Tuesday, June 06, 2006
Matter of Minutes
Searching in Futility
I'm so frustrated and disappointed that I could cry... Oh wait I already did that. Here's why.
This morning, I sat in the office going through the phone book looking up numbers of real estate people and calling them. Because it's a week before finals. And we still haven't found a place to live next year. I'm getting desperate.
By chance, i come across the number of a landlord we talked to a couple of weeks ago but never quite got around to touching base with. I call him. He says he has a three-bedroom house available. Awesome. He says he can show it to us today at 2pm.
I call the roommates. By some miracle, everyone is free at 2pm.
Here's what ensues:
1350: We go see the house. 1630 Patterson. It's amazing. Three rooms, carpeted, dishwasher, washer, dryer. Three parking spaces. The guy even says they're gonna remodel the kitchen over the summer. So it'll be brand new for next year.
1400: We're done looking. We even got applications from the landlord, Nick. He says that if we want the place, we should return those applications today. Because he's got some boys who've been interested in it for awhile, who have said that they'll be turning in their apps tomorrow. I talk to the roommates. We agree that we like the place enough to just do it. Let's apply.
1410: We call Nick and tell him that we want the place, and that we're gonna fill in applications RIGHT NOW and turn them in. We arrange to meet him across the street from our current apartment at 2:30 p.m.
1430: We go downstairs to turn in the applications. Nick steps out of his truck. "So the worst possible thing has happened," is all he says. Uh oh. What's that? "The other guys just turned in their applications minutes ago." This when we're standing there, applications and application fees in hand, ready to turn everything in. My throat constricts. This cannot be happening.
But it is.
He says he'll take our applications but not the application fees. And just in case things with these guys don't pan out, he'll call us. But he tells us that it's pretty much a done deal for them.
I walk away feeling like someone just punched me in the stomach. Ten minutes. That's all it took. Ten minutes earlier and we would have found a place to live.
I go to work still feeling like I've been socked in the gut.
After work, I run home, grab Sully, and we spend the next two hours combing EVERYTHING within a six square block radius of east university. On foot. When that doesn't produce any real results, we go home, get my car, and cover the areas around the rest of campus so that by 7pm we've seen EVERYTHING there is to see within a five block radius of the entire campus. 360 degrees of searching. Still no luck.
I'm getting desperate. It's time for a new game plan here.
My Brainchild
This has nothing to do with house hunting. But it's the one thing that's kept me going today. The one bright spark in an otherwise thoroughly miserable day. See I was watching the tennis team practice before I interviewed them today. And I suddenly realized that I was really disappointed that I wouldn't be around to witness the birth of the team's greatness next year. Really disappointed that I'd be missing out on what I have come to consider my team.
I've followed this team for a whole year. You might even argue that I followed the birth of this team's potential this year. Three out of the seven girls are freshmen. This group has an amazing dynamic. They're going to be great. This is greatness in the making. And I can feel that. It's palpable, a subtle force throbbing under the surface, just waiting to erupt. And when it does, this team is going to take the country by storm. And I want to be a part of that. Because I was here for the birth, I want to be here for the crowning glory as well.
Sitting on that bench watching them, I couldn't bear the idea of being nothing more than a bystander next year. I want something more.
And that's when I came up with the idea of making the story of this team my novel. Suddenly it seemed so clear. This would be my book. I would trail this team for the next couple of years and then tell the story of the Oregon women's tennis team's rise to greatness.
It's a grandoise idea. Ambitious, maybe even overly so. And I'm aware of that. But there's this excitement in me that won't die. I want to make this project happen somehow.
Inspired, I went to talk to Kathy about it. She's my journalism advisor. We're gonna see if we can figure something out. The other option I'm toying with is to base my fiction piece for the Kidd next year on this team. My original idea was to combine my Kidd project with my history thesis and produce a piece of historical fiction about women ambulance drivers set in WWI.
But this tennis team is special. These girls conceal a story that's just waiting to be told.
I want to tell it.
It's gonna be challenging. But I want to figure out how to at least work with this and find some reason to continue my association with what I'm come to think of as my wonder-team.
Book or thesis? Who knows.
I'm so frustrated and disappointed that I could cry... Oh wait I already did that. Here's why.
This morning, I sat in the office going through the phone book looking up numbers of real estate people and calling them. Because it's a week before finals. And we still haven't found a place to live next year. I'm getting desperate.
By chance, i come across the number of a landlord we talked to a couple of weeks ago but never quite got around to touching base with. I call him. He says he has a three-bedroom house available. Awesome. He says he can show it to us today at 2pm.
I call the roommates. By some miracle, everyone is free at 2pm.
Here's what ensues:
1350: We go see the house. 1630 Patterson. It's amazing. Three rooms, carpeted, dishwasher, washer, dryer. Three parking spaces. The guy even says they're gonna remodel the kitchen over the summer. So it'll be brand new for next year.
1400: We're done looking. We even got applications from the landlord, Nick. He says that if we want the place, we should return those applications today. Because he's got some boys who've been interested in it for awhile, who have said that they'll be turning in their apps tomorrow. I talk to the roommates. We agree that we like the place enough to just do it. Let's apply.
1410: We call Nick and tell him that we want the place, and that we're gonna fill in applications RIGHT NOW and turn them in. We arrange to meet him across the street from our current apartment at 2:30 p.m.
1430: We go downstairs to turn in the applications. Nick steps out of his truck. "So the worst possible thing has happened," is all he says. Uh oh. What's that? "The other guys just turned in their applications minutes ago." This when we're standing there, applications and application fees in hand, ready to turn everything in. My throat constricts. This cannot be happening.
But it is.
He says he'll take our applications but not the application fees. And just in case things with these guys don't pan out, he'll call us. But he tells us that it's pretty much a done deal for them.
I walk away feeling like someone just punched me in the stomach. Ten minutes. That's all it took. Ten minutes earlier and we would have found a place to live.
I go to work still feeling like I've been socked in the gut.
After work, I run home, grab Sully, and we spend the next two hours combing EVERYTHING within a six square block radius of east university. On foot. When that doesn't produce any real results, we go home, get my car, and cover the areas around the rest of campus so that by 7pm we've seen EVERYTHING there is to see within a five block radius of the entire campus. 360 degrees of searching. Still no luck.
I'm getting desperate. It's time for a new game plan here.
My Brainchild
This has nothing to do with house hunting. But it's the one thing that's kept me going today. The one bright spark in an otherwise thoroughly miserable day. See I was watching the tennis team practice before I interviewed them today. And I suddenly realized that I was really disappointed that I wouldn't be around to witness the birth of the team's greatness next year. Really disappointed that I'd be missing out on what I have come to consider my team.
I've followed this team for a whole year. You might even argue that I followed the birth of this team's potential this year. Three out of the seven girls are freshmen. This group has an amazing dynamic. They're going to be great. This is greatness in the making. And I can feel that. It's palpable, a subtle force throbbing under the surface, just waiting to erupt. And when it does, this team is going to take the country by storm. And I want to be a part of that. Because I was here for the birth, I want to be here for the crowning glory as well.
Sitting on that bench watching them, I couldn't bear the idea of being nothing more than a bystander next year. I want something more.
And that's when I came up with the idea of making the story of this team my novel. Suddenly it seemed so clear. This would be my book. I would trail this team for the next couple of years and then tell the story of the Oregon women's tennis team's rise to greatness.
It's a grandoise idea. Ambitious, maybe even overly so. And I'm aware of that. But there's this excitement in me that won't die. I want to make this project happen somehow.
Inspired, I went to talk to Kathy about it. She's my journalism advisor. We're gonna see if we can figure something out. The other option I'm toying with is to base my fiction piece for the Kidd next year on this team. My original idea was to combine my Kidd project with my history thesis and produce a piece of historical fiction about women ambulance drivers set in WWI.
But this tennis team is special. These girls conceal a story that's just waiting to be told.
I want to tell it.
It's gonna be challenging. But I want to figure out how to at least work with this and find some reason to continue my association with what I'm come to think of as my wonder-team.
Book or thesis? Who knows.
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