The title of tonight's entry comes from "Quickness," a poem by Henry Vaughan, who apparently was one of the Metaphysical poets of the 17th century. (Thank you, Bartleby.com!)

Ah, the aftermath of a Debate tournament. If I were still competing, rather than judging (I've been forced to do so since I graduated, unfortunately, as Cal Poly doesn't have a team), I'd be kicking off my uncomfortable dress shoes, undoing my tie as best I could, and slumping in a comfy chair to recuperate. But as a judge, I'm fortunate enough to be able to dress just about any way I want to (in flip-flops and a Hawaiian shirt, if the impulse ever seized me) — I'm just wearing jeans, a button-down shirt, and my Converse, which I think I can handle for the moment.

I honestly enjoy going to tournaments, even if not as a participant. The sheer number of people you meet is staggering, and there's something about the general hustle-and-bustle that appeals to me. Also, being the weathered veteran that I am in the world of Debate, I've noticed an interesting phenomenon that seems unique to Debate tournaments: casual formality. A contradiction, you say? Perhaps. But what would you call a large group of high school students wearing $400 Armani suits and ratty, fluffy blue slippers, all sprawled about between rounds dozing on blankets? It fascinates me to see these people — most of them future lawyers and MBAs — discussing the political ramifications of a high-level ideological critique one minute, napping on the floor using a jacket as a makeshift pillow the next, and eating greasy Debate tournament food ("Let's give them something that would shoot through their digestive tract like Teflon even if they weren't nervous and under stress!") while dashing to their next round, jawing amiably about marine protection areas and coral reefs.

This weekend my old high school and I attended a tournament at Cypress College; I was lucky enough today to see Robyn, the lovely young woman I met at the same tournament this time last year. We chatted as best we could between her competing in rounds and I judging them, but I'm afraid that we weren't able to talk as much as I would have liked, nor was I able to give her a proper goodbye when we left. (If you read this, Robbie, it was wonderful seeing you again, however briefly — I'm only sorry I couldn't find you to bid you farewell.) I also met some new people, mainly through judging their rounds, and saw some familiar faces as well. Debate tournaments, you'll find, are prime social opportunities: a large group of intelligent, outgoing, and generally talkative people coming together to show their mettle and compete (usually in a friendly manner, sometimes not) with their fellows.

Unfortunately, I have some responsibilities yawning ahead of me, so I must get off for now; I'll let you all go, pretending as if I actually said anything interesting enough to keep you reading. Until next we meet, my friends, I say adieu.

[Exit Orpheum.]