I didn't mean to tell anyone in my scriptwriting class what I did and, after last week, I was hopeful that in a group of such self-centred individuals it wouldn't even come up. Alas, someone asked me right out and I said 'doctor.' I can't lie for shit. Never could. He added, "Of what?" and like a douche I said 'medicine.'

Man, it's not like I wanted to be uber-mysterious about it or a speshul snowflake, but this shit just seems to infect things. Try as I may, I can't separate myself from me-the-doctor. As soon as everyone knew I brought up a question about the short film we watched that was medically related. In fairness the film was about cancer BUT STILL. It's coming from the part of me that thinks that the only good or worthy or worthwhile or interesting thing about me is that I'm a doctor and so I constantly have to remind people of it, AND ALSO I have nothing to say that doesn't revolve around it because it eats my brain. Not to mention I have paralleling guilt that I hate my job so much and yet I rely on it to define me - not even, to elevate me - as a person.

Oh, and I still haven't done any scriptwriting, or writing of any sort since February. I'm changing hospitals Monday and I'm afraid they'll have a really strict call rota that might tie me into working Thursday nights and so I'll miss the course. It's already become the best part of my week. (It did not have a lot of competition.) Wah wah WAH.