kiffie dot com

Hop, Fuck, Hop, Shit, Hop, Damn

Part three of the update series:

I tore a muscle in my calf. 

It was as fun as it sounds.  A few days before I had a funny ache in my leg after jogging, so I took it easy.  Then on Friday, I was running down the Metro escalator on the way to work and when I put my foot down at the bottom, something in my leg went "pop".  Then I hopped over to the bench muttering "fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck"; luckily in morning rush hour no one looks askance at that sort of behavior.

Immediately, I called F to ask him to HELP!  Except that it was too early and he wasn't awake yet.  I called a few more times hoping to rouse him, but it was to no avail.  I probably left a peevish "something in my leg snapped and I can't walk and you can't even answer the phone and I hate you" message. 

I had to figure out what to do.  The Woodley Park-Zoo metro station is 160 feet deep.  This is something that you start to consider when you can't walk.  I also had to consider that it was my last day of work before going overseas on vacation for three weeks. 

George Washington University Hospital is the closest emergency room, but there's also an emergency room at Suburban Hospital, which is right across the street from my building at work.  I was pretty sure that Suburban was the right choice because I was on the last day of a three day experiment and it would really be a shame to lose it.  Plus there were things I needed to take care of before leaving work.

Of course, I wasn't thinking particularly clearly and didn't really trust my judgement, so I did the next logical thing.  I called my mommy.  Unfortunately I could only call her for advice, rather than to come fetch me, as exactly one week before she had fallen and broken her ankle.

To be finished tomorrow.  Things other than my blog call.

It's Friday, I'm Bored Out Of My Skull.

(The title should be sung to the tune of the Cure)

Today, I feel disinclined to work, possibly inclined to not work, definitely not interested in being at work.  I am also disinclined to write anything cohesive and would rather just list random thoughts and/or observations.

The Boy's birthday is in a week and a half.  I'm not really sure what to get him, as we've both moved into "if I want it, I'll buy it" territory.  I'll probably bake him some cookies because I think that his Army crowd is mostly guys and cookies go over well in that sort of situation.  There are few situations where cookies don't go over well.

I have a quote from "I Bet If We Kissed" by the Research as my custom message in Gmail chat.  A friend and ex-somethingorother who apparently doesn't use chat much asked if I'd mistakenly written that to him.  Yes, of course I did.  I think explained it a bit too strenuously (i.e. "It's a song lyric.  It's not personalized.  My mother sees the same message as you."), but really I was cracking up that he thought it was directed at him.  Silly boy.

My newest trick/superpower for making my team win is to wear the color of our opponent.  It happened by chance yesterday and totally worked.  I suppose that something happening once is hardly proof, but I have a good feeling about it.

I'm going to a baseball game for a friend's birthday after work today, which I'm looking forward to, not least of all because it necessitates leaving work by 5:30.  Yay, early day!

The network drive keeps crashing, which is keeping me from doing my work.  I can't say I mind.  I suspect that I'm suffering from a bit of spring fever.  I've been incredibly productive at work lately, but I just can't keep my mind on it or much of anything it seems. 

My goal for today is to not get distracted by anything shiny in the middle of a busy street or at the bottom of a swimming pool.  I think it's an admirable goal.

Speak, Memory

More often than not, a good memory is a curse, rather than a blessing.  I would like to be able to call F tomorrow morning to go jogging with me, but I'm not going to.  He may say he'll be ready and not complain if he isn't, but I am choosing to trust history.

From my real-life paper journal (I was going to edit, but can't be bothered.  There's more profanity this way.)
8/12/04:
What a selfish cunt!  I spend 50 minutes at his apartment (when he didn't make the coffee that he said he would and did stay up late playing PS2), then couldn't go out running with him because it'll make me late for work and he's mad at me.  He's still giving me shit about how much more he has to pay in rent when it's been since May that I told him I was moving and he hasn't done anything to move.  He's okay with me entirely paying the extra cable bill for Euro 2004, which angers me and he thinks that because I leave late for work one day, it's reasonable to expect me to do that every day.  How selfish.

(end journal)

It would be nice to forget sometimes; I'm just not able.  Admittedly, one of the toughest things is that he's trying to work civilly through  break-up and I'm dealing with five years of resentment.  A lot of it was my fault.  It is so drilled into me to avoid conflict at all costs, that I will.  At all costs.  So then after four years when you trot out an opinion and deign to disagree with something, it puts a lot of stress on a relationship.

I guess the hardest part about the break-up is that it's all for reasons that have passed.  Things that I can't forget. 

So to come full circle, I will not be calling tomorrow morning to ask if he wants to go running.  The best case scenario would be him not answering the phone.  If he did and was not ready in time, then he would yell at me for not waiting.  Or I would wait and would have to cut the run very short in order to get to work. 

I meant to break-up from the stress of the fights when I broke up with him.  It hasn't quite worked as well as I'd hoped.  Tension headaches have been my friend of late.  But I do not have to deliver myself into a stressful situation.  And I remember why I'm not calling.