my disappointment tour.
I was the headliner.
I went to a David Sedaris reading on Sunday and ended the night feeling like I had disappointed everyone. Well, at least four people…
Evan
Evan is working full-time while I’m not working. AKA: I’m writing a shit-ton and doing a bit of freelance work and watching Marcelline and playing tennis during the day when Marcelline is at school. He hasn’t said it out-right, but I can tell he’s a little tired of me going to events at night by myself; especially the ones that start before he gets off work. For these evenings, I drop Marcelline off at a friend’s house or get a babysitter and Evan has to relieve them when he gets off work and then figure out dinner for himself. Sunday night felt like I really solidified my role as World’s Worst Housewife. Like the cocktail straw that broke the camel’s back.
Jeff
Jeff was in front of me in the line to get our books signed by David Sedaris. He was kind and conversational and had a left eye that was almost closed the whole time. I couldn’t quite figure it out why it was collapsed, but it didn’t bother me at all. We talked about writing and recovery and higher powers. Jeff has been in AA for five years. (Jeff is not his real name—don’t worry.) I wonder if he took note of my reusable cocktail cup that held a manhattan I drank during the reading. I want to tell him that I’m on a two-week drunk from finishing the first draft of my book, but that I’ve generally been dedicating my time to being sober and writing and trying to be a good mom. I wanted to tell him that, but I didn’t. Jeff has two grown children, his youngest about to graduate from college. I told him my daughter is three-years-old and that we’re “one and done.” Jeff was disappointed to hear that. “You never know,” he said. Confirming my theory that men truly know nothing about women’s bodies and/or birth control. Because if he knew about the planning and science I’m using to not have another child, he would know that I do know.
“I guess not,” I replied.
David Sedaris
I watched Jeff talked to David Sedaris whilst he got his book signed. I saw them gaze my way and wondered why. When it was my turn to get my books signed, I said hi to David Sedaris and told him I loved him. (obviously I can play it real cool.)
“Are you in a relationship, Rachel?”
“I am. I’m married.”
“Oh, because that Jeff guy seems like a good guy,” David Sedaris said to me as he pointed to Jeff, walking away. David Sedaris giving me relationship advice?
“Ha, that’s funny you say that. Did you notice his eye?” I asked, trying to change the subject a bit.
“Eh, kind of.”
“Well, he had an eye that was almost all the way shut, which is interesting, because my husband has one eye as well! Maybe I’m just really attractive to men who can’t see very well.”
He chuckled a bit, but not much. All I wanted to do was impress David Sedaris. Maybe make him laugh. Maybe make him ask me to tell him something interesting. Maybe make him have to compliment my outrageous outfit that I wore specifically for him. Maybe make him realize that I’m a writer who tries to emulate his essays with all my being.
He drew a breast in my copy of Happy-Go-Lucky, which I took as the highest compliment.
As he finished signing, he asked me, “Have you been to Atelier?” It’s the shop on Capitol Hill he raved about on stage. It’s the kind of place I wish I loved, because I wish I shopped like David Sedaris—both with the same eye and the same bank account.
“No, I haven’t.”
“Ahh, that’s a shame,” he said as he handed me back my books.
Myself
After getting my books signed, I went to the bathroom at Benaroya Hall and called Evan to check in on the family before heading home.
“Marcie finally went to sleep. It didn’t seem like she ate much dinner, so I scrapped together something here for both of us.”
“Oh, yeah, sorry about that.”
“How was it getting your book signed?”
“It was good. It was fine. I had a USB in my pocket with my book on it, just in case the opportunity presented itself. But it didn’t.”
“You have a USB with your book on it in your pocket??”
“Yeah.”
“That’s really cute.”
That’s really cute. I didn’t know how to tell my husband that as a woman pushing 40, I can’t stand that my career goals are being described as “cute.” I’m not a child waiting outside of a concert, waiting to catch a glimpse of her favorite rockstar to say, “I want to be exactly like you when I grow up.” Shit. Wait. Nope, that’s actually exactly what I was doing. Except I don’t think it was really cute. I think it was kind of pathetic.
I don’t know why disappointment is the first thing I go to. “Oh, they must be so disappointed in me.” or “Ah, shit. I’m disappointed in myself.” Maybe because it’s like the worst thing? Worse than mad. Because disappointed means there was potential. I’m sure the therapist I haven’t been to in a year would tell me this is a cocktail of being too hard on myself, general anxiety, and craving external validation.
On the phone, Evan told me that he was going to bed right that minute, so I decided to take my time and take the bus home. I read one of the stories in a David Sedaris book I had on me and when the bus arrived in Fremont, I decided to grab a margarita and some food before truly walking home. It felt rebellious. It felt young. To have the luxury of reading a book on public transit. To be out past 9pm. To be drinking a mezcal margarita. To be out on a date with myself after a reading of one of my favorite authors. I hadn’t disappointed anyone. Well, maybe myself. And maybe my all-too-patient partner, but he’s fine. But David Sedaris doesn’t care. And I’m sure Jeff will get over it.
I forgave myself and decided to buy myself a drink and journal a bit to make up for it. It was a beautiful night-cap. I was proud of myself. I had a great night. I laughed and loved and connected with strangers and read and had a mezcal margarita and did it all with a whole-ass book I wrote in my pocket.
When the bill came, I pulled out my credit card and the server told me, “Sorry, we don’t accept American Express.”
I chuckled to myself a bit, before handing him the Visa I had on me. It’s Evan’s Visa. He’ll be so disappointed in me.
A Little Woo:
Make It Stick: Your woo-loving aunt here telling you to keep at your dreams. Yesterday we had a new moon in Scorpio and holy shit was it dark. Right? It feels dark out there. (side note: god, I hate daylight savings.) Even though the new moon happened yesterday, the energy of that astrology is still here: Dig deep and keep going with those life goals you really want. From this article:
"You'll have the dedication, determination, and a dash of Scorpio's stubbornness to see your ambitions through to the results you desire. You're better able to reach your full potential and access a reserve of untapped willpower thanks to the aspects that are baked into this new moon."
Quick Hits:
Jam(s) of the Week: Yard Act – Dream Job.
(my friend Chelsea sent me this video and it brought me right back to getting all hot and bothered when I interviewed James Smith and he kept saying my name in his cute little accent. regardless, I love Yard Act.)
Jam(s) of the Week: Future Islands – The Tower.(Future Islands will always make me feel like Autumn in Missoula. a beautiful, cold memory. this song also makes me feel like the Tower card in the tarot.)
okay, get ready for a short list of boring-ass, cozy recommendations, because it’s so dark outside and I just wanna be cozy and eat soup…
The MOST Delicious Soup.
(and I MADE IT. working on passing that World’s Worst Housewife trophy to someone else.)
The Only Cat My Landlords Would Allow.
(Marcelline told me yesterday that she wants to get a cat and name it “Rono.” when I said, “oh, cool! Rhino?” she quickly said, “no. RON-o.” so if we got this pillow, it’s name would be Rono… obviously.)Goop’s Gift Guide Is Here.
(and it’s all ridiculous, but I can’t pretend that I’m not spending every damn night in these Goop sweatpants that I found for $5 on Bainbridge Island that Evan absolutely hates.)Reading Both This Book And This One.
(when I first really got into reading, I was in my early 20s. I don’t know why it didn’t take sooner, but that’s what it was. I would keep two books on my nightstand—one super popular fiction novel and one poetry book. these days, switching between these two books, it somehow feels like I’m 22 again—for better or for worse.)‘Tis The Season.
(this made my BFF and me laugh harder than expected.)
LOL.
(I love Christmas decoration fails.)
Thank you for being here with me this Tuesday. This week. I so appreciate you and your light you’re bringing to these dark (both figuratively and literally) times.
xxo,
rachel.