That which did not kill me

...has only deepened my delusions.

It takes more than a rabid kindergartner, urine-sprayed toys, forty-five-cent-a-minute cell phone overages and the vagaries of fame and fortune to keep this irrepressible female protagonist down, by God. Probably not much more. But I had the sense to refrain from leaving the house or answering the telephone for what remained of the day, and so avoided further cosmic sewage.

I admit, yesterday I got a little desperate. I did feel quite certain that there had been a screw-up in Central Casting. Today, I still believe this is likely the case, but I am confident it will get straightened out eventually. I won't even have to lie, cheat, steal or kill. Unless we go over anytime minutes on next month's bill.

I know this reveals the extent to which I am psychologically unstable, but as long as I can remember I have had this feeling of being destined for Something More. It's embarrassing to confess this. I don't mean, Saviour of the World More or Household Word More. I'm neurotic, not psychotic. I've just always had this sense that something large and wonderful is in store, that life was to be painted in broad brush strokes. It's crazy, because life has already been plenty less ordinary. And it's probably sick, because I'm turning 37 this month, and at some point you've got to stop scanning the horizon and lean into what you've got.

Today I gave myself a serious talking to. I tried telling myself to be sensible. To adjust my expectations to reality. To be grateful and content with all I have been given. To live in the now. To pay closer attention to the details, like the Cingular billing cycle. What happened was, as I was lecturing myself, I found myself humming the theme song from Mary Tyler Moore (remember the great Husker Du version?). "You're gonna make it after aaaaaallllllll....."

How are you supposed to get anywhere spiritually with a totally unteachable ego like that? I'm going to be stuck in Karmic Comp I for the next thousand years.