Crying, tired, hot, did I say hot - what a week

Recovery from surgery, work, work, work, work, funeral with llllllllllooooooooooootttttttttttsssss of crying - what a week and now it's Friday.

Normal is as normal does. It's in the everyday, the ordinary, by definition. Wake up in the morning and head to work. Put in a full day, do a few errands. Cook dinner, throw away yesterday's paper. Watch a little TV, or read, or coax a little evening conversation. Lay down and ready yourself to do it all again tomorrow.

I still believe I'm destined for extraordinary things. Exceptional, life changing things. Legacy things. Impact things. I've got ideas, in my little mind. I've got plans and dreams of making a difference in this world. Of slaying dragons, of conquering fears, of saving lives and of unearthing buried talents.

What resides within a person, enabling them to cross that line between good and great, between normal and ethereal, between ordinary and extraordinary? It lives in me, I'm sure of it. Even if I don't always know what it looks like, or recognize it when I see it. Even if I have a tendency to pack it away temporarily in a little locked box, hoarding my extraordinaries away for safekeeping. And there they'll be, waiting for me, in a moment of inspiration or insanity or curiosity, to open the lid, unpack the contents, and study the wonders inside.
There are times I may have doubted, but I've always really known.
It lives in me.