This is weird, but I like to go to the labour ward, just to look at the newborns. They're pretty wonderful, really. Tiny little hands curled up into fists, so completely clueless and at ease.
Just hours before they were inside their mother's womb, well protected and now all that stands between them and the world is a bunch of bundled up blankets. I was playing with one a few days ago, and when I lifted up the blanket, it shivered so badly that I get this crazy idea to take off my lab coat and cover it.
So delicate and so new. It was sort of unnerving too, standing there next to this tiny little thing. I felt so giant and ashamed. For some reason.
I don't know where this fascination with old French songs is coming from. I want her songs in my iPod so badly.
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A few nights ago, I realized two things. First, I am a pretty awesome wingman and secondly but most importantly, the extent of my tolerance towards douchy guys is quite vast. To be more specific, towards guys when they say guy things when trying to impress a girl. "I did this I was that I can do this blabla" When too many impressive things seem to happen to just you boy, it's just.......gah. Shut up. Whatever. Hey at least I'm making new friends.
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