I started my day at 6:30 this morning with an email from Kathy who was having a huge problem with Miss Mexico being crowned Miss Universe. Apparently she couldn't square Miss Mexico's performance in the Q&A with her ultimate victory. It wasn't an issue I was prepared to tackle.
To be fair, and I'd appreciate it if you'd keep this on the dl, Kathy turned to me because we were online together last night watching a little bit of the pageant. As you might imagine, beauty pageants aren't really our thing, but ever since DWTS wrapped up and Suzanne Somers left the Home Shopping channel, we haven't really had anything to apply our world class commentary to. And it's fun to try to guess who's slept with Bret Michaels.
Tonight I'm not enjoying anything near that level of entertainment. I'm curled up with my laptop and some tea waiting for Primary results. I must be the only nut who cares about them because there's not a lot of coverage.
I'm just back from the bookstore. B&N has a nice green tea with coconut that I like to get with a squirt of vanilla syrup. It's the perfect thing on a cool rainy night like tonight. While I was there I picked up This is Where I Leave You by Jonathan Tropper. It looks good, funny. And one of the characters is named Jen. That's all it takes, people.
I guess Tropper teaches writing at a college in NY. I wonder if he makes his students use the same terrible books I'll be using for my class. I shouldn't say that. One of the books is good. The other two are terrible. In baseball, that actually makes for a pretty good average. To be perfectly honest, and after revealing that I watched Miss Universe I don't know why I'd stop now, it never really occurred to me that I'd need any books at all for the class I'm taking. It being a writing class.
I'm sure my teacher totally knows what she's doing. And has a plan to give us all individual attention despite the class size. Which is way too large.
Can you tell I'm already getting a bad attitude about this whole thing? It's OK. I'll pull it together. I've just got to fight with myself a little bit first. It's a very productive process. You can imagine.
Do you know who doesn't undermine her ambition with self doubt? DF. Let's discuss.
So I wandered around the bookstore tonight and came across two women who were reading Bibles out loud. I don't think they were trying to convert anyone, probably just trying out translations. But who doesn't need a good word, so I tucked in on the other side of the bookcase to listen for a minute. That's where I saw a whole shiny stack of books by DF displayed facing out for the whole world to get a better look at and I went from all Praise the Lord to What the Fuck. Like in a split second.
I'm such a jerk.
I went to high school with DF. She was the valedictorian. I think I came in around sixth-ish. This book, by the way, isn't even her latest. She's written a whole shelf full. Fiction and non-fiction. And she's a tenured professor... probably. I'm not 100% sure. You should know that I don't generally cyberstalk people, but when my whole mid life crisis began I may have googled a few people. I did. Just to compare and contrast. Not one of my better ideas, FYI.
DF is the sweetest person in the whole world and I'm happy for her success. I am. I swear to God I am. It's just that, you know, the compare and contrast thing.
What I realize now, though, that totally escaped me as an adolescent is that, while DF was very smart and worked very hard, she also had whole teams of people who were just crazy about her and encouraged her success. She was an only child in a family with a successful father actively involved in the community, a stay at home mom, and a grandmother on sight who made homemade pasta and ironed razor sharp pleats into DF's school uniform skirt. I was over her house once and her grandmother offered me a glass of orange juice. When I accepted, she took out some oranges. To juice. Would you like that with or without pulp, dear? I'm sorry, what?
I'm guessing DF didn't get a phone call from her mother in her senior year of college asking her what her major was. I mean, just a guess.
So what ah you goin' tuh do? Work in uh museum?
Yeah, I don't know.
Linda works at the phone company. Good benefits. She's uh supavisa.
Great. I'll keep that in mind.
For those of you too young to remember, before cell phones there were regional phone companies where I guess you could go to kill time while you waited to get married. I probably should have considered it. As it was, I was lucky to be graduating at all. Things had gotten off to a rocky start and I spent the next few years trying to right the ship. The only thing I found easy and did really well in was English. Which is why I wasn't majoring in English. Because if I liked it and did well in it, it must be utterly without value. Try to stay with me here.
My journey to that point was mired in a similarly twisted logic. I had chosen to apply to colleges, not based on a particular ambition, or after consulting teachers, guidance counselors, or parents. I choose the schools I did based entirely on that passage in Franny and Zooey where Franny rides the train down to New Haven to spend the weekend with Lane. "Everybody else on the train, Franny said, looked very Smith, except for two absolutely Vassar types and one absolutely Bennington or Sarah Lawrence type." Forget that Franny was in the middle of a complete nervous breakdown. And Tulane only got thrown into the mix because my favorite doctor on St. Elsewhere went there.
I believe that's a first class mind at work.
If only I had mastered baton twirling. I could be a former Miss America as we speak and you'd be dealing with a girl who could stop hoping for a better past.
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