The one thing I wished for more than anything as a kid was to receive proof that I was actually a witch amongst mere mortals. When Hagrid, the cuddly half-giant, announced to Harry that "he's a wizard", a tear ran down my cheek. My fantasy come true (well, that, and er, another one in my early adult years with Han Solo dressed as Indiana Jones).I'm almost certain that deep down inside I possess magical powers. However, the "forces" that regulate witching privileges have decided that I shouldn't reveal them yet or, perhaps, save them for a following life.
Releasing the sorceress in me would not give me the right to grant 'world peace' and 'stop global warming'. There are, after all, wizarding laws that prevent us from intervening with human stupidity. BUT, I would use my nose-twitching, ear-pulling, wand-waving techniques for small, baby-step changes towards the betterment of society.
For instance, this morning as I was going to work I witnessed an imbecile car passenger sling out his styrofoam coffee cup onto the side of the road (straw and all). At that moment I pressed my lips hard and wished my magical powers would surface. I wanted to make that cup bounce back into his lap, spill the remaining contents on his head, shred the styrofoam and stuff it down his pants and stick that straw up his nostril. No, scratch that. His ass.
I guess that's why the "elders slash wise ones" haven't granted me use of magic yet. I'm too creative.
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