So my answer is no, the essential oils I used several months ago or at least two months ago now, when the chest wound started to become quite ugly, are not the cause of this sore that months later aches at times, and nibbles at other times. It feels like a malignancy, Barking. It does not feel like it’s only trying to heal.
 
I napped and have had Tell It Like It Is playing in my head, alternating with another song but I can’t remember which one.
 
Well if you do have cancer, remember what Morrissey said about his: "If I die, I die. " I thought that was very true and sensible; for once.
Of course it turned out that it was nothing serious, but I think he had the right attitude about it.
I would understand a 20 year old being upset about their cancer, or a mother of five, or a scientist about to find a cure for cancer, though.
 
Shannen Doherty was never my favourite witch (I prefer Pete) (and Alyssa, who's a total babe too) but I felt sorry for her. It must have sucked.
 
I just woke from another nap and had a song playing in my head that Bernadene Fox plays at the end of her weekly radio show Rethreading Madness. I looked for it on YouTube and stumbled upon another song that I found cute.

I can’t identify the song I was looking for. Maybe I’ll message Bernadene to find out who it is. Something about believing it when the lights go out and a certain someone says “It’s alright. It’s alright. Everything’s gonna be alright.” It’s a female singer who sounds similar to, oh I forget her name…argh. Oh well maybe next week I’ll know who sings it.
 
Shannen Doherty was never my favourite witch (I prefer Pete) (and Alyssa, who's a total babe too) but I felt sorry for her. It must have sucked.
I looked her up. Seems like she was a kind woman. Dead of cancer at 53. I wonder how her cancer began.
 
There was a guy on the bus yesterday that freaked out because when I mentioned the song I’m Not A Man, he thought that I was trying to make him feel bad. He shouted at me and told me to stop talking to him, but he went on talking at me telling me that people like me are on the way out and people like him are positive. He said “Have a good day. See, I’m positive!”, and another man spoke to him, telling him that he had told me to shut up but that he kept talking at me. They nearly physically fought. When my stop was approaching I got up and gave a Morrissey sticky note to the man who spoke up for me, and said “I was only telling him that I like Morrissey’s song I’m Not A Man.”, and then I pointed to my Morrissey t-shirt and he gave me the hand signal for rock and roll. I gave it back to him just before I exited and I could see by the body language that the two men were still engaged in arguing. At one point the nutcase yelled to the chill guy “You’re gay!”, and he answered “I’m gay?” At another point the madman said that he could see it in my eyes that I was insulting him. His body language as he was seated beside me was very disrespectfully aggressive. Some men are such cowards, going around taking their frustrations out on women like that. The technician that shoved some toxin into my chest is an extreme example I guess.
 
I’ve been noticing headaches lately that linger for quite a while after I sleep. It’s always in the left side of my head at the front but goes away after 2 or three hours. Yesterday I saw that my favourite coffee beans were in stock at the grocery store and I remembered seeing them in stock there in a recent dream. A couple of people told me a few weeks ago that they get headaches and that it’s not from caffeine withdrawal, but that caffeine stops their headaches. I caved and bought a package of those coffee beans and I have a bit of a headache now and might start drinking coffee again to alleviate the ache in my head. I’ve never suffered from headaches much, until recently. I had a headache from caffeine withdrawal for two days after I quit drinking coffee, but then it stopped, but then yesterday after sleeping I had the same headache I do right now after sleeping. Maybe this is an intended symptom stemming from what that vicious technician shoved into my chest a few months ago, having gone through my bloodstream into my brain. It’s annoying. I don’t even know if drinking coffee will make it stop. I want my brain neurons to be hydrated. That’s why I stopped drinking coffee. But the ache in my head is making me reconsider. I haven’t opened the package yet. I’m reluctant to. I’ll see if another nap helps before opening that package. Vicious cowards have too much power over other sentient beings. That’s predominant on my mind right now.
 
There was a guy on the bus yesterday that freaked out because when I mentioned the song I’m Not A Man, he thought that I was trying to make him feel bad...
That sounds like a very unpleasant experience for you Sharon. Reminds me of when I used to hand out flyers for bands and the odd theatre show. Sadly you occasionally bump into someone out of the blue that gets triggered into a meltdown, even before reading the thing.
Helps if you really believe in your cause, but you still need a thick skin.

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Napped some more and the headache’s gone. Think I woke up with No One Can Hold A Candle To You playing in my head but then it got switched to the unknown song that Bernadene Fox plays at the end of her weekly radio show. I’ve no appointments today but there’s plenty I want to do. My counsellor’s on vacation but she said she might give me a shout to set up a Zoom session if she thinks it would go down well. Good wifi connection etcetera. Maybe she’ll contact me today. I have a feeling she might.
 
Again I’m in too serious a mood to listen to music. I’m gripped by a true story in ebook form about a woman who abused her two boys and then tried to keep them from being able to tell anyone, eventually killing them. She had her mother in law and sister in law murdered, and then when her father was going to testify on behalf of the boys’ father so he could try to win more visitation rights, she had her father, her mother, and her grandmother killed. She had so many people fooled into thinking that the boys’ father was the monster. Life is very frightening when examined closely.
 
I’m gutted that the lab coated technician is getting away with what he did to me. It feels bad. At least my right lung isn’t bothering me, I don’t have a headache. The chest wound pinches me here and there, with the biopsy wound there now too. I’m eager to find out what I expect will be grim results from the lab about the biopsy, but it looks more and more like the technician will get away with it and I’m not able to swallow that right now. I don’t feel like painting or writing or cleaning. I have to wait for the weak evening sun to go for a walk. I’m stewing in frustration. Reading true crime helps me feel less alone as a victim and as someone who wishes she could do something to combat sadism, something more than telling people to check out Morrissey’s music. I guess I need to summon up my patience. I feel stuck though. “Oh mother, I can feel, the soil falling over my head.” I know I need to generate patience and faith in my artistic talent to show me the way, but I feel I need a jumpstart. Maybe I’ll get that when I see the symphony this weekend. I go on Wednesday to get the stitches out from the biopsy site, and hope there won’t be any complications. I’m pretty sure I’m doomed with a malignant cancer that has already sent seeds out to other sites in my body through my bloodstream. I’m dreading my future. I don’t know what to do to change my frustrated sense of defeat into hope and faith. I don’t think going out to my favourite restaurant would help. My faith is too weak right now to listen to Morrissey and be moved. My frustration cancels out my faith. Or rather, it numbs it. I have coffee in an unopened package. Maybe that would help. “Give me a drink, and make it quick, or else I’m gonna be sick.” I doubt having a coffee would help. I just don’t know what would help, short of Morrissey calling my number and giving me a pep talk. Something he will never do. I wish I could cry but I’m too frustrated even for that. I’m just stuck in limbo and don’t know anyone who could snap me out of it. Maybe I’ll snap myself out of it at 5PM, force myself to paint to my favourite Morrissey concert. That’s in about 2.5 hours. I guess I’m aiming for that then. I’ve got 2.5 hours to kill until then. I will mope until then I guess.
 
Many people show time after time that their bottom line is to power trip.
 
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Went for an evening walk and in the park there were a couple of tattooed white guys with a drum kit and I think an electric guitar, and I asked them if they’d heard of Morrissey. I said he’s on YouTube. One of them answered “Does he look like that?”, pointing to my t-shirt. I said yes, and then he told me the name of their band, the something Owls. I asked if they were on YouTube and he said not yet. They had an AC/DC song playing on a ghettoblaster, and I hear the singer sing “You wanna jive baby?”, as I got up and walked away, after not getting any good vibes from those two guys. They didn’t have any curiousity about Morrissey beyond his image on my t-shirt in his fine suit and sunglasses. He doesn’t look like an AC/DC member so f*** him right? f*** them. I despise most human beings right now. There are very few people I would like to be around at the moment. No one really, because I don’t feel like talking. I did quite a lot of talking just as I was beginning my walk, and bumped into the friend I took to see the play Medicine. I unloaded on her and I hope she has a good night though I talked her ear off. I wouldn’t mind being with Morrissey. We could brood together.
 
There was a guy on the bus yesterday that freaked out because when I mentioned the song I’m Not A Man, he thought that I was trying to make him feel bad. He shouted at me and told me to stop talking to him, but he went on talking at me telling me that people like me are on the way out and people like him are positive. He said “Have a good day. See, I’m positive!”, and another man spoke to him, telling him that he had told me to shut up but that he kept talking at me. They nearly physically fought. When my stop was approaching I got up and gave a Morrissey sticky note to the man who spoke up for me, and said “I was only telling him that I like Morrissey’s song I’m Not A Man.”, and then I pointed to my Morrissey t-shirt and he gave me the hand signal for rock and roll. I gave it back to him just before I exited and I could see by the body language that the two men were still engaged in arguing. At one point the nutcase yelled to the chill guy “You’re gay!”, and he answered “I’m gay?” At another point the madman said that he could see it in my eyes that I was insulting him. His body language as he was seated beside me was very disrespectfully aggressive. Some men are such cowards, going around taking their frustrations out on women like that. The technician that shoved some toxin into my chest is an extreme example I guess.

I got up, hoping the day would bring a new reason to blame Morrissey, and here it is: he starts fights on buses!!!!
The jerk!!

:D
 
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