jords on jords.

Here’s another piece that came out today, over at iPolitics.ca: http://www.ipolitics.ca/2012/02/23/jordan-owens-welcome-to-the-political-sphere-facebook-generation/

I’m really liking this writing thing.

So I totally forgot to mention that 2012 is off to a great start.

In January, I did some work for Maclean’s with my dear friend and partner-in-crime, Adam Goldenberg.  You should check it out here: http://www2.macleans.ca/category/blog-central/anonymous-liberal-sources/

Additionally, work is good, life is good, things are good.

Once again, I find myself at the end of another year. Physically and mentally exhausted, I’m grateful for the opportunity to turn the calendar to a fresh start. I’ll be honest with you, internets, 2011’s been a real sack of shit. 

Yet despite everything — the past 12 (let’s be honest, 18) months of loss, agony and heartbreak — I find myself unable to say it’s all been for nought.  Bookending each nightmare has been things for which I am truly thankful: the constant reminders that there are people in the world who love me. The knowledge that everything hurts less with time. Gaining the confidence in myself to know that no matter how bad things get, I’ll come back swinging. Plus, what I’m sure will be the ongoing theme in my life: [almost] everything is hilarious if you want to look at it that way. I do.

So thanks, 2011.  If anything, you’ve put me in a place where I have no capacity to feel shame, and taught me that there’s no reason to fear failure. 

2012 will be great. (Or not; I probably just jinxed it.)

I don’t think it is news to anyone who exists in Canada that the Liberal Party was decimated in the May 2011 federal election. But I’d like to thank outgoing Liberal Party President Alf Apps for the reminder in today’s National Post, and for the knowledge that he thinks we’re all a bunch of lazy bums who ruined a once-great institution. 

Despite the blanket accusations that Mr. Apps feels it is appropriate to publicly throw at his employees, volunteers and membership, politics is no business for the lazy.  Even when you fail miserably, you move mountains if they’re standing in your way.  Working in politics is 7:00am to 11:00pm every day of your life, sleeping with your phone next to your face each night, missing out on milestones, not expecting there’s ever truly a time when you’re “out of the office” kind of work. Emotionally and physically draining, for little pay and almost no recognition beyond the knowledge in the back of your mind that some days, you might have done something good for someone, somewhere. Here’s hoping.

And yet I’ve never heard a political staffer or campaign volunteer complain about any of that.  It’s what we signed up for.  Doing something good for Canadians is what we wake up in the morning to do and what we go to sleep at night thinking about. This isn’t a Liberal trait, by the way.  I believe it is universal across all the parties.

But back to our Liberal woes: Maybe folks on the Bay St. cocktail circuit think we’re all an “aging and self-satisfied crowd of insiders preoccupied by long faded glories and still-festering rivalries,” and — even more insulting — “lazy.” Fine.  They are entitled to their opinions.

However, all the reasons Mr. Apps cited for our downfall (not reaching out to grow and cement our base, failing to modernize our technology, being terrible fundraisers, not doing the things our opponents have been doing, instituting a cult of leadership, etc.), perhaps these could have been things he addressed during his Presidency? He had two years to change the culture of the party. Two years, and all we’ve got to show for it is 100 pages of recommendations (released to the media before the membership, I’d like to point out) and a bunch of desperate-sounding headlines.

I believe it is possible to have thoughtful, consultative discussions about organizational reform without the overly dramatic flair that only serves to reinforce perceptions that the Liberal Party of Canada is a group of power-hungry headline chasers who have been reduced to self-flagellation to stay in the news. Close the Peter C. Newman songbook, delete next week’s column, stop appearing on TV to tout your renewal plan, roll up your sleeves and let’s get to work.

Randomly started thinking about that one time I got dumped for a Paultard.

Even when things seem like they are the worst, they are still more hilarious than I ever could have imagined.

The election happened; now it’s all over but the shredding. Here’s three snapshots of the aftermath:

Election night was a cruel rewind on a smaller scale; watching people’s reactions, knowing what they were thinking about, feeling empathetic but oddly detached. Losing isn’t as bad if you just expect that you’ll feel like shit on election night.  Also, I don’t know what winning feels like.

We went to Alaska this weekend.  I should have done that after the federal election. Fly fishing is way better than making terrible life decisions because at the end of the day if you fail at fishing, you just don’t have any fish.

Driving back to Whitehorse, I turned on the radio and heard the federal campaign song. This song has become my own personal reminder of the precarious grip we sometimes have on success. It is also a terrible song. This time, I heard it and realized every moment in my life, every decision I ever made, everything I ever accomplished or failed at had led me to right now, where I was [still] unemployed and driving a pickup truck full of rocks from Haines to Whitehorse. After deciding whether to laugh, cry, or do neither (I chose neither), I continued driving.  What other option was there?

Do not let the depressing post-election woes expressed in this blog post make you think I did not enjoy my time in Whitehorse.  Second only to moving to Canada initially, coming here is probably the best decision I ever made.  I’m deciding what to do next, and I will update you all accordingly.