I wish someone had warned me that after you hit 20, your body starts falling apart. I always thought you didn't hit that point until at least 50.
I sprained my ankle last week. I have no idea how. I don't remember stepping on it wrong or anything. It just started hurting Thursday night, and kept getting progressively worse over the weekend. Went to the doc today, and got a brace that basically immobilizes my whole lower leg. I'd take a picture and put it up here to elicit sympathy, but that would require walking to my room to get the camera. :)
Anyway, for now poor Tasha is stuck helping the cripple. She's even taking Alex out for me. And she keeps yelling at me for walking around when I don't need to be. (Don't tell her I went to the kitchen for a snack while she wasn't looking!)
But on to happier things--Tasha and I went to a town in South Carolina that will remain nameless (suffice it to say it is the locale of the Evil Newspaper From Hell and the Good Ole Boy Editors From Hell) to see some of our old co-workers--not the Editors From Hell, but our poor fellow peons. Tasha hadn't been there in a year, and I hadn't been down for about a year and a half or more, so it was really nice to see everyone and catch up.
As bad as all of our collective experiences there were/still are, I believe everything happens for a reason. About a week after I accepted the position at said Evil Newspaper From Hell, I got a phone call from a pretty good-sized daily paper in Virginia, wanting to interview me. Having already accepted the position, I turned down the interview--without even getting the details of the position. I have often looked back at that decision and wondered how my life and career might have turned out differently had I done the interview.
But I'm glad I chose the road I did. The first two years at the paper were primarily good, and I learned a lot--about myself, about the world, and about making it in the working world. More importantly, though, I met some people who I hope will be a part of my life for a long, long time, and who I know I will never forget. The common bond we had was the bad situation we were all in. But out of that bond came a lot of good--memories that make me smile, and friends I know I can always lean on.
I don't believe in regret--as I said, I believe everything happens for a reason. I've always felt this way, but being able to look back at that experience and to see clearly, concretely how something that was so negative affected me in such a positive way reinforces that belief, and makes it easier for me to see the light in the distance whenever I am in a rough spot--to live in the moment, without hesitation.
