. A film called “The Cove” about the merciless slaughter of thousands of dolphins on the coast of a Japanese town called Taiji. The film was edgy, prepared like a special ops investigation with a hodge-podge group of tech savvy superstars who devise a way to break into a hidden cove and expose a horrific animal rights travesty. The film was exciting, and threatening, and in the end, absolutely inspiring. It was horrific, and quite scary. The Taiji government was going out of their way to cover up the crime, and had prevented any outside news coverage of the slaughter for years. The films goal was to expose the slaughter, and put an end to it.
The crew sneaked into the heavily guarded cove under the cover of darkness and placed hidden HD cameras to cover the entire day. The hidden footage was unbelievable. The most raw and disturbing display of animal abuse I’d ever seen, we watched as a group of fisherman brutally killed thousands of dolphins with old fashion spears from a boat. One of the cameras was under water, and the shot of the water changing from clear blue to deep, dark, blood red is an image that will stick with me for a long, long time.
This film will make it out of Sundance, and be seen in the future. There is no way it can’t. It received five standing ovations, and is talked about more than any other picture.
I’ve never cared so much about flippin' dolphins.

I saw two other films yesterday. A UK picture named “Unmade Beds” and John from the Office’s directorial debut “Brief Interviews with Hideous Men.” Both films were quality in their own right, but "Brief Interviews" sticks with me more. I still can’t decide if I liked it. The film was trying new things, and made huge statements about feminism, male dominance and corruption, and the impossibility of love. But I’m not quite sure what the things were it was saying. I like a film that sticks with me, and for that reason alone, “Interviews” was a success.
“Unmade Beds” was an indie-kids dream. It told the story of rich kids in England living thrift store junkie lives, and abusing love and relationships day and night. It was pretentious for sure, but I bought it. It was shot really well, and the story arch of the two main characters was unique and unexpected. Highlight of the film – the only thing any indie was seen eating was a bowl of cereal,for the whole film cheerios were their diet - that and they never drank water, only beer and hard liquor.
Party.

The films continue

Two more films experienced. Short Docs and the wonderful "Sin Nombre." The shorts performance for docs was a little disappointing, to be honest. I saw short Docs last year, and they were some of my best films. This year was not the same. Two of the short Docs were interesting, but as a whole, it did not leave me inspired. One of them, called “Utopia: Pt. 3” was about the biggest mall in the world. It is in China, and twice the size as the Mall of America. It was built in an area of China that is not connected to any freeways, and is a tiny, undeveloped town. Therefore, no one is going to the mall. In fact, there are only twelve shops open for business in the entire complex. The film was full of epic isolation shots – completely empty hallways, and vacant storefronts. It was eerie. Besides that, the Docs were a disappointment.

"Sin Nombre," on the other hand, was incredible. A film about immigration from Honduras all the way through Mexico and into the United States, "Sin Nombre" was every bit a real depiction of the struggle. Immigrants would travel on the tops of trains all the way across the Mexican countryside. The film was so real, and heavy. It was hard to watch. It was the prototypical Sundance film. "Sin Nombre" forced viewers to be real with a real situation. This is happening. Right now, its happening.
People are dying in the desert, falling off trains, being exploited
– and some actually make it to the States.
It’s hard to swallow.
The film really moved me.

$ 10,000 request

Dan Parris has an important meeting today, in his quest at Sundance to get funding for his film. He will sit down with the Priddy Brothers, who are producers connected with Christian filmmakers. Dan will show some of his collected footage, and his impressive trailer to the Producers, with hopes to land a 10,000-dollar grant from them, the final sum he needs to fund the trip to Africa. It’s the best opportunity he has had thus far to make the money happen, and he is confident that good things that good things can come from the meeting. Check out Dan’s ongoing Sundance Blog at Conversantlife.com to see daily video updates of his progress.

500 Days of Summer

Film Three – 500 Days of Summer.” Absolutely loved it. Everything about it worked, and worked well. Zoeey was incredible. The writing was sharp, and witty. The cinematography was beautiful, even the soundtrack was prime.
“Summer” was essentially a romantic comedy for dudes. It presented a relationship horror story that every guy could relate too. I found myself putting a girl from my own life in the female character position, and she fit the ups and downs, and ultimate depression of the relationship with eerie accuracy. All the guys I saw it with said the same thing happened with them. It was almost tough to watch, because it often felt so real. What was so memorable, and makes this film unique was that it had very playful and experimental bits throughout. There was a ridiculous dance number in the middle of the film, and countless quirky moments. But it all worked, and left me and my friends who’d seen it wanting to watch it again. Luckily, for everyone at home, this film was studio made and will play in limited release in July. You’ve got to see it. I mean, you just must.

When unity snuck up on me

“I would describe it as an outpouring of brotherhood and a wonderful flow of positive sentiment and a great, great day,” 50-year-old Ken Straus of New York City said to me, gesturing to the masses surrounding us on the fields of the National Mall hours before President Obama was inaugurated.

To my surprise, I wholeheartedly agreed.

Nothing could have prepared me for today. I expected the hour of weaving through congested crowds that make a John Mayer concert look like child’s play. I expected the bridges and streets and highways to look like they would crumble and fall to the earth’s core under the weight of the determined travelers’ heavy feet. I expected the street vendors selling Obama memorabilia in every form imaginable. I expected the various Christian groups passing out tracts. I expected deafening cheers, thousands of portable toilets and the freezing cold air.

Well, maybe I lied a little bit about the last one. I knew it would be cold, but I was not prepared for the frigidity that would numb my bundled-up body to the point that I could only lift my feet several inches from the ground before stiffness took over. The man giving out free hot coffee samples on the walk back from the inauguration was an absolute saint. Nonetheless, my multiple layers of clothing gave away some foreknowledge of the cold I would face.

What I did not expect was unity.

Yes, I grew up chanting “One nation, under God, indivisible,” but many Americans don’t give the impression of being proud that they bleed red, white and blue. Maybe I was just focusing too much on the pessimism in this nation, but I definitely saw a lot of division and very little unity. Abortion. Gay marriage. The war. Health care. Money. Money. Money. Angry, shouting, hostile sign-waving protesters.

Division.

But not today. Today I couldn’t have agreed more with Straus’ statement. As I began talking with some of the people around me, I began to see that they were truly proud to be Americans in this day and age and exuberant to be part of something so monumental. When I asked 29-year-old Javeriah Haleem what she was looking forward to most about Obama being in office, she quickly responded “A change in the way we’re viewed around the world and a change in the way we feel about the country right now.”

If today was a taste of this shifting pride among our nation’s citizens, fill my cup.

As a crowd of 2 million, we celebrated by singing and dancing to “Shout” and “American Pie.” We waved American flags high and cheered on our newly elected president. We contemplated the leaps and bounds our nation has made in a matter of decades, so much so that a man who’s father might have been refused service as a result of his race is now the president of the United States. We prayed together for our nation and for President Obama to have wisdom and integrity and courage. Regardless of any person’s political leanings, I think that the longing for the guidance of the president elect by the Almighty God is something that he or she can be passionate about. That can unify.

As I stood today in the icy DC air, sneaking a peek at the thousands of heads bowed in reverence around me, I couldn’t help but think to myself that this is the way God wants a nation to be. As I listened to the occasional “Amen!” and the person behind me repeating Rick Warren’s prayer word-for-word, I couldn’t help but realize that God is not dead in America and that He will touch more hearts than we could ever know. As I heard thousands of people recite the Lord’s Prayer, I couldn’t help but marvel at the greatness of our God, the One who will one day bring eternal unity.

He will unify.

Just Another Day in the Capital City - NOT

"Why are you actin' like you know where you're goin'?" was a wife's sassy remark to her husband this morning as thousands of completely lost but thoroughly determined travelers, like myself, tried to find their way to The National Mall to watch the inauguration.

And NONE of us knew where we were going. No matter how much we thought we did.

Volunteers in red beanies were our only beacons of hope, holding signs that said "Mall this way" - and they were surprisingly upbeat. But that was a recurring theme at the disgusting hour of 6:30 a.m. At the time I would regularly be grumpy and non-verbal, everyone was upbeat and excited - and it spilled over. There was so much energy in the air that I couldn't help but let the anticipation slowly melt away the fact that I had woken up far too early and not gotten any caffeine.

It was all worth it. Once the initial "grumps" were over, I realized I was experiencing a once in a lifetime opportunity. So were hundreds of thousands of other people. But it became fun instead of dreaded.

I really blame the hot chocolate kid for making my grumpiness disappear. As my group and I were walking down Maryland Ave., we passed a young teen boy selling hot chocolate in front of his house. I was so highly impressed by this level of entrepreneurship and enterprise that this young guy had, I couldn't help but see hope for the future of the country. Apparently, that's all I needed.

Although, actually purchasing a cup of the hot chocolate might have helped even more.

But it turns out I didn't need too much help. Between trampling all the foliage in the greater DC area and trying to find a "Hello my fellow American, my name is..." nametag with Obama's face on it, I didn't have time to be grumpy or irritable. There was patriotism and a turning of the tide in the air!

I'm going to make the assumption that you watched the inauguration, or at least have seen a little bit about it. If you haven't, I would recommend getting on that ASAP. It was pretty cool.

There was even cooler stuff that went on in the crowds. Around 8 a.m., they played the video footage for the poor freezing people (like myself) from the concert in front of the Lincoln Memorial that happened on Sunday. This resulted in full crowd sing-a-longs to "Shout" by the Temptations and "American Pie." You haven't sung "American Pie" until you're belting it with hundreds of thousands of your fellow Americans.

It was also extremely exciting to find myself smashed between people that were literally touching me in every direction possible. You can't get that experience while watching the inauguration in your living room. The lady behind me kept pulling my hair. I have no idea how this was happening - it just meant that she was way closer than she should have been in a normal circumstance. And if anyone in the middle ever needed to go to the bathroom, they fought their way out, parting people like they were parting the Red Sea. Not an easy task on either side, believe me. And it occurred only too often. I became very friendly with the people around me.

And these people were electrified! I heard a number thrown around that nearly 92 percent of Washington, D.C. voted for Barack Obama. That makes this one very happy city, and that doesn't even include the numbers of people who traveled from outside of Washington, D.C. to be there for this historic day. Everyone there genuinely wanted to be there and they were happy with what was happening. A little too happy, considering the amount of "boo"s that Bush got every time his face was on the Jumbotron.

But my favorite moment had to have been at the end of Rick Warren's absolutely beautiful and fitting prayer, when he began to say the Lord's Prayer. To my absolute shock and wonder, people all around me began to join in with his prayer, saying the words perfectly. I joined in myself. And we, representing the nation, lifted the Obama family up to the Lord in the way that we are supposed to pray - the way we were taught to pray. It was breathtaking. I hadn't expected so much religion and spirituality to be present among the people of this celebration.

So apparently, religion is still very relevant, wouldn't you say?

Dan's Dream

Dan Parris, a Biola grad has big dreams. He wants to make a documentary about him and a friend who plan to go to Africa and live on a dollar a day. He is passionate, and believes in the story. He is here at Sundance, trying to raise 10,000 dollars to make it happen. Dan puts his cards all over the place and passionately seeks conversations with anyone and everyone. At the “Meet the Funders” which I attended, Dan may have made the connection he needed.
He gave his pitch, and after finishing, the woman at his table told him with a pointed finger to stay after and talk to him. This kind of thing didn’t happen at any other tables the whole day. He told woman afterwards what he needed, and she gave him three phone numbers of people she said would help him. It’s a huge breakthrough, and he is elated.
“I feel like sometimes when its crunch time, your mind starts going, you speak eloquently, and its not even you.,” Dan said after the experience was over. “My mouth was running separate from my mind.”
Dan felt like God was with him in the experience, and guided his words.
“Let yourself be passionate, people are attracted to it,” he said.
Dreams slowly realized in the snowy hills of Park City. Just another day at Sundance.

Meet the Funders

So I just left a round table meeting with representatives from PBS and Sundance, where I pitched my documentary about recovering sex offenders. It was the most real film situation I have ever experienced, and it was exhilarating. Josiah pitched the story as well, and both of us got very positive feedback. But just the experience of sitting around a table and hearing everyone’s brilliant story ideas was so inspiring. I have never felt more comfortable with speaking about myself and my projects in my life, and I love it.
I didn’t make a deal or anything, far from it really, but the experience alone inspires me to be a part of documentary filmmaking. I have always wondered what my place is in the film world; this seemed to show me a direction like I’d never seen before.
So it goes at Sundance.

Unexpected

Sundance is best experienced when you embrace the unexpected. The best-unexpected moment thus far - Damien Rice. I had no idea he would be here, but the music café on Main St. is known to bring in some big names. And this year, it certainly delivered.
As the sun went down and the air got significantly colder, (thank God I wore double wool socks) hundreds of people packed into a tent at the bottom of the Main St. hill. I sat outside for 45 cold minutes, not able to visibly catch the first few songs. But the line pushed in and I experienced Rice in all his glory. It was just him and his guitar, but he had little trouble filling the space with passion and intensity. He played mostly songs from his early record, (which I was happy about) and told funny anecdotes in between. It was charming.
But his closing song is what will stick with me for a long while. Beginning with a heartfelt rendition of his own Cold Water, Rice flowed into a cover of Hallelujah. He slowed it down and belted out the first three verses of the Buckley tune, in a moving fashion. It was inspirational and borderline spiritual, especially when the whole audience joined into the chorus of Hallelujah. I closed my eyes, in a beautiful unison of voices, and smiled. Unexpected, overjoyed.
So it goes at Sundance.

Second Sundance showing

Second film, "Adam." A beautiful narrative about a man with Asbergers disorder. It’s a love story, but sensitive to the condition. Maybe its indie cliché to have a mentally challenged main character, but this film pulled it off. There was smart humor, raw emotion, and relatable love. The credits rolled and I was left wanting more. The actor playing Adam (Hugh Dancey) was terribly believable, and honestly, cute. I bought it from his first second on screen.

Two successful films seen.

The next film is not until tomorrow night, "500 days of summer." Zoeey Deshcanel in a leading role... yeah. I’m not ... that excited ...
Lies lies lies.

The Buzz

There is this phenomenon called the Sundance Buzz. It’s a beautiful thing. See, because the bus system is used by everyone at the festival, including big wigs (Tarantino) and nobodies (me), talk of the best and worst films spreads like wildfire. No matter what you come wanting to see, you will know whether or not to look forward to seeing it pretty quick. The film you thought you’d hate, you’ll hear is a can’t miss, while the one you were pining for turns out a real fart. It can be very frustrating. Sometimes you are stuck with a film that plain sucks.

So far I haven’t heard of any loser tickets in my possession, but I hear there are a few that I can’t see that are supposedly life-changing.
So it goes in Sundance.

SUNDANCE BEGINS!

Park City, Utah. It's winter, finally. But the snow that sits has been here for a few weeks, nothing fresh on the floor. The air is warm, and the films are hot.
Honestly, I can't believe I'm here again. Its overwhelming, all the emotions. I just can't wait to see films.
First film down, “The Missing Person,” a modern film noir. A great main character carried the movie. The story left me with something but I’m not sure what just yet. I especially loved the emotion of a scene toward the end of the film that lacked dialogue, merely showing the main character struggling through his own twisted thoughts while listening to a dirty jazz sax solo. It was moving.

There are already great conversations on the bus and in line. I met a funder from Japan who got a big promotion for picking up Blair Witch Project for dirt cheap back in the day. She feels the heat now, looking for the next big break. Also met an intern for the Sundance Institute held a great conversation on the way to a film. She loved to hear about my interests and goals, and loved to talk film.
Ambitions long dormant for me come flooding back to the surface. So many projects, careers, lives, on the verge of being made or lost here. It's inspiration, it’s exciting and it's unpredictable.

So good to be back.