Going to CPAC

This week I will be headed to Washington, D.C. for my first-ever Conservative Political Action Conference, or CPAC. This is a big deal for me.

I’ve never been one for “involvement” before – always been a very casual observer. Alright, fine: an obsessive observer. But I haven’t been deeply involved in debating and discussing politics since 2008, when I burnt out and ended this blog’s previous incarnation.

I stopped blogging for probably a year and a half. In May 2010, I pressed my wife into service designing this one. Truth be told, I am still nowhere near my previous level of output.

I wonder if this is perhaps because, in the WordPress wilderness, comments are few and far between (for me). Comments were how I measured my success at Vox. Responding to people and knowing they were reading inspired me to fire up the computer and give my take on the news.

The erraticĀ nature of this blog aside, I’ve maintained my presence on Twitter to the tune of 22,000 individual tweets. Pathetic, right? Wrong.

Twitter is arguably better than any website for purely interactive purposes. On Twitter, I can “meet” and interact with the people who inform my views on politics, religion and culture.

And now, I get to meet some of those people live, at CPAC.

To say I’m merely enthusiastic about this prospect is to do a disservice to the concept of understatement. I am thrilled to be educating myself, meeting Internet friends face to face, and possibly meeting people I’ve only ever seen on TV.

I’ve heard that the nightlife at CPAC is…vigorous. My goal is to conduct myself in such a way that I am not prevented from receiving Communion on Sunday. We shall see. All it will take is one drink that seems like a good idea at the time to put me over the edge.

I don’t know who I’m kidding – I will take that drink. But I will look good while I do it. One of the good things about being around conservatives is that my natural impulse to wear a tie will receive very few raised eyebrows. So often I go out on the town and find myself overdressed. I have no worries about fitting in with this crowd.

Well, if you’re lucky I might even decide to write up the notes I take at the conference. More than likely it will be a confusing mishmash of half-remembered drunken anecdotes.

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