Dear Diary,
I had an interesting day at work today. Penny and I had to come up with a recreation activity for our 1:00pm session. Penny decided that we should make our own colored liquids and add them to soda bottles, with our own personalized label. I thought this was an awesome idea since the patients love soda. My recreation ideas are never this good. Penny has a degree in art and she's probably one of the smartest co-workers I've ever had.
So anyway, Penny set out a table of colored paints, glitter, and oils, for the patients to mix together. Ms. Lundbeck made a brown concoction and made a label that said "Shit Storm" and gave it to Ms. Vanessa Ruiz. Ruiz kicked Lundbeck in her mouth and then we had to call security. I mean there really was no surprise there. Ruiz suffers from IBS and anxiety disorder. She runs to the bathroom when she feels a bowel movement coming on, but often ends up not making it in time. She ended up pooping herself in the lunchroom earlier and that made Ms. Lundbeck lose her appetite. Lundbeck was eating her favorite meal in the world- shrimp paella, which her daughter-in-law brought for her. She was so excited for her paella, you could see her mouth water. And then, she saw Ruiz's watery stool on the floor, and ended up throwing up a little on her paella. Poor Lundbeck.
None of what I just wrote is what was interesting about today. What stood out to me, was the soda that Penny made, before we had to call security and end the whole project. She added red and white pigment to her oil and then lots of sparkly silver glitter. Then she took mahogany gift wrap foil paper and wrapped it around, and wrote "ugly" with a black sharpie across the label portion. I asked her why she called her work ugly, because I thought the bottle was beautiful. Then, she took black paint and filled her entire bottle with it. Now, there was no more pink, no more glitter. The black consumed everything. And she said to me "this is who I am" and I said "okay cool" and that was that. Penny is super intense. I like that about her.
My bottle said Grease Pop and I filled it up with mineral oil and white paint. I have a pus filled pimple on my cheek right now, so I guess my mind was on skin and acne. I shouldn't have acne at this age. I hate it so much.
Well, I'm super tired and need to get some rest. But before I go, I just wanted to let you know that I returned that annoying popcorn machine. I feel good about it. I don't want to keep things that I don't need anymore.
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Vatika's Diary
General FictionVatika is 26 and works at the psychiatric ward at Saint Valentine's hospital. She's trying to improve her life by starting a diary. But will having a diary help her?