I've heard that often, didn't stop to think about it. I don't lose sleep over cheesy phrases. Y.O.L.O., and other such crappy #JustSayin sayings are tedious.
The preacher made me me pause though. What do you do with gifts? How do you treat gifts? Do you put them away in a corner? Do you go " what a piece of crap!" Do you give them away? Do you throw them out? Hide them at the back of your closet? Does it sit ON your cabinet? Do you show it to your friends? Strangers? Proud of it? Like it? Hate it? Embarrassed by it?
Makes you think, doesn't it?
I do understand now that I have been given a gift. Some power greater than the Universe, more brilliant than Darwin's Theory, and with enough of a sense of humour and extreme bravery decided that me, Wanita Zalina Huburn, is worthy of the gift of life.
Wonder how the conversation went before the decision?
Am hoping it went something like this: She's gonna suck her thumb. Okay. Have a temper. Cool. Hate cats. Eye roll. Not giving her an ass. Then give her boobs and hair. She's gonna be temperamental, spoilt by her Dad, hate house work, mouthy, hate porn. Um really? Have a penchant for words. You don't say. Wont think much of men, have a tough time with authority, lack patience, swear a lot, drink gin, give her Mother a headache. Will throw in a few vices.Okay, but she still doesn't get an ass. Can I give her big calves?
Rite. Get on with it.
For 38 years, I've disparaged and disrespected this gift. I chose to measure this gift by the pleasure it brought me. It's come up short. There is no pleasure in dissatisfaction. I've been so busy counting my losses, the what ifs and couldhavebeens, that I've had little time to appreciate and be grateful for what I have. And I have alot to be grateful for.
Parents who put up with my weirdness, sisters who make me speak creolese so I don't think I'm pissing on clouds just because I "talk on radio", a brother who is crazier than me, 4 nephews who when they are altogether make me wanna boil my head and friends who know when I'm up in my tree but still climb up to hang with me. And that's the tip of the iceberg.
What I did not recognise in 38 years became clear yesterday; I've been given a gift. Am pleased as punch.
Side Note
I will be cussing shortly. Lots to cuss about. Littering, bad drivers, um corruption, James Bond who's a parliamentarian but doesn't know Neaz Subhan is NOT a director at NCN, the politics of revenge that seems to be playing out in Parliament, people who sit on the fence, enablers of corruption, Ruel Johnson and his effin' second book that I am waiting on and the woman who takes the orders at Royal Castle Drive Thru. She of the "dinner special done close." It's friggin 9 o'clock at nite!
Till next time.
Wonder how the conversation went before the decision?
Am hoping it went something like this: She's gonna suck her thumb. Okay. Have a temper. Cool. Hate cats. Eye roll. Not giving her an ass. Then give her boobs and hair. She's gonna be temperamental, spoilt by her Dad, hate house work, mouthy, hate porn. Um really? Have a penchant for words. You don't say. Wont think much of men, have a tough time with authority, lack patience, swear a lot, drink gin, give her Mother a headache. Will throw in a few vices.Okay, but she still doesn't get an ass. Can I give her big calves?
Rite. Get on with it.
For 38 years, I've disparaged and disrespected this gift. I chose to measure this gift by the pleasure it brought me. It's come up short. There is no pleasure in dissatisfaction. I've been so busy counting my losses, the what ifs and couldhavebeens, that I've had little time to appreciate and be grateful for what I have. And I have alot to be grateful for.
Parents who put up with my weirdness, sisters who make me speak creolese so I don't think I'm pissing on clouds just because I "talk on radio", a brother who is crazier than me, 4 nephews who when they are altogether make me wanna boil my head and friends who know when I'm up in my tree but still climb up to hang with me. And that's the tip of the iceberg.
What I did not recognise in 38 years became clear yesterday; I've been given a gift. Am pleased as punch.
Side Note
I will be cussing shortly. Lots to cuss about. Littering, bad drivers, um corruption, James Bond who's a parliamentarian but doesn't know Neaz Subhan is NOT a director at NCN, the politics of revenge that seems to be playing out in Parliament, people who sit on the fence, enablers of corruption, Ruel Johnson and his effin' second book that I am waiting on and the woman who takes the orders at Royal Castle Drive Thru. She of the "dinner special done close." It's friggin 9 o'clock at nite!
Till next time.
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