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

2001-11-14 - 12:38 p.m.

sleeping in and hurting my shoulder, not in that order

For some reason I don't really want to write right now.

I slept in till noon today, and that was nice.

Last night at soccer I told Dad that I quit my job. I danced around the truth a little, probably giving the impression that my alternate choice was a lay-off and not a firing. I'm a weasel, I admit it. Not that Dad will remember the details in even a week.

I still haven't told Mom yet, and if I don't talk to her today she'll be wounded that I didn't call her. I'm not really looking forward to the conversation, though. She'll be so very sympathetic that she'll make me feel bad all over again.

I hurt my shoulder at soccer last night. By the way we were down 2-1 at the half, and playing really well. But we had *no* subs for women, and three for men. The opposing team had about ten subs. They murdered us with fresh legs. Final score 7-2. All three games I've played have ended at 7-2 (the one I didn't was 7-0). We suck so bad.

But my shoulder, I was doing a slide, and I tried to change direction in the middle, and my elbow caught on the turf and I felt this tearing in my shoulder. The rest of the night I couldn't throw the ball with that arm, and I played like hell. Though up until that time I was playing pretty well. I need to work on my reflexes, but the aggressiveness is coming along well.

I'm so glad I still have health insurance. In a way I hope this is really expensive and I can stick it to Exactimundo with some huge bills. Okay, not really, but you know what I mean.

Oh yeah, RockGirl is pressing on the ceremony. I think perhaps she agrees with my friends. Hurm. What to do about that one?

Alright, I must away. I need to make a million phone calls today.

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