(no subject)
I was just sitting calmly at work, when the most disturbingly fangirlish thought I've ever had hit me from nowhere. I'm not really afraid of death. What I am afraid of is death before the Harry Potter books are all written. The fact that this thought really is horrible to contemplate is really pretty pathetic. :-P
There are no words to describe just how badly I need to de-stress. All this netball is getting to me - not only worrying about my performance and whether or not I'll get court time on the trip, but worrying about my various injuries and the way they affect my playing, worrying about how they'll hold up in Gladstone. Especially the shin splints, as there's not much I can do for them except resting, and there's no chance of that happening with training three bloody times a week. And the back problems are bad too, simply because I can't afford to have anything done about it. So I've been snapping at Anthony, and being more demanding than usual, and not getting enough sleep, and everyone hates me.
But! This weekend is mercifully netball free, except for a piss-up at the Exchange Hotel on Sunday, which Clare has decided to call a 'team-bonding session'. :-P I will most likely not drink anyway. Have no money. Another cause of stress. *sigh* Although, even if I had the money, I probably wouldn't bother. I'm going for the social factor - I don't get out enough.
Argh! I don't know what to do about these stupid injuries, but I am NOT dropping out of the team!
There are no words to describe just how badly I need to de-stress. All this netball is getting to me - not only worrying about my performance and whether or not I'll get court time on the trip, but worrying about my various injuries and the way they affect my playing, worrying about how they'll hold up in Gladstone. Especially the shin splints, as there's not much I can do for them except resting, and there's no chance of that happening with training three bloody times a week. And the back problems are bad too, simply because I can't afford to have anything done about it. So I've been snapping at Anthony, and being more demanding than usual, and not getting enough sleep, and everyone hates me.
But! This weekend is mercifully netball free, except for a piss-up at the Exchange Hotel on Sunday, which Clare has decided to call a 'team-bonding session'. :-P I will most likely not drink anyway. Have no money. Another cause of stress. *sigh* Although, even if I had the money, I probably wouldn't bother. I'm going for the social factor - I don't get out enough.
Argh! I don't know what to do about these stupid injuries, but I am NOT dropping out of the team!