battle weary

quite a week for this beleaguered warrior. on the surface, our wee campaign had a pretty good week: the u2 concerts and related west coast events yielded a surge in coverage and support, taking us that much closer to our goal of mainstreaming the campaign brand. bono was king of the canadian media for awhile, and we did our best to seize it. our tour contacts blogged rather positively, may i say, about how the campaign was received by u2 fans. behind the curtain, though, a festival of chaos continues to thrive thanks to ongoing lack of coordination. stressed interpersonal dynamics that were born of that very problem were in play during the frenzy. i’m tempted to just stop pressing for better organization. when will i get it through my head? i’m dealing with people so dazzled by five minutes of media attention that concerns about better coordination and efficiency are heard as only the maniacal ramblings of a killjoy.

speaking of maniacal, in an impressive display of pettiness and manipulation, someone orchestrated his very own coup in order to clear me from his path to power. and what an intoxicating power it must be, ruler of an empire like this dinky ndp riding association. after deciding i was the enemy because i had the audacity to ask him to just be a candidate and leave complex and critical issues like font and lumber to the minions, it seems the guy has spent the 12 months plotting my removal because clearly, i’m a dangerous element.

i guess i should be flattered… sorta like survivor when the ‘threat’ gets voted off the island. but now i’m trying to figure out how much i want to do with a party that would prioritize the immature whims of a self-serving candidate above supporting and defending skilled long-term party activists. thing is, our struggling wing lacks the capacity to provide that strategic support even if the wisdom for it did exist. so busy with the baby steps, there’s no way to propel (or even just prop up) the talent in our midst. sad fact when it’s we, the expendable foot soldiers, who are most likely to stick around and keep the joint open with duct tape and twine until the next time a flavour-of-the-month candidate’s name goes up in flashing neon. the rank and file who show up for grunt work whether there’s a chance of an electoral gain of 3 fucking % or not.

any sour grapes? i suppose i feel cornered, with a bit o' anxiety. too battle weary to bother brushing up on the art of war and too under-resourced to determine what a worthy battle even is. that's pretty much all areas of my life right now. i'm way past the fucking grapes. let's just say it's more like rancid wine... which uncorked into an evening of drunken release last night and spilled into a day of headachey lethargy today. can't wait to report for duty in the a.m.