Porkchops & Sympathy � Feb. 06, 2002
I Feel

Last night, I very possibly broke my foot at colorguard. On top of that, they changed the end of the show and I no longer have a solo. I am fuming. Kelly didn't mention my part specifically but she said at the end of the practice that what she did was for the betterment of the guard. How exactly is it bettering us if you take one of your best silks off the floor for half the show? That baffles me. I am beyond pissed and very very VERY close to quitting. I know I should talk to her about it, but I doubt that I can. I am going to get a note from the doctor excusing me from practicing on Saturday. We don't know what is wrong with my foot yet and I am going to the hospital in a little bit. I am eating dinner right now and waiting for my father to get back from class so I can go to the ER. Fun fun. I really don't want to go, but my parents insist that I should.

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After practice last night I went out with Kristy and Steve for a little bit and Kristy is making me request off work for Valentine's Day so she can set me up with a friend. I think that friend is Steve to be honest with you but she won't tell me. I know he likes me. It's obvious. Do I like him? Well, I don't know on that one. I hardly know him and sometimes he can be a little weird, but if I can get him to do his hair differently than he did last night (he looked like a little boy!) then I should be fine on the superficial aspect of things. He is a nice guy though. I will just have to wait and see what she has planned for my love life.

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I am sitting here eating my dinner, or trying to at least, and I am quite content with my food. I am having half a plate of steamed broccoli and a pork chop. If it were my decision, I would have a whole plate of steamed broccoli but well, Mither insists on making me eat the porkchop. Damn porkchop. I wouldn't have to deal with my cat crawling up my ass if I didn't have the porkchop because the cat has no interest in the broccoli. He should go and bother Mither for her Salsbury Steak but no, he wants the porkchop. How she eats those things, I don't know. They make me ill.

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I spoke with Chris for a few minutes tonight and I finally gave him the link to this journal. (*gasp*) What possessed me to do that is beyond my gathering, but for some reason, on impulse, I did. He seemed generally concerned when he heard about my foot. But well, I don't need his sympathy. I know that no one cares about my injured foot and what I am eating for dinner, but when you are sitting here, with nothing to do because it hurts to walk, and stabbing at a porkchop, you don't really have anything to write about. This is what my life has been reduced to. Writing about porkchops.