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lilninjaxoxo · 5 years
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lilninjaxoxo · 5 years
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Please don’t fucking log off tumblr on the 17th as a protest. All that’s going to do is give tumblr more reason to shut this place down because of revenue loss.
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lilninjaxoxo · 5 years
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Only 4%!?
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lilninjaxoxo · 5 years
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Mood
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lilninjaxoxo · 5 years
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REBLOG IF NAZIS OFFEND YOU MORE THAN NIPPLES.
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lilninjaxoxo · 6 years
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lilninjaxoxo · 6 years
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Clinical Skills for CNA To Succeed
Certified nursing assistants do routine basic care wile working in different medical settings. They are expected to take training and build knowledge on theoretical matters and hands-on skills. Training helps them in handling non-clinical and clinical

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lilninjaxoxo · 6 years
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Being a CNA is like:
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lilninjaxoxo · 6 years
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Magnet in our conference room.
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lilninjaxoxo · 6 years
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I’m aggravated by how belittled the cna job position is, espicially considering the 75 hours of mandated training every cna must go through.
I’ve seen so many cnas get paid only $1-2 on average above minimum wage and it’s honestly disgraceful.
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lilninjaxoxo · 6 years
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Can’t wait for this
I just tucked my tiny 100-year-old lady into bed, and she kissed me goodnight and asked if she could keep me đŸ–€
Stuff like that makes my job worth all the bad days.
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lilninjaxoxo · 6 years
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lilninjaxoxo · 6 years
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Issa mood
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lilninjaxoxo · 6 years
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lilninjaxoxo · 6 years
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on a scale of one to ten how sad are you.
you almost say seven but the answer floats in your lungs like rising mud. you shift your shoulders. some part of you is already forming an excuse. that it’s not that bad sometimes. one, two, three on a day that the clouds are out. you’re just complaining about stuff. yesterday you laughed past a brick of a four, does that make the brick come down to a two-point-five.  the solid seven panic attack of last tuesday feels somehow like a little thorn, just a regular day full of a gentle three-point-nine earthquake rocking after yesterday’s close-to-an-eight. see but if tomorrow you have a real bad day, it will make today look simple.
and what if. what if tomorrow it’s a big old red eight-point-nine. like one of those days where sirens are going off in every part of you but you’re stuck behind a glass window watching it all burn down. like one of those days that your skin against the air feels foreign. like too much of everything. like sitting-in-the-shower, like can’t-eat, like the tide isn’t just coming in, it came while you were sleeping and now you’ve gotta learn how to swim. like bounce me against a bullet hole kind of day.
you keep numbers like nine and ten way out of reach. those are for the people who really are suffering. you’ve got no excuse. nine and ten are funeral numbers, for real problems, not yours, no. and sometimes you’re fine. and you’re kind of used to it. and it’s not sad, it’s just numb like a television caught on static. numb like i can’t remember if i care about this. numb like nothing works but i can’t be bothered to fix it. that’s not sad that’s every day stuff. everybody feels like this, right? feels like they’ve been shut off. right.  
maybe five. right in the middle. like not gonna shoot myself but i’m not wasting your time. a nonanswer. like could be worse could be better. like i need help but i don’t want you to worry even though i need someone to worry about me because i can’t worry about myself. maybe five. but what if five is too small. what if five is too big. what if -
“on a scale of one to ten,” he repeats into your silence, and then pauses. “and please be honest about this.”
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lilninjaxoxo · 6 years
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I can attest to this
“Do you think it’s possible that some people are born to give more love than they will ever get back in return?”
—
Tyler Knott Gregson
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lilninjaxoxo · 6 years
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You caught me
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