#523: THE FIERY ONE TEACHES A LESSON IN THE ART OF GETTING OVER ONESELF
Despite my nearly overwhelming urge to quit my job and run for hills and a life of hippy gardening and tea times and too many cats, I have a feeling that I am supposed to let this desire for change sink in a bit, gestate. There will be no mass dumping of every last shred of structure in my life just yet. What I am trying to figure out in the meantime is how to be happy and feel productive while I wait for whatever it is that I'm waiting for.
If you know me, and I mean really know me, you know that I take things far too seriously. I have a tendency not only to beat a dead horse with vigor and determination but also to roll around in its mucky carcass three weeks later with no less passion.
Partially, this is due to the fact that I try to fit all the bits and pieces of my life into a running narrative, and because I am a writer, I niggle and sweat over smaller details as I attempt to jostle them into a position that affords them a more coherent meaning within the context of this personal account.
Mostly, I just need to learn the art of Getting Over Oneself.
Learning how to give it up so shamelessly in the name of entertainment should be a part of every college psychology department's requirement for convocation. This, the Fiery One sporting false eyebrows and a moustache on a Friday night in public, did more for me than a therapist ever could and was an excellent refresher crash course in Getting Over Oneself: