It seems a bit ironic that a creature of impulse cannot stand the stochastic processes that go through the minds of those around her.  I need direction and insight at all times into the behavior of those around me.  I need to know when others are stuck in the quagmire and I need to know that they are making progress in getting unstuck.  Of course, this is only relevant when it pertains to me.  I am a creature of schedules and road maps even though I am apt to buck either when it suits me.  As I continue to evolve in this post-antisocial world of mine, I try my hardest to limit my frustrations to situations and not people.  However, I am certain that such frustrations are a function of my narcissism, as to flounder is to waste both my time  and my ego – things that I value very deeply.  If this is true – that narcissism drives my need to have the stars charted and the cartographers’ work completed – then it is something I must work on as with everything else.

Everyone is stochastic to some extent.  A gift of existence is the ability to avoid fate by exercising one’s free will.  That said, I am an egomaniac that must know how my possessions do and will interact with me.  I need to know what the impact of the moment will be.  I need to observe the present in order to predict the future.  Uncertainty is poison.  Uncertainty suggests that there may be no impact on me, which is intolerable.  I would rather have my ego deflate under the pressure of certainty than to be pushed and pulled, not knowing whether I am honored or not.  Consider an appointment for coffee.  Is it not better to be told that company for coffee is impossible rather than to wonder if the approaching time will be met with company or not?  Now replace ‘coffee’ with “manna for the ego” and you’ll understand just how my narcissism cannot tolerate uncertainty.

Such is life, however.   Life is rarely neat and predictable.  The plant cannot depend on regularly scheduled rain, as it must be prepared for both famine and feast.  However, the plant, with sufficient starvation, will die.  This is how it feels for the ego of the narcissist.  I am working toward the ability to survive both bounty and want.  But, in working toward this goal, I find myself woefully unprepared for the uncertainty as to whether to expect plentiful fields or barren desolation.  A few years ago, I would tear into those that could not commit to energizing me.  Now, I can show patience and limited understanding.  While I do not feel guilt, I am still distraught that I must be as concerned as I am with the ego massaging I demand.  I would rather be without that the pain, but I realize that it is not the responsibility of others to be concerned with my ego’s stitched frame.  I alone will sight the stars the best that I can while I wait for dawn to render it all irrelevant.