I am...a New Yorker

[Previous entry: "Nervous, Then Stupid with the Flyng"]

Thursday, January 3, 2002
A Klutz

Lots, but I didn't want to hold the entry for the photos, perhaps an all-photo entry tomorrow.

At how work, which should enable my lifestyle, sucks time away from it.

More Mighty, Mighty Tim Tams and boy they are gong fast!

If everyone's this miserable with their day job, if I'm just a baby, and if I've got the guts to move on to what I should be dong. I might not get rich, but at least I wouldn't hate what I'm dong half the day.

The Boy's back from vacation, too.

Bumped, bruised and confused.

Free time and all that sleep I had on vacation.

Not all these DVDs I've rented. Oy vey.

My ankle snap when I hit Broadway.

Fang we have to get our own gig gong -- we've got so many talents.

It must have been pure comedy to see me come flyng out of that bus. I mean, it hurts like a motherfucker, but if I were walkng down the street and saw that I'd have been n hysterics.

Members of *NSYNC (or *NSUCK, as The Boy calls them) will appear n the next Star Wars prequel.

If I should just switch over to my hobbit name, Pansy Brandybuck of Buckland. Thanks to Lisa

The' voice that's been tellng me "it's time" is growng impatient.

Myself nto gong to work everyday, when I really want to stay home and be creative. The trick, of course, is gettng paid for it.

Talk about gettng a woody. Thanks Andrea!

I am...n pan. All over.

Yesterday I was anxious to get back to work. I was suppossed to do some work durng vacation, but frankly, had about 4 months of sleep to catch up on and so I did. I thought I'd atone by wakng up early and gettng some work done. I thought if I stayed at home I would get distracted and piddle away the time. I decided to go n and get there as early as I could.

Not beng a mornng person, I was thrilled to get out of my buildng shortly before 8. The traffic isn't very heavy at that time, so I got to work before 8:30. I forgot to rng the bell n time to get off at the stop before mne, where there was a Starbucks I could've worked at. I figured that was OK, snce no one would be n the executive offices and I could sequester myself for at least an hour before the endless stream of nterruptions began.

That was my plan, anyway. What happened nstead is that I got off at my regular stop and took a header off the bus. Next thng I know, I was face down on Broadway. My only thought was gratitude for the fact that I'd taken a moment to put the second backpack strap on, so the laptop didn't hit the ground as hard as I did. Of course, the backpack did hit me n the back of my head, but that was nothng compared to my left ankle, which took the brunt of the fall.

As a quick aside, before I knew it, two young men helped me up and went on their merry way, one before I could even thank him. Ya gotta love New Yorkers -- they're efficient.

This, of course, is the orignal problem jont on my body. I spraned it while runnng to first base durng P.E. n high school. There was a sprnkler nside a big hole about 10 feet before the base. I stepped on the sprnkler, my foot slipped ankle first nto the hole and I ran the rest of the way to the base on my ankle. By the time I walked home from the bus stop that afternoon, I looked like the Elephant Man -- my left foot was the size of a large child's head. Even though the doctor and x-ray tech were certan it was broken, it was just a severe stran. Later, I'd wish more than once that it had been broken, because then I would have had crutches and been able to stay off of it and had a chance to heal.

This pattern has contnued to the present. Almost as soon as I fnally heal, I trip, twist or stumble agan. I never was a big fitness nut, I was even lazier when I was thn. But I do enjoy certan thngs that the past few years I can hardly manage -- like walkng throughout the city. What's frustratng is when people tell me "if you just lost weight..." If I didn't hurt myself with even the most mundane physical activity, I would not have ganed so much weight. I doubt I'd be sknny, but I was perfectly happy with myself 200 pounds ago.

Snce fitness facilities are part of what we do at work, lately people have been advisng me to "beat stress" by workng out. That's all well and good, but snce I can't get my work done even if I stay 10 hours a day, hardly stoppng to take a piss, how thrilled would my boss be if I chose to spend that hour n the gym or pool. I'm barely keepng my job as it is, constantly takng 2 steps forward and 3 steps back. It's aggravatng as fuck. I've been back for 2 days and it feels like I haven't had a vacation n 2 years. Already it feels like I'm never gong to have time to write, time to work on my projects, time to design, time for me any time soon. Where the hell am I supposed to squeeze n workng out on top of it all?

Today a donor sent us checks for $15,000 and I joked about "happenng" to bump nto him n front of his buildng, as I'm n desperate need of a sugar daddy. Or mommy, I really don't care. My mom would tell you she and dad spoiled me and that's my problem. But really, with the recent exceptions of the laptop and high speed Internet access, I haven't had a lot of luxuries snce I've been on my own. I did have my own apartment for three and a half years, which I now miss desperately. I'm not the best with money, but it's not like I'm drippng n jewelry, high fashion or expensive make up. I shave my own head, buy almost all my clothes off the "50% off redlnes rack" and yet there's little left to go around.

I just feel so crunched. On the one hand, when I have somethng like this happen, I'm glad I have nsurance. On the other, I knew gong to the hospital (the emergency room is my only choice, snce the primary care doctor I chose is no longer on the plan) on my first day back from 2 weeks off would've gone over like a fart n church. I shouldn't have to choose between my job and my health. I'm already back to tears and chest pans and it's only been 2 days. I know I should be thankful to have a job with all that's gong on right now, but I literally cannot live with all this stress.

Somethng's got to give and I don't mean another jont, tendon, ligament, muscle or bone (so far, no bones, but I'm just sayn').

[Next entry: "Fnished!"]
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