a so-called deficit in your childhood can be an asset as you get older.

Anything I ever learned comes down to something pretty simple: Don’t anticipate life; meet it. When you try to anticipate, you’re being an idiot, because nobody’s got the brain to outwit nature. I’m talking here about patience, about believing in yourself. I’m talking here about having courage to wait. You will get what you deserve.
Unknown

You could say I am a writer, a poet, a speaker, a reader. I play with words and soak them in, the power of the written word driving my moods and making or breaking my day. I can spend hours reading about anything and everything under the sun.

Yet I studied accounting and information systems in university, and am currently earning my keep by doing accounts, which has nothing to do with words and everything to do with numbers.

You could say Im a singer, a dancer, a choreographer, a performer. I grew up on stage, from the time I first sang solo on stage for my graduating kindergarten class (shut up, I used to be cute!) to my last proper performance ages ago in university. I wasnt gifted but hey, I tried.

And yet I have slowly weaned myself off the high of the stage, performing when necessary but happiest being behind the scenes and directing. I'm much better directing, writing scripts, producing, choreographing. A performer, Im certainly not.

But I can always say I try.

You could say I'm a Catholic, and proud to be one. I attend teachings when I can, I go to Mass regularly, I serve in my current church whenever I can, I try to encourage my family and friends to attend with me.

And yet when you smell vices off me, or feel my anger when I'm emotional, its hard not to claim me as a sinner and not very Catholic at all.

But its easier to be bad than it is to be good, and in my own way, I do try.

One thing I've always been certain of though is, with the truth stripped raw and when it comes down to it, I am beyond a shadow of doubt, a total daddy's girl.

Of course I love my mother too. But ah, when my father speaks, I listen. (Sorry, mom!)

He says jump, Ill say how high. He says dont do this, and I won't. His word is almost law to me. He says do accounting, I did accounting. He said work in accounts, I work in accounts. Now he does mission work, I want to do mission work. He and I are eerily similar, and in many ways, members of the family often claim that for good and for bad (the temper, particularly), I am the female version of my father. I cant hope to ever be exactly like my dad. I admire my father so much, I love him terribly amd when I hear the comparisons, Im pleased.

Im quite tickled pink, really.

Even if my coloring doesnt really allow me to be pink. But you get what I mean.

So, you can tell then, how my heart stopped at 10.45 am today when my mother called to tell me my father had a stroke.

A stroke.

That doesnt happen to my father, now does it? My father? My daddy?

Forgetting where I was and that I was at work and my boss was behind me, completely reverting from the 21 year old supposedly composed rigid accounts person I am, I burst into tears.

I think I quite frightened my colleagues.

*sigh*

Prayers are demanded, dear readers.