She Would Drive Satan's Own Mother To Tears

I had an interesting moment of self-awareness at work last night.  I am currently working at a hospital in the regional area of NSW I live in… no, it isn’t the hospital that has been in the news a lot.  Well, not anymore it isn’t.

I am listed on the casual staffing pool and have only had a half dozen shifts so far, most of which I have been working with different staff members, and all in all they have been quite a lovely group of people to deal with.  Except for the occasional racist remark that makes my hand itch to slap someone, but you tend to get comments like that in the more regional and rural areas of most countries.

Last night I was working with a person who just shit me to tears every time she opened her mouth, which is to say constantly.  I arrived home and T asked me how my night at work had been, she also reminded me to take my medication as I had forgotten to do so for the two days before that.

Then it dawned on me… did this woman constantly annoy me because I had forgotten my meds for two days?  Was my reaction to her the fault of my own lacking discipline?  Perhaps she was a pleasant and cheerful woman who had been trying to help me feel that I fit in to a new workplace.

Nah, she is a Nazi cunt from Hell.

Some Background For Those Who've Arrived Late To Class

I don’t really believe in labeling people, but I can see how they are helpful in defining ones roles for others.  So I’ll label myself for you… try to keep up.

 

I’m a gothic lesbian submissive babygirl with a fetish for vampirism and edge play, works on a casual basis as a nurse, listens to John Denver and plays Fishdom obsessively.  

Yes, I said John Denver.  

Fuck off.

Let Me Try This Again…

I enjoy writing blogs.  I’ve kept a number of them over the years, and I’m sure that if you googled any of the online aliases I’ve held over time that you will find the list I’ve left scattered behind me, like some sort of depraved one-sided litany.  The bastard children of illness and insight, of affliction and awareness.  My attempts at breathing a semblance of meaning into my pain and trying to help it gain a strength for a few sessions of psychological self-flagellation later on.

 

So, I decided to start another blog and she was supposed to be a commentary on things that were happening in society around me… but she told me to fuck off.  So then I tried to make her into a blog about our attempts to find a sperm donor and conceive a child this year, but then she said “You know?..  No.”

 

But now I’m trying to build her into something new.  I’m trying to feed this one on truth and not self-pity and drama.

 

Perhaps I’ll conceive something this year after all.

 

"So this little song is probably...she's one of my best friends of all the songs. And um, she just didn't want to be on any of the records. She was supposed to be on Pele, and then she told me to fuck off. And then she was supposed to be on Choirgirl, sorta kinda, but then she said, 'you know...no.' And then she decided she liked being played live, so I play her a lot."  ~Tori Amos Cooling