I was supposed to talk to m dharma teacher last night. At 8 PM. I was still working. At 8:20, I called the conference line number and GOT MUSIC. No talking with my dharma buddies and with Larry. Whaaaaaaaa. It's sometimes so hard to appear normal but I manage to all day. Normal hair, normal clothes, normal food. But really, I crave solitude, lots of it, and wild nature and more solitude and music and books and writing and the company of my writer friends who are decidedly not normal and dharma teachers.
So today at therapy I acted like a big baby, which is what I have been calling everyone lately. A Big Baby. Obama is a Big Baby. Tiger Woods is a Big (naughty) Baby. Our senators are a bunch of Big Babies. Only real babies get to be legitimate Big Babies. So everyone gets to get over their Big Baby-ness. Right now. I guess that includes me.
Although my therapist told me I'm fine just the way I am. I pay her to say that. But still, it could be true.
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