This is one of those posts, I can tell. The meandering sort of writing that stems from too much coffee consumption and some free time. I do have plans today, although not until a little bit later. Sometime this week I plan on visiting my gym and seeing about perhaps filling my weekdays with working there. Ah, the price I pay for only working on the weekends (although all of my nights are taken with rehearsals and teaching, so I think I’m busy enough!). So right now, while waiting for Mom give me her grocery list and depositing my checks, I’m hanging out, watching The Wizard of Oz (my sister hates this movie on account of all the little people in it. It’s why she won’t watch anything on TLC).
Unfortunately, once again, I can’t go to the North Carolina game because of work commitments. At least I’ll be able to watch the game while I’m working since I’ll be at Mohegan Sun. I couldn’t go last time either because of work, but I ended up being able to watch the second half since my boss let me go home a bit earlier than usual. I ran into the house and turned on the TV just as Maya hit that three to put us up by 1 in the second half. I didn’t take off my coat. I stood in front of the TV, in my white puffer jacket, pacing back and forth.
My Nonna and I are so much more alike than I really care to admit. We both get scared to death at the first sign of trouble in a game. I think I’m still freaked from the Final Four Stanford game in 2008. I woke up that morning and for the entire day, I felt off. Something just didn’t jibe in my bones about the game that night, and I didn’t tell anybody until the second half when it was clear we weren’t going to win. That’s when I let it slip: I knew we weren’t going to win the entire game. Even when we made a little run near the end, I knew it wouldn’t be enough. That game just broke my heart, which sounds like blatant exaggeration, but when you live and die by the buzzer like my family does, it feels like the end of the world.
We are incredibly spoiled. When we lose, everyone freaks out and asks ‘What happened?’ When we win by 18, people say to us “Wow, that was a close one.” We’ve been killing people by 70 and message boards complain of shooting slumps. In an age when immediate satisfaction is de rigueur, we want total perfection and we want it now, now, now. It’s like my Dad said on Meghan’s show the other day: These aren’t iPods. These are women between 18 and 22. Sometimes the button goes on right away and sometimes it doesn’t. They’ll snap out of it. It’s January, for goodness sake.
Thank you to everyone for asking me those wonderful questions on Formspring. Keep them coming! Although it’d be fun to answer questions about myself rather than my father. Starting in the summer, I plan to direct this blog slightly more towards my own endeavors rather than Dad’s. Once grad school starts I also plan to use my other blog more often. It will be a compendium of short stories, poems, story ideas, and brainstorming, just so I have them all in one place. Some of them will be from back when I was seventeen years old, so please excuse their quality.
Now, I shall go to the bank to deposit checks, get sushi with Connie, and donate clothing to our local church drop-off. I have a few pairs of jeans that are simply too big now, and I need to do some closet editing anyway. Also, it makes me feel great when I give to those in greater need than myself. On Thanksgiving Connie and I gave cornbread to a group of men and women on the steps of our Salvation Army, and we ended up giving them the bowl as well.