I can't write diaries like I used to. The world of electronics have made hand written words much too slow, my cursive writing simply shortened versions of true thoughts. This is too bad, because the present is quite worthy of jotting down, for it has taken a long time coming...

Yesterday was my White Coat Ceremony, and I'm so glad I didn't NOT go because my parents couldn't make it. I told them those ceremonies are for the people in the audience much more so than the people walking across the stage. After all, if no one saw your flash in the spotlight (and there are no pictures to validate), who can remember those moments afterwards.

But I was so wrong!

It made an ordinary Saturday evening less than ordinary. Lasting or fleeting, I felt renewed and encouraged. It is necessary to hear cheesy adjectives, exalted claims, to remind myself the honor and privilege of the medical profession. I'm glad the ceremony took place at the beginning of the second year, after we have toiled and momentarily overcome... If this were at the beginning of freshman year, it would just be another naive salute to a profession I really know nothing about.

And there were pictures... many many. Some just a pose, a smile... others I can recall the exact angle of the face and brush of the hair... There were many voices, some just passing greetings, others still vibrate the air. It is not fair to remember, to lament... Once passed, the magic can only be re-felt, never truly recalled.

I asked a friend whether this will be a good year, and he asked me to define "good". I can't. Good is good.