I was thinking about my life last week, and all the opportunities that it looks like I have access to in this moment, and it looks like (looks like) someone has just rubbed pimp juice into the ether of my life. That intangible, immeasurable, ephemeral, essence of what constitutes hope. Howard Thurman called it "the aliveness of life". To quote Nelly, "It could be money, fame, or straight intellect."
I'm still exhausted as fuck, and my body/brain still hasn't fully recovered from my travels; particularly since I haven't really had a chance to rest yet- I just came back to neglected work, pressing deadlines, and expectations that have been ratcheted up. But, as I sit there at my desk behind mounds of projects Opportunity keeps presenting herself to me. She's like a little kid playing dress-up who keeps coming back in different outfits, but I recognize that it's still her.
I'm still exhausted as fuck, and my body/brain still hasn't fully recovered from my travels; particularly since I haven't really had a chance to rest yet- I just came back to neglected work, pressing deadlines, and expectations that have been ratcheted up. But, as I sit there at my desk behind mounds of projects Opportunity keeps presenting herself to me. She's like a little kid playing dress-up who keeps coming back in different outfits, but I recognize that it's still her.
"POTUS!?!?!? How did you get my number?!?!?! Nevermind, I know..."
Damn, Opportunity! Wait til I get my shit together; chile, I'ma be all over you!
Better yet, if you keep sniffing round here now, and I ain't even got my A-game together? Howbout I just get at you right now.
Damn, Opportunity! Wait til I get my shit together; chile, I'ma be all over you!
Better yet, if you keep sniffing round here now, and I ain't even got my A-game together? Howbout I just get at you right now.
No comments:
Post a Comment