Who was that?

I looked at some personal files from years back. Thank you Gmail for archiving my awkwardly developing writing hobby. While Facebook puts our meaningless daily activities and embarrassing pictures in the public sphere for friends to see, you, Gmail, hide away our past but allow us to bring it screaming back with your unlimited storage space and "search mail" function.

You know, I used to write. I used to write like an analogy I can no longer write. I used to study the places of my life with eyes, nose, hands and heart and put it all on paper. My words will be around to haunt me for years. When I'm gone at the ripe age of 92, my words might haunt the young collegians who haven't yet arrived.

Don't write anything down if you don't want to read it yourself when you're not the same person you were when you wrote it. Or maybe you should. Just know that it's not always pretty. Life moves.

Breaking a tie

Carolina controlled its own road to the Orange Bowl going into Saturday's game against Maryland, but the Tar Heels lost. We almost won, but we did not deserve to be in the game.

Yesterday's loss all but dashes our hopes for a trip to the ACC Championship and Orange Bowl. I found an article that explains the few scenarios in which Carolina would win a trip to Tampa. I can't take it seriously now, but it's a good resource in case things fall into place again. This has been the season of many chances. Anything could happen.

Simple

I finally found a regular card game. I lost, so I think they will welcome me back in the future. They play a moderate dealer's choice, so I learned to play Omaha Hi-Lo and Stud Hi-Lo on the fly. This was a bad financial decision, a good social decision and an excellent learning decision.

"You're only down four?" the host asked when I decided to leave. "Not too bad." I suppose I did OK despite forgetting thrice the one rule of Omaha they warned me not to forget: you can't play more than two hole cards. Idiot.

If students won or lost money based on course performance, education would work. I suppose students do win or lose future earnings, but that argument rarely works as a motivational tool. They need to see those chips, the plastic value holders that instantly show the power that comes and goes with knowledge and ignorance. Apathetic students might cling to the belief that nothing really matters and fold at every opportunity, but the antes would eat them alive.

"I'm sorry, Johnny," I would say in such a setting. "The blinds have gone up this semester, so now you're down to the felt. Would you like to rebuy with a loan? We'll put you on the juice."

Goodness is poker simple. I will play free online Omaha and Stud before retiring because you have to do your homework to be successful on the test.

It could happen to us

No. 17 Carolina will go to the ACC Championship if Virginia Tech loses one more game and we win our last three. The Hokies play at long-time rival Miami Thursday evening. The Hurricanes are the Hokies' biggest remaining threat since the Hokies will play Duke and Virginia at home in the final two weeks.

I know we have to handle our business first, but the Miami game is Thursday night. We can't handle our business first. We'll need to wear some green and orange (and blue) and be real fans in an ACC game without the Tar Heels because we are now a part of the picture.

The truth feels good

I found a delicious article in The Chronicle, the Duke student newspaper. The columnist unsurprisingly wrote that she wants to be a Tar Heel instead of a Blue Devil. She can't. It's sort of a commitment.

But I'm glad she got a taste.

Election

I forgot to vote early Saturday. The polls closed at 1 p.m., so a friendly canvasser rang my doorbell at 12:50.

"Are you going to vote early?" he asked.

"I guess not," I said. I was so glad he came to my door to remind me to vote. How refreshing it was to see democracy as a simple thing like punching a chad or touching a screen. It seemed so easy. But I doubt voting is the litmus test for democracy.

I was passionate about politics at times in the past decade, but my guys kept losing. My girls did too. I learned my votes did not make a difference but that I might change the world in other ways. So I taught. I tried to be a rock when I could have rolled.

"It's supposed to be hard," Jimmy Dugan explained to a tired Dottie Hinson in A League of Their Own. "If it wasn't hard, everyone would do it. The hard is what makes it great." Anyone can vote, but at least one candidate this season has the sense to know that Americans have to sweat to make freedom for each other. Democracy is not about the guy in charge. It's about empowering the people to be in charge. The right to vote is necessary for democracy but not defining. Democracy is selfless. Democracy should be selfless even for the president.

Carter and Kennedy knew all this and told us so. True leaders do not give; they demand. Drew Carey said the American dream was to make money while sitting on one's ass, and maybe it is for a lot of people. But those people don't defend democracy. They sit on their asses.

So, in the words of Jimmy Dugan, use the lump three feet above your ass to vote tomorrow because you can. Then do something good.

Who set my sun?

The sun went down early today. I forget who is responsible for this shift in time. Was it Congress? Was it God? Only a capitalized entity could make my bedroom a dreary place before 6 p.m. I would give my hour back for a little sunshine in the early evening hours.

Bored

Today I will write the petulant complaint of a bored twentysomething avoiding a day's work without pay. My kids tested poorly, but I cannot bring myself to finish grading them. I woke up hours ago looking for any distraction: college football wrap up, online poker, an irrelevant book about the horror of fatherhood and a back massage tool that can only be used for the chest and stomach when alone.

I am hungry. I would like to eat a heaping plate of Allen & Son barbecue while watching Carolina Rewind with friends. I could do something resembling this if I finish all my work before 6:30 p.m. We'll see. First I'll have to stop writing and shower.

I wanted to go to the Cat's Cradle alone for the first time on Halloween. That might sound like an extension of boredom, but flying solo at the Cradle is not unusual. Instead a friend connected me with a free ticket and his sister. The Everybodyfields were my best MySpace whim yet.

Saturday I finally went to Fuse, a nighttime lounge for people like me in Chapel Hill. I avoided it for years because of its proximity to Nightlight, a kind of crummy music hall that recently changed ownership. The music was folksy. I will go again soon.

The Tar Heels are No. 19 and the highest-ranked ACC team. Whoa. It means nothing unless we win out.