This is not to say that I think I'm doing a particularly good job of doing so right now - just that I'm really trying to wrap my head around it.
I had a moment of real frustration yesterday over not having a car, and not being as mobile here in Pittsburgh as I might be with one. And it's weird, 'cuz suddenly I was really annoyed by the fact that I'm car-less, and it's really the first time I've felt that way since my lease was up and I gave up the Miata something like four years ago. I can't believe I've gone that long without a car. In some ways it seems like only yesterday, and in other ways it seems like it's been a helluva lot longer than that.
I spent a long time talking to someone who I think I've gotten entirely too sweet on, considering that I have to leave this town in six days, and because of the vaguaries of the bus system, I had to leave him to make sure I would be able to get home, and it was just so inconvenient. I'm a little surprised at how angry (and in truth, how self-pitying) it made me.
Actually, I think I'm just placing the blame in the wrong place so as to avoid facing the fact the I'm pissed off at myself over not being able to tell him what I was thinking. Typical me: Why be in a hurry to screw up what could be a perfectly nice friendship by raising the spectre of romance? As usual, I'm angry at myself for being afraid of the rejection. Problem is I'm pretty sure that this guy's not sweet on me in the same way I am him. Which, no doubt, adds to the frustration.
Tomorrow I'm meeting up with Barbara Russell to hitch a ride up to Jennerstown and The Mountain Playhouse to see Doug Rees and Janet Dickinson in the playhouse's latest production. God forgive me, I can't remember the name of it; it's the sequel to Run For Your Wife, which was a big hit for the playhouse last year. So I'm looking forward to the chance to hang out with friends and get away from Pittsburgh for a night. It all kinda works out, 'cuz I can hitch a ride back with Biff Baron on Wednesday in plenty of time for the show.
And on Thursday, the cast is planning a trip to Kennywood amusement park, to which I've not been in longer than I can tell you. Probably since the last company picnic before I left SmithKline, back in - I'm guessing - July or August of 1996.
Speaking of tiny frustrations, these three women just came in to Tuscany who're just like nails on a chalkboard! I think these three are the original reason that the bored, annoying and pampered suburban housewife stereotype exists! I'm so not one of those people who likes to instantly classify people, but I heard the first word come out of this one woman's mouth and it slid (slided?) across my eardrum like tinfoil across a cheese grater - and that was all she wrote, as it were.
There's three of them... the one with The Voice™ is shorter and darker, with black hair and sharp designer glasses. Then there's The One in Pink. Not from head to toe, mind you, but in a pink top that's sheer and clingy and a shade of pink/purple that is found nowhere in nature, I can assure you. It's a low-cut v-neck affair that's just clinging to her torso in ways that I find disturbing... and not just 'cuz I'm gay. The third one's one that you wouldn't even remark on if you passed her on the street. Conservatively dressed, conservatively coiffed, conservatively tanned, conservatively soft-spoken. In the company of the other two, she just sorta disappears in all the background noise.
And - suddenly I feel like I took a hit of acid and it's just kicked in - this obviously gay older guy in a Hawaii'an shirt and sandals just sailed past with a tiny little old lady in tow, waving her along like she's a tour group struggling to keep up - and her skuttling along on one of those walkers on wheels. Man, life is a fucking Fellini film.
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