I've finally been diagnosed with the dreaded disease. It doesn't choose its victims, none are spared due to their stature in society. No warning is issued before it strikes, but if it does, you lose everything. Yes I have it. I have Writers block.
Why you ask must someone with such raw talent, a wicked sense of humor, a chest that belongs in the annals of history rivalling that of Marilyn Monroe, be subject to this debilitating disease. It has created chaos among those who know the identity of Priya. Gays everywhere are in a state of shocked disbelief that their very own champion and superhero Ms Yayalicious will no longer be able to champion their cause. Slutty be it may.
What brought it on they ask? Was it the substance in her blogpisodes? Should she have been more frivolous and not so austere? Some deign to imply that her writing was too heterosexual. "If only she had been more Gay" they said. Others whisper that the poisonous lair of corruption that is Malaysian politics finally sunk its decaying set of dentures into her mighty fine ass.
The truth of the matter is far simpler dear friends, gays and country folk. Today marks 9 years in the passing of the dad, father figure, friend, authoritarian, disciplinarian and all round rather courageous man. It is also a reminder that there is more to life than that little Coach bag I've been eyeing.
It's a tap on the shoulder and a blast from the past of a man who always reminded me that I CAN achieve anything I set my mind to. Learning is a never ending process. Wealth is not the benchmark I should set for myself, Happiness, respect and love is.
Thanks to him, I've got that in bundles.
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