Because I’m awesome and guessed correctly where Ira Glass was in Utah, I won two tickets to go see him live in Salt Lake. Which is good. Because I don’t have $25-50 to go see him.
I knew immediately that Eve would want to go, because she’s a This American Life fan. So off we went. And because I’m so awesome we were invited to a pre-event cupcake thingy. AND LO AND BEHOLD AND YEA VERILY IT CAME TO PASS THAT IRA-MOTHERFUCKING-GLASS WAS STANDING RIGHT IN FRONT OF US!
See!
We squeed like two former schoolgirls in the presence of an idol. Then like the pushy person I can occasionally be, I asked him if he’d be in a picture with Eve. Which he graciously accepted, even though he was kind of getting ready to go.
Hey look! It’s the dreads. Looking more okay than we expected at this point!
Then, as we didn’t want to doubly hassle him, and as a contest winner, it was only appropriate that I pose with the head.
But I wanted a real picture with him. So I did this.
The talk was amazing. It was all about storytelling and creating compelling stories and how stories basically are the fabric of human interaction. As someone who, quite literally, told stories for a living, I really enjoyed how he articulated the importance and structure of storytelling in society.
And if I can get all sappy for a minute here, that’s what I miss about journalism. Not that there aren’t stories to be told in our home lives or with our friends or even in a press release. But there’s something about the stories a newsroom attracts that just brings in all kinds. From the single father so desperate for housing that he doesn’t mind publishing the details of his personal life to the woman who rehabs Cabbage Patch dolls to give away to kids in need. The best stories are unexpected. A gem of a romance hidden in an interview about a closing school. I think that’s what pulled me into journalism and tugs at my heart still. I miss those stories. I miss being paid to discover and tell stories. Because there’s nothing more essentially human than that.
(Eve’s write-up, which has zero percent profanity, is here. Although if you think about it, this post had only one profanity. Maybe I should wax poetic about storytelling more often. And if you’re easily offended by profanity anyway, I am surprised you are still reading my blog.)
I love seeing you and Eve together.
It always makes me think of the many long conversations you two had with me trying to teach me gibberish… Something which I could never quite get. (Also makes me think of how you two barricaded the hotel door at a debate tournament cause I was going to leave for a bottled water.. tee hee hee…) I’m glad you two had so much fun!!! And I love her dreads!
Every once in a while, Eve and I remember the water bottle incident with amusement and shame. We were young and stupid and dedicated to rules. Forgive us
I wouldn’t have had that memory any other way! If you two wouldn’t have done that, the only memory associated with that night would have been a walk to the vending machine. You two were like Nevil Longbottom trying to stop Hermione, Ron, and Harry and deserve house points for sticking to your guns! hahahahha
Yes please! Forgive us on that one. At the time I felt so dang noble, now I feel a lot more like an idiot. You were good to put up with us.
And I’m glad you like the dreads!
And Di, I’ve thanked you a million times for taking me to that, but I still get the chills thinking about it. You’re the bestest ever.
Ahh… that’s what your pictures were from. (Clearly I have too short an attention span to read many things.) I used to play with Cabbage Patch dolls. Good times.