No artist is pleased. There is no satisfaction at anytime.
There is only a queer, divine dissatisfaction,
a blessed unrest keeps us marching and makes us more alive than others.
-- Martha Graham to Agnes De Mille
Was || Will Be || Past Moments || Now || Notes

2001-12-12 - 2:27 p.m.

blah blah, still no job, blah blah, eye doctor, whine bitch, my knee hurts, blah blah

Yesterday Rudy emailed and said that his company would be calling during the day to set up an interview. That would be because they'd just fired some slacker, and needed to replace him (with another slacker) and I'd sent in my C.V. However, here it is 2 pm the next day and still no call.


I suppose I should call them up and hound them. I'm still not totally back on board with the idea of having a job just yet. If you have a job, you have to do that getting up early thing, and I *hate* that. Which I proved to myself again this morning when I got up early, so I could drive down to see the eye doctor and wait in one of those little examining rooms for forty-five minutes for him to finally come in, look at my eyes for like a minute and then charge me lots of money for the privilege. All this made worse by my knee screaming at me the whole time.

Oh, the knee?

Last night at soccer I (playing defense but not goal because of still-lingering shoulder injury) got a break on the ball, had no open teammates, and hence sprinted the length of the field. The ball got away from me, and one of their defenders came out for it. We arrived at the same time, and we're both going for it and basically, we both hauled off and kicked it full force at exactly the same time. Which was more than enough impetus for my knee to say "I don't like *dis* location, I think I prefer dislocation." Ummm...Ow. So it popped right back in, and me, being the moron that I am and having lost the ball, proceeded to sprint all the way back down the length of the field. Now at this point a discerning reader might think that I would sit out the rest of the game. Said discerning reader wouldn't know me very well. I played out the game, because I knew that my knee was still perfectly functional (or at least as functional as it ever is) and that while there was some soreness, the *real* pain would come today.

And it did come today. It came with a six-pack and a sleeping bag, and it set up camp.

And the driving part was sucky because of snow on the ground, and many, many idiots out there with their SUV mentality (summarized as 1) "I'm invincible". 2) "I own the road" and 3) "If I can start quickly, I can stop just as quickly, right?". morons.) sliding around the road like cats on amphetamines chasing a jelly bean across a hockey rink. Only these cats weigh nearly a ton, and me and my poor Sheila are the jelly bean. I've now officially mixed too many metaphors. Or just made up an incomprehensible one. You pick.

Well, now that I've whined enough, I really should get something productive done today.


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