I hate waiting. Like, a lot.
I don’t think it’s impatience, per se, so much as a desire to achieve my goal–whatever that may be. Whether it’s finally publishing a book nearly three decades after I made the fateful decision to become a writer (Right? You’d think I’d have gained *some* patience after all that time.), or eating an entire container of salted caramel ice cream in the time it takes Netflix to ask me if I’m still binge-watching Animaniacs (“Hel-loooo, Nurse!”)–the point is, I don’t like waiting.
And yet, that’s what I’m doing right now.
Waiting, I mean. Not binge-watching Animaniacs. I mean, I’m doing that, too. Just not at the moment. Because I’m at my real job. I mean, I’m writing this from my work computer while I’m work, and not watching a 1990’s cartoon while–
Anyway, moving on…
I have a goal in sight, but its completion is dependent on me waiting for the time being. I have to give my cover artist time to create a masterpiece, I have to make sure the manuscript is as perfect as I can make it before it goes to print (that includes things such as non sequiturs and gaping plot holes, in addition to the regular bits like odd word choices and comma splices), and I have to get everything uploaded/sent to print–at which point I have to wait for people to buy the finished product.
That’s a lot of balls in the air, and it feels like they’re all dangling their sweaty, veiny hairiness right in my face.
Wow. That’s a horrifying image. Even I’m a little grossed out. Forget I said anything.
Part of being an adult is learning patience. At least, I think it is. I’m really not sure. G.I. Joe never covered that in their After-school Special BS, so what the hell do I know? Maybe being an adult is really about cartwheeling through rush hour traffic, naked as the day you were born, all while singing “Puttin’ on the Ritz”. (Bonus points if you do it Young Frankenstein-style!)
Still, assuming I am in some way correct, and patience is a thing we’re supposed to learn in our advancing years, then I’m personally doing a mighty poor job of it. I want to quit my job (Yeah, I know–who doesn’t?) but I can’t because the only thing I have to fall back on is…um, shoot. Can I get back to you on that? I want this book out, but that’s not possible just yet. Unless, of course, any of you are willing to buy a stapled copy I can print off from my work printer just to my right here. I’m sure the company won’t mind the minuscule cost of paper. Then again, they might. I mean, these people are weird about the weirdest things sometimes.
In case you haven’t figured it out yet–this post is going nowhere. I have nothing to say beyond “I hate waiting,” which I said in the very first sentence. So why are you still reading this? Because you had the patience. Me? I barely had the patience to type this thing. But it beats starting my work day, so I already feel like a winner. Not a Publishers Clearing House winner, but a distant, distant–keep going–distant second.
So, um…yeah. Let’s recap: I’m impatient, salted caramel ice cream is delicious, and Animaniacs still holds up to this day. That about cover it? Sweet. Until next time…