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Tuesday, December 19, 2006

 

OK, Time to Admit It: It's Me!


Speechless!

I am speechless.


Utterly.

My throat is all choked. And my teary, teary eyes...



I, Nava, was chosen as TIME's
Person of The Year 2006 !!!!!

ME!!!!

Oh.
It's so, so hard to steady my voice, wait . . . even my hand is shaking as I type these words.
Forgive my stutter.
It's not every day that you get such an honor.
And I am just a silly woman, whose emotions overcome her.
OK, I'll try to steady myself.

I don't quite know how to respond.
Honestly.
I mean, I was kinda secretly hoping for it, I admit,
But I didn't quite expect it! Really.

No, I wasn't.
I am not even a citizen of this country, I have an accent, I don't always understand all that is said to me, and people mostly don't understand what I have to say.

And yet - there it is, in writing!


Thank you, MichaelBains, for pointing it out to me.
I am so humble in my nature, y'see, I wasn't even aware of it.

It seems like
some people have demurrers.
I dare say, objections even, to the TIME's choice, and they are offering what they see as better candidates.
Can you believe it?
Also, you'd expect friends calling to congratulate me.
Not even one.

But, you know how it is: so many people nowadays are just too small, and can never be happy for others.
I am sure some people would even go as low as to say that I am taking this too personally.
But I know it's the ugly green strident voice of jealousy speaking out of their unchosen throats.

I am above it.

I have more important things to focus on now.

After all, as shy and introvert as I am, how am I going to deal with the fame?
How am I going to not crack under the pressure?
Will I manage to not let this go to my head?
And I have nothing to wear!!!
...and my hair - Ahhhh, I think I am having an anxiety attack!!

Can I cope with it all?

But here I am, blabbering lengthily, and forgetting the important thing:

I feel obliged to thank you all.
You have all helped me to reach this day.
Each of you, in your unique way, have made an impact.
And, I shall not forget it.
I promise, I won't.

Thank You.

I am so grateful to be recognized.
Really, I am.
(still, I can't help thinking: why just TIME magazine? Why wasn't I chosen by LIFE as well?

And here's an even bigger dilemma:
I really need to go out now, to run some errunds, but - with all those paparazzi. . .
I can't see them, but I know they are hiding out there.
The stress!!!


And at this time of distress, I cannot even {sigh}™ properly, as MichaelBains will come running, demanding usage fee.

Ah well, better face it now.
I shall brace myself.

OK, world, here I am.



Labels: ,


Comments:

Hilarious!! :p-)
 

Why wasn't I chosen by LIFE as well?

I'll head up the Letters to teh Editor campaign AND waive that li'l {sigh} fee in honor o' the occasion, m'Lady.

Congrats!

Ya silly. {-;

Oh! And, only as long as you are NOT a smoker mind you, might I suggest a drag on one o' the JohnnyB's smokes for to be calming those janglies before confronting zee paparazia.

Eh!
 
Congrats

:)
 
MB - words fail me while trying to express my gratitude to your generosity.
Speechless, yet again!

Nava, POY.

 
Typical woman - it doesn't matter what country they are from they always want to start a cat fight. Always in competition with all the other women within a 50 mile radius! However, you don't win this time. You won't find the paparazzi outside because they have been following me since the announcement. Good thing I am wearing a shirt that says: "I am Paris Hilton so I do whatever I want."
 
You know, back when I was in college, I used to subscribe to Time Magazine. Then the editorial staff got taken over by womens and the whole thing went straight into the crapper.

But, hey, congrats on your "Man of the Year" award.
 
Thank you.
Thanks to all of you.

It's just so heartwarming to get such sincerely positive energy and good vibrations from everyone.

Except for you, dear She-who-gets-no-comment-credit. Always competing, Eh?

Nava, POY

 
CherkyB; LOL!

Who says sexism can't be funny?

{-;
 
CherkyB, you really are all about poop these days.
Freudian, Eh?

 
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