Waiting

Waiting is OK, but you don’t want to wait in vain (cue Bob Marley). Seriously, one of the things I hate most in this life is waiting for a friend, or a bus, or whatever, that may or may not show up. You can feel yourself getting older in these instances. Also, not having some kind of timeline to go by – when I could be waiting a minute, or an hour, I just don’t know – causes frustration and angst.

Having a book, listening to music, enjoying scenery, is a balm when waiting (cue Mrs. Cohen: “Don’t give him a balm! It might bite him!”)

Sometimes, waiting increases the pleasure when the thing you’re waiting for …erm… comes.

While waiting, sometimes my brain turns to the existential. This can be good or bad, depending on the day. Sometimes my mind wanders into the complexities of the universe and the wondrous possibilities of what being self-aware really means. At other times, I wonder if my self-awareness isn’t just some random chemical reaction, and that the only conclusion to which life can come is a strict cut off of thought and feeling – I was born in 1969. Where was I before that? I will die in 20__. Where will I be after that? Isn’t this the same question? In this sense, waiting can take on another meaning, again depending on the day.