this station is non-operational.
so, I think one of my basketball players is gay.
it's irrelevant, it's stupid, and I feel like a complete and utter retard for actually writing this, but I think one of my basketball players is gay.
it's not like ooh, I hope he's gay, too! no, no, that'd be creepy. it's more like damn kiddo, you're gay as a bag full of butterflies.
consider the evidence: he talks with a lisp; he's really, really, really excitable; he's always jumping on the gymnastics equipment when we're at training; and, this is the best part, he grabbed my whiteboard on Thursday night and drew me a rainbow.
that's right, a rainbow.
that's not even the best part though; he drew the entire thing with black texta.
lol.
anyway, it'll be interesting to see how it all plays out. I mean, we're talking about teenage boys here. he's a really nice kid and all of his team-mates seem to like him, but the boys are at the age where they might feel threatened by someone different. or maybe I'm underestimating them. maybe I'm old and crusty and stuck in the 1990s haha. still, he's the exact kinda kid who used to get picked on when I was their age (13 going on 14), so it's probably something I should keep an eye on.
see what happens, I guess.
in other news, I'm sick.
like, really sick.
I've been on bed rest three of the last five weeks and I'm still nowhere near 100%.
the doctor's been playing around with my tablets a bit, and I've at least started getting my appetite back, but most of the other symptoms still persist:
headaches, sore throat, fever, joint aches, swollen glands, nausea, zero appetite, light-sensitivity...
oh, and then I got a chest infection on top of that.
and did I mention constant fatigue?
ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh yes, how could I forget the constant fatigue?
(f**k you, fatigue).
most mornings I actually wake up feeling more fatigued than when I went to sleep the night before. how the hell is that supposed to work? and then there's the everyday tasks that just leave me feeling absolutely wrecked. I actually had to lay down after having a shower today, because the effort of standing under a stream of hot water was apparently beyond my fragile little body. f**k sake. I'm 23 years old. pretty sure I'm not supposed to feel like I'm on my deathbed.
anyway, I'm supposed to go back to work on Monday, so we'll see how that goes. at this stage, there's absolutely no chance I'm going to survive a full day at the office. it's not like I'm going to lose my job or anything (sick pay and annual leave have covered my three weeks of absence so far, and I'm a long-term, full-time employee), but I don't particularly like the idea of spending another week in medical limbo.
see what happens, anyway.
if I wake up sick on Monday morning, I'm supposed to go back to the doctor anyway, so I'll get a result one way or the other.
enough about that, anyway.
what else can I talk about?
oh, writing.
yeah, things are still quiet on the writing front.
the words are there, the ideas are there, and there's at least five projects (four chapters, one short story) that are currently in a state of near-completion, but nothing's going to get done while I'm laying here trying to summon the energy to get up and go to the toilet.
did I mention this whole sick thing is f**ked?
ugh.
honestly, I just don't have the energy to write. I know, it's just sitting at a laptop, right? well, wrong. it's concentration. it's decision-making. it's... stuff. I dunno, it's beyond me at the moment. I can't even play video games for half an hour without needing a nap.
speaking of video games, the new NBA Jam looks friggin' insane.
INSANE.
can't wait to go out and buy it.
and speaking of things that are completely insane...
daytime tv.
what the hell happened to it?
it used to be soap operas and cooking shows, but now it's 'opinionated women' telling their sofa-bound brethren exactly what opinions an 'opinionated woman' should have.
f**king idiots.
seriously, I've been laying around the house, watching The View, and all I can think is this:
does Elisabeth Hasselbeck knowing anything?
no, seriously. anything?
no wonder she's called the most dangerous conversative in America.
f**king douche.
and can somebody tell me what the hell a Justin Bieber is?
whatever it is, it needs to be shot.
seriously.
f**king teenyboppers.
anyway, I'm tired.
if I die in the meantime, I'll be sure to let you know.
Peace.
-
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