after learning how to resuscitate newborn babies, i have an overwhelming urge to stick a tube through all their vocal cords. i also feel like tweaking ventilator settings based on the analysis of blood that i take from their little heels and putting into simple, veiled language the condition of their premature selves as “answers” to their parents.
this doesn’t mean i like paediatrics. it means i like the nicu which, unfortunately, is but a tiny subset in the world of kiddie medicine and i will never have the luxury of delving into just that one part. oh well.
i believe there are people put into our lives just to make the cushy bits a little…pricklier. like making a comment that gets on our nerves and teases our patience, tempting us to turn into the mean, sarcastic monster we hide beneath our pleasant demeanor. it’s easier to be a lesser person and give regrettable reactions like “i don’t know what she sees in you, you bastard”, but then i wouldn’t be able to answer to the great one upstairs when my time at the pearly gates arrives.
better to remember the plank in my eye than point out the splinter in someone else’s…as much as i’d like to jam that splinter ever further into their aqueous humour. oh well.
i like two distinct categories of guys:
(a) the dashing-but-grounded charismatic types who are handsome enough to wait for the cutest reincarnation of, well, me, and
(b) my father incarnate, who have enough personality and maturity to make up for their lack of good looks and also to wait for the cutest model of, well, me.
which means they have a tendency to lose my number because all i am is the current version of me and i’m kinda done with updating my software. oh well.
i haven’t had an epiphany or spiritual revelation in ages. oh well.