Nos Populus and American University

I have a complicated relationship with my alma mater.  I met my wife at American University (off campus, but still).  I met most of my current friends either at AU or through friends from there.  The education I got has granted me opportunities I never could've dreamed and though most of those dreams were deferred, it's hard to blame the lousy economy on one college.  On the other hand, Ben Ladner.  And while I'm convinced that my present distaste for politics stems directly from my experiences there, I'm not sure whether that would've happened otherwise.  Or whether that was necessarily a bad thing. 

One thing I can say for sure: if I don't attend AU, Nos Populus never gets written.  The writing classes helped, of course.  Ditto the lit classes (I nearly could've minored in lit).  And my poly-sci major expanded my then-fairly shallow understanding of policy, strategy, theory, history, and all the other vague, indefinable aspects of political studies that make sensible minds go numb and turn decent people into overly-ambitious, image-obsessed, wanna-be pols.  See, for Nos Populus to be possible, I had to understand its targets. 

That's what primed me for the writing of the book: my fellow students--often it seemed the entire student body--who could shotgun whole seasons of The West Wing without irony once shaking them by the shoulders for their own good (none of them wanted to be Jed Bartlet, by the way--they all wanted to be Josh Lyman).  The 19-year-olds studying poly-sci at Washington DC's third most renowned college, convinced they'd run for president one day (and in an awful parallel universe, I'm sure many of them will).  The posturing ideologues, huffily turning class discussions into recital competitions of Democratic or Republican talking points that had been emailed to them that morning.  The way Democrats so far outnumbered Republicans as to make it kind of disgusting, until young Republicans learned how to be louder and more obnoxious--mistaking their minority status as proof of their persecuted righteousness, the way teenagers will.  The way a select few of them always managed to take it further than the rest, procuring the business cards and polished resumes listing one summer job and misinterpreting this behavior as "maturity."  The way I was very nearly one of them. 

Of course, most of the student body tended to shake this off toward the end of freshman year; those who were still in the throes of the culture through sophomore year were terminal cases: future Tucker Carlsons, on their way to the big, wide world, which they were already prepared to make vomit on impact.  But some of the scars remain.

It was natural fodder material.  Ozzie Vega, one of James Reso's right hand men, is straight out of the place.  His backstory--bizarre though it may seem--is a true story from AU (identities changed to protect the innocent-ish).  He's granted a shot at a redemption of sorts, as these stories require, and his choices are his own.  But I sometimes wonder how much my negative feelings toward too many of my fellow students impacted Ozzie's ultimate chances.  It's probably why I created Deacon Bell, another of James' aides and my own version of a genuine DC native: not a naif, but neither one of the bustling hoards, ever-scrambling for the attention of someone who can help move them up the ladder.  Someone who never had a chance at going to a school as good as that.  Someone who wants to make a real difference and for whom ego is a little more than a byproduct of end results.  The anti-AU.

I don't know that I'll ever be in a position to donate money to my former school.  But, if Nos Populus ever achieves any kind of financial success, well, it would seem rude not to pay back some credit to its most integral influence.