I’ve recently decided that I am slowly turning into a 76 year old woman.
About four days ago I was walking home, because I walk everywhere, when I suddenly got an intense pain in my foot. It wasn’t like something was breaking or bruised. The closest thing I can think of is when I had a stress fracture in 12th grade, but I hope to god that is not what this is. Whatever it is, this pain is debilitating. Nothing helps. I’ve been limping, walking on it differently, wearing my tennis shoes non-stop (thus taking my skinny jeans out of my wardrobe cylce), taking Tylenol every 6 hours, even paying for public transportation. That last one I consider the most upsetting and ironic as I have been walking so much as to avoid paying to take the T, but now that I am injured from all this walking, I am being forced to take the T even more.
Today I had to go out and buy orthotic shoe-inserts, which I’ve learned most people in my family have, but keep in mind these people in my family are all over the age of 46. I was also informed by my mom that I probably won’t be able to wear flats or heels or any type of fashionable shoe without fear of debilitating foot pain ever again. I tried to get her to understand the gravity of this statement. Half of my under bed storage is devoted to my shoes. The idea of having to choose between them and stabbing foot pain plus constant t-riding is like Sophie’s choice. I really don’t want to become an orthotics/birkinstock convert at 20. My shoes have so much life left to live.
Now shoe-inserts alone do not turn me into an old woman. My political science paper is also helping the cause. I had to pick an interest group to do field research on, which basically means I had to volunteer for them and write a paper about it. I, rather cleverly, decided to convince my teacher that the local NPR station qualified as an interest group, because it is related to my interests and is conveniently located right across the street from my apartment. Perfect. I went to volunteer one day, took some phone calls from listeners making donations, got some free books. All was good. Then I started reading their website. I got intersted in some of their programs, one of which I was already pretty obssessed with. I thought it would be good background knowledge to listen to a few other programs. Next thing you know, I’ve got NPR streaming on my computer as I work, and the Talk of the Nation podcast on my Ipod as I limp down the street. It’s good to be informed, right?
Now I know that simply wearing shoe-inserts and listening to NPR doesn’t qualify me as a 76 year old, but add in the fact that for three nights in the past week I have chosen not to go out and party with the rest of my college aged brethren, but rather have chosen to stay in with friends playing Scategories and Balderdash (which, I’m sorry, is way more fun than seeing your friends get trashed. Where else can you come up with movie plots for a film titled The “Imp” Probable Mr. Wee Gee?), and you get a pretty convincing case. Plus the fact that when I do go out, I get excited when the party I’m at has Gin and Tonic available. Sold yet?
So, what does this have to do with LA? Only the fact that I’m excited to go to a place where I can drive…less foot pain.
In Development 