All right, confession time: I am really, really bad at waiting.
I hate it so much. I know most folks don’t enjoy it, but for me it’s suffering.
People say things like “live in the moment,” and “make every second count,” and I guess I internalized those ideas real well, because when I feel like I’m wasting time, I feel almost literally sick. It’s like I have this sense that waiting is something that should happen to other people.
Well, no; I feel like waiting shouldn’t happen at all. My time is no more precious than anyone else’s, and I think if we all synced our clocks and planned appropriately, we’d never have to wait on anything or anyone ever again. Wouldn’t that beautiful? And mind-numbingly boring?
Actually, it’s boredom that’s the problem. I hate to admit it when there’s so much cool stuff in the world, but I get bored extremely easily and when my brain runs out of interesting things to devour it starts eating itself. When I wait, staring at a loading screen or whatever, my brain cells join hands and jump off bridges.
Maybe they’re just hoping there’s something interesting at the bottom.
So, instead of waiting, I make stuff. And I do stuff, and I think stuff, and I write it down. And then I finish it, and send it out to be considered for publication, or representation, or reaction, or whatever, and then you know what happens once I spent all that time doing things that aren’t waiting?
I have to wait.