Sane

What am I grateful for?

My sanity. Although I'd be forgiven for thinking that being less than sane might be somewhat of a blessing as it tends to relieve one from life's many arduous responsibillities. This little counter argument tends to disappear as soon as it materialises, mainly due to the lack of direction (plausible direction that is) that individuals tend to have when a couple of screws have gone missing over the years.

Opposable thumbs. We as human beings (and some primates) are blessed with opposable thumbs, how else would I have been able to unpackage my laptop from all the intricate wrapping that Compaq protected my baby with so many years ago? If it wasn't for that, many of my firsts would not have been immortalised on the vast expanse of cyberworld. Plus, live would not be quite the same if I was unable to peel and dice some muus into my bariis iskudexkaris.

Spectacles. Four words. Blind as a bat.

Shakira. My VW Golf, I consider her to be the woman who liberated me, she has cost me dearly, leading me smoothly to the next point.

Hagbad. This evil affliction has bought me many a happy times. Good thing is you pay back what you owe and nothing more, although it perplexes me how these women, recently liberated from Kaamp Xassan and unable to read, write or speak English are such math geniuses. Somethings are destined to remain mysteries.

Somaliness. No other nation can rightfully boast like we can, our pride is intrinsic, I know people who've never been "back home" and they are the most patriotic lot ever. This same pride that unites us as an ethinc group forcefully divides us in other aspects, a tired topic.

My family. A bloody dysfunctional lot, argumentative, demanding, and yet like no other.