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I always had a knack for improvisation. I can write down the notes I play, but never really had a proper academic musical background. I suppose I'm blessed and cursed by the fact I have that freedom.
The guilt I felt for having a mental illness was horrible. I prayed for a broken bone that would heal in six weeks. But that never happened. I was cursed with an illness that nobody could see and nobody knew much about.
Vexed sailors cursed the rain, for which poor shepherds prayed in vain.
Dreams are, by definition, cursed with short life spans.
You know, I'm cursed with morals. I was raised a certain way. I wish I wasn't. I wish I was raised by wolves.
That said, the question remains: how to strike the balance between free speech and mutual respect in this mixed-up world, both blessed and cursed with instant communication? We should not fight fire with fire, threats with threats.
I am one of those people who are blessed, or cursed, with a nature which has to interfere. If I see a thing that needs doing I do it.
My tragedy is that all I want is a dog, and yet I have been cursed with cats all my life.
I'm cursed with the gift of foresight.
I've always been blessed, or cursed, some might say, with an insatiable curiosity, a desire to find something out about a people and a place. That's where it all begins.
