Thursday, March 5, 2009

Delusions of Grandeur

(Pre-script: This post will be fantastically brilliant if you read it as the song, "Viva La Vida," by Coldplay plays. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading...I'll wait...)(...still waiting. You can't see it, but in this picture we are cutting birthday cake. Birthday cake could be a fabulous delusion of grandeur. Think about it.)
I was thinking this morning that I might be a person who suffers from the condition that causes you to have what are known as delusions of grandeur. You know the type. He/She talks about how He/She is going to become a major Soap Opera star, just as soon as He/She packs His/Her station wagon and drives to Hollywood. You listen and think, "Hmmm...someone's parents were maybe a LEETLE too complimentary to...Jim/Jennie here."
Reality is a good place to live, peeps. Sometimes. Okay, I take that back. Reality is a terrible place to live, sometimes almost tolerable. Delusions make way for...hope and happiness, In this world, and also in the world to come.
If you are always delusional, always telling people you will, yes, become the Governor of California, just as soon do, then you are always striving for it, then you have a reason to live, a goal, and that's the thrill of the delusion. And hey, if a heavily accented Heavy Weight World Champion and movie star who has also championed phrases like "It's not a tumor" can become the Governor, why can't you? Heck, Arnold Schwarzenegger probably lived his life based on delusions, too. He was probably so annoying to all of his Austrian friends during yodeling class, saying things like, "You know, I will someday marry into the most famous family in the United States of America, I will become a World Class Heavy Weight Champion, a Movie Star, and the Governor of California. I will be an icon." And the Austrian friends would roll their eyes and say, "Can't you just be content to move to America?"
Comments Arnold would probably not answer, except maybe to say to the nearest naysayer, "Spot Me," while breathing heavily through another tough bench press.

"But Michelle,"

my imaginary, some might say delusionary, Reader is interrupting, I can just hear it,

"Michelle, that's all well and good, but what are YOUR delusions of grandeur, per se?"

Gentle Reader, how kind of you to ask. The first delusion I have already mentioned, and that would be YOU, Dear Imaginary Reader.


Yes, you. You see, you have been interrupting my carefully thought out writing for some time now, and I have come to get used to your very inquisitive, curious mind.

"Wow, Michelle, I am speechless. Sort of crying now; I was getting a sense that you were tired of me, that you found me to be incredibly annoying."

No, gentle reader. I am touched that you care enough to ask me such personal and probing questions. Interrupt my thought process anytime."

"Okay, Michelle, okay. Aaaahhhh, can I say I'm so touched again?"

"Yes, but then I need to finish writing this."

"Okay...I'm so touched. Now I'm shutting up."


So as I was saying, there is the Gentle Reader delusion. There is also the Olympic Marathon Runner delusion. I think it's delusional because most people stop at, "I'm a runner." but I have to push the envelope. It makes me train that much harder, stronger, and longer. Is that so wrong?? Of course, I am also aware that I don't actually want to have to go to the Olympics and compete with people all around, who are sweating in languages I can't understand. I am aware that there would be boring ceremonies to sit through, running while carrying a heavy burning torch might be involved, some sordid steroids scandal that I would SWEAR, no, I did not inhale, no, no one rubbed mysterious cream on me during a muscle massage...but that's getting personal. There would be endorsement deals for products I don't actually care about... all that, when all I really want is a pair of custom made running shoes as often as I wear them out, and to look smokin' hot in that skimpy professional Olympic Running outfit. Never mind that red is totally not my color.
Another delusion: National Poet Laureate who writes and reads an original poem for the Presidential Inauguration. Except I really really believe that can happen, with all of my heart and soul and mind and strength.

"Ahem, Michelle,"

Gentle reader, why are you whispering?

"Michelle, I told you I wouldn't interrupt anymore, but I can't resist."

Alright, dear Imaginary Friend, go ahead.

"Michelle, you actually believe it. That's why it's called a delusion."

OKAY, Gentle Reader, OKAY, you have gone too far this time. That's enough. Didn't you read the part about delusions bringing hope and happiness to a life?? GOSH!!!!
And now I have to go. I've got to write a letter to the Olympics committee asking them if I actually will have to wear red near my face, and if so, can they please consider a nice blue red, as opposed to an orangey red, since I do not have an olive complexion, and then I have to practice running while carrying a large burning torch.


No comments: