Susan Orlean came to Pittsburgh last night and I met her! The woman who describes men by comparing them to sides of beef and who can add the word cracker and sparkle to any description, who traveled the world writing about female bull fighters and child beauty queens came to Pittsburgh! I bought Corey and I tickets for the event very early and we made a whole date out of it.
Corey drove the car (retrieved from the mechanic for only $350...with some lingering problems...) to Oakland and we planned to have a nice dinner at LuLu's noodles before walking over to the lecture. Only I got very nervous about time and being late and started to rock before they even brought us our water. My anal retentive need to be ten minutes early totally ruined dinner to the point where I was standing above him wearing my backpack as he crammed moo shoo pork in his mouth and glared at me. I was like a 5 year old child anxious about starting kindergarten. Only I was carrying a backpack full of books to sign and threatening to go in without him, taking the tickets with me. And we weren't even running late! Just not early. I was excited.
So then we found our seats and Susan started talking and everything was great. I had my perfect question all prepared for Q&A time: what was your first national publication and how did you pitch the editor of that publication?" Isn't that a good question? She didn't call on me! She took stupid, useless questions like "When did you know you were going to be a writer?" She even went over that in her talk. I was livid at the waste of question time. I had nothing to do but force my way to the front of the signing line and ask her myself. Out of turn!
Things were going well until there was a gas leak in the lecture hall and they moved Susan into the art museum. The neatly controlled line was released helter skelter into the masses who cut in line and herded toward her new post. I had to work very hard to regain my position. By this time two of my classmates were near me and (I think) slightly amazed (horrified?) at my frenzy to ask Susan Orlean a question. I finally got up to the front, holding my Post-It that Susan's aide wrote my name on to verify spelling and lack of personal interaction. I slid the book across the desk and smiled at her and froze! I almost dropped the ball, standing there speechless as she read from the Post-It. I started to back away, desperate, and finally blurted out my question all in one breath.
She laughed and told me the answer: A concert review for Rolling Stone. She kind of knew the editor and he called her for the piece. So there was her break. A concert review. I need to stop going to see writers and start paying attention to the music scene.
Tuesday, October 10, 2006
Sunday, October 08, 2006
The Perfect Weekend
This weekend was the best one I've had in eons. Which surprises me because it was chock full and should have been stressful in terms of getting work and chores done.
For starters, Pittsburgh beat Detroit in rugby for the first time. The game felt phenomenal. I don't know whether I had a great game or not, but it felt like the best I've played in years. I was focused and felt proud of myself for my decisions and support. I even carried the ball a few times. There is nothing like coming together with 14 other women to pull out an important victory. We played as a TEAM, united and it was awesome. I just sat on the grass afterward staring at everyone and trying to identify why it was I loved them all so much. Why do I do this thing that breaks my toes and hurts? Why is this game so amazing? I don't know, but I love my teammates and play for them and it was awesome to win with them this weekend.
Which led me to go to the rugby bar to celebrate and Corey agreed to go with me! It was so exciting for him to come out and make an effort to socialize. I love when he's a social butterfly. When I got home from Detroit, he was wearing the "My Girl Plays Rugby" shirt I bought him. How cute is that? He's such a supporter. I made him flash his t-shirt for all the husbands at the bar. He was a hit. I think even better than having a passion for a sport such as I do is having a partner who supports my passion such as he does. Where would I be if I couldn't find a mate who understood why I had to leave him all weekend to be in Detroit freaking Michigan playing rugby on 8 Mile (literally on 8 mile! I'm so cool!)? Knowing that he loves my rugby passion makes me love him even more.
So that was my weekend. I exercised my passion and Corey is currently exercising his on a little night ride. And we support each other's loves and love each other because of our loves. This makes us mushy and disgusting. But it's just so darn comforting to know I have found someone who loves me because of my rugby fever and not despite it.
For starters, Pittsburgh beat Detroit in rugby for the first time. The game felt phenomenal. I don't know whether I had a great game or not, but it felt like the best I've played in years. I was focused and felt proud of myself for my decisions and support. I even carried the ball a few times. There is nothing like coming together with 14 other women to pull out an important victory. We played as a TEAM, united and it was awesome. I just sat on the grass afterward staring at everyone and trying to identify why it was I loved them all so much. Why do I do this thing that breaks my toes and hurts? Why is this game so amazing? I don't know, but I love my teammates and play for them and it was awesome to win with them this weekend.
Which led me to go to the rugby bar to celebrate and Corey agreed to go with me! It was so exciting for him to come out and make an effort to socialize. I love when he's a social butterfly. When I got home from Detroit, he was wearing the "My Girl Plays Rugby" shirt I bought him. How cute is that? He's such a supporter. I made him flash his t-shirt for all the husbands at the bar. He was a hit. I think even better than having a passion for a sport such as I do is having a partner who supports my passion such as he does. Where would I be if I couldn't find a mate who understood why I had to leave him all weekend to be in Detroit freaking Michigan playing rugby on 8 Mile (literally on 8 mile! I'm so cool!)? Knowing that he loves my rugby passion makes me love him even more.
So that was my weekend. I exercised my passion and Corey is currently exercising his on a little night ride. And we support each other's loves and love each other because of our loves. This makes us mushy and disgusting. But it's just so darn comforting to know I have found someone who loves me because of my rugby fever and not despite it.
Thursday, October 05, 2006
The Car
I am trying very hard to be a supportive partner. To love Corey and respect things he does and appreciate him, etc. Where would I be without him to deal with car problems? Stranded on the road. That's where I'd be. So I appreciate him. I really do. I just have noticed a pattern with him and car repair. I don't know if it's because he is from New Jersey or because I am cursed or what. But every time we take the Maxima for work, whichever state we live in, the person Corey selects to repair the car keeps it for more than three weeks.
I don't even want to relive the past car problems. I'm not even quite sure what is wrong this time. I know that when I went to Canada and said "How was your day? What did you do today?" he said "Oh. I took the car to the shop." The shop in Monroeville that his friend suggested. Monroeville that's a half hour away. (This is going to quickly get whiney. I need it.)
Now, weeks later, we still have no estimate of costs. (Apparently they just work away without calling for permission or verifying said procedures? Not sure about car etiquette, but that feels wrong and scary) We (meaning me) have to rearrange our schedules to somehow get to Monroeville during business hours but not when I am working or in class so we can retrieve the damn car. But we don't know when it will be done or what is even wrong with it or what it will cost to get back and why has he done this?? Why!
I feel like this is the most concrete example of the difference in Corey's and my background. Where I come from, you take cars to the guy your dad knows. He fixes them in his driveway in about a day or so and calls you to say what he's doing. You go get the car and stand in the driveway and look at it while drinking beer, resting assured that the friend has done a good and timely repair of your trusty vehicle. I have decided right now that we are not going forward with our relationship until we make friends with a mechanic located within 15 minutes of our apartment.
If you (or someone you know) are a mechanic living within 15 minutes of my apartment, please come over for dinner and begin being my friend. Then, go to Monroeville and get our damn car. Then, I can relax and stop exasperating at Corey.
I don't even want to relive the past car problems. I'm not even quite sure what is wrong this time. I know that when I went to Canada and said "How was your day? What did you do today?" he said "Oh. I took the car to the shop." The shop in Monroeville that his friend suggested. Monroeville that's a half hour away. (This is going to quickly get whiney. I need it.)
Now, weeks later, we still have no estimate of costs. (Apparently they just work away without calling for permission or verifying said procedures? Not sure about car etiquette, but that feels wrong and scary) We (meaning me) have to rearrange our schedules to somehow get to Monroeville during business hours but not when I am working or in class so we can retrieve the damn car. But we don't know when it will be done or what is even wrong with it or what it will cost to get back and why has he done this?? Why!
I feel like this is the most concrete example of the difference in Corey's and my background. Where I come from, you take cars to the guy your dad knows. He fixes them in his driveway in about a day or so and calls you to say what he's doing. You go get the car and stand in the driveway and look at it while drinking beer, resting assured that the friend has done a good and timely repair of your trusty vehicle. I have decided right now that we are not going forward with our relationship until we make friends with a mechanic located within 15 minutes of our apartment.
If you (or someone you know) are a mechanic living within 15 minutes of my apartment, please come over for dinner and begin being my friend. Then, go to Monroeville and get our damn car. Then, I can relax and stop exasperating at Corey.
Tuesday, October 03, 2006
Monday, October 02, 2006
Wedding Weekend
I shouldn't be allowed to attend weddings between now and my own shindig. I went to my cousin's wedding this weekend and spent every second thinking either "Well, I'm not doing THAT at mine!" or "Hmm, that's pretty. I should think about that." There were no tears when I saw the bride. No feelings of love or excitedness for the couple. I was devoid of all emotion, simply taking note of all the things on my The Knot checklist and making comparisons.
The only moment of the whole day where I felt a twinge of feeling was during the mother/son dance when my Aunt and cousin danced to James Taylor's You Got A Friend. That was sweet. How could I be so heartless? At Adam's wedding, I cried my way through a box of tissues. Now, 200 days away from my big day, when I should be building up all these feelings and contemplating a unified life, etc, all I can think about is white tulle or ivory?
I'm such a consumer! I'm so selfish! Don't invite me to any joyous occasions for the next few months, because I won't appreciate them properly. This is not to say I won't enjoy the open bar and eat heartily of the appetizers. Just know that every second I am gazing, apparently awestruck, across the dancefloor I am really judging your centerpieces and wondering if my DJ will be more or less cheesy.
The only moment of the whole day where I felt a twinge of feeling was during the mother/son dance when my Aunt and cousin danced to James Taylor's You Got A Friend. That was sweet. How could I be so heartless? At Adam's wedding, I cried my way through a box of tissues. Now, 200 days away from my big day, when I should be building up all these feelings and contemplating a unified life, etc, all I can think about is white tulle or ivory?
I'm such a consumer! I'm so selfish! Don't invite me to any joyous occasions for the next few months, because I won't appreciate them properly. This is not to say I won't enjoy the open bar and eat heartily of the appetizers. Just know that every second I am gazing, apparently awestruck, across the dancefloor I am really judging your centerpieces and wondering if my DJ will be more or less cheesy.
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