the perils of waiting and the lack thereof

It has been said so many times that it has become a cliché way to begin the writing of letters, uttering of monologues, the opening scenes of romantic comedies, and a dozen other conceptions of emotional expression. But I’ll say it anyway... because it works for me, too...

Some people spend their entire lives waiting.

They wait for the light to turn green, they wait in line at the grocery store, they wait for the package in the mail, they wait for their lottery ticket to be a winner. They wait for school to be over so they can wait for the perfect job opportunity so they can wait to meet Mr./Mrs. Right so they can wait to get married and then wait for a child, and then wait for a house, and then wait to die. All this god damn waiting and no appreciation for all that goes on in between.

In a somewhat shameful way, I will raise my hand along with the others admitting to falling guilty of playing the waiting game...

...but it has been over the past few years that I’ve discovered how much more exciting the "in between"s are than what it is I’m actually waiting for.

While waiting to graduate, while waiting for "Mr. Right", while waiting for work to feel fulfilling... I escaped somewhere that made me forget about all those things... and I made the most incredible memories I’ll ever know.

I let myself go, released myself of the pressures and binds of the things we, as young people, are expected to wait for. I put my hand down and pulled out my big red, pentagonal "STOP" sign and all those judgmental fingers came to a screeching halt. I'll get my sleep next week, but this weekend I'll sacrifice it. I made it clear and relevant to myself and to anyone who dare question my motives, that if not for keeping myself happy and sane, I will able to achieve a fulfilling life.

I know I’ve said this a hundred times before, but I can’t stress enough how much the fact that while everything around me changed and flew by in different directions, it was the few and far away that always remained the same. The constants; the people who know without words, and laugh without reason. The people who have stopped waiting and started to smile with not just their mouth, but with every ounce of brightness that they've had the ability to conjure up by NOT waiting.

And I stress how much you need to know this because I was in a miserable place before I went down that path... that yellow brick road. I was a person I’m not exactly proud to admit to; those people I've met over the years have brought out amazing pieces of me. I’m proud to be someone who isn’t always waiting, and someone who gets in trouble for making last minute decisions because I just can’t wait.

But we move... we move in, we move out, we move others and are moved by others. Watching those constants move on is inevitable and a piece of me knows deep down that my life, from then on out, will never be the same without them. I’m torn… but I’m happy. I’m excited for them because I know that it is all a product of not waiting. I can only hope that during this experience we are all able to meet people that will change your life and your state of mind in as positive a way as they are able to change mine.

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my addiction to...

My eyes dart around the room, making sure no one else is looking at my computer, and my anxious fingers run up the mouse and move into the URL bar in my Safari browser. I know I'm not supposed to do it, and sometimes I don't even realize I'm doing it. At first I'm curiously checking out business-related websites for the latest prices on product or reading local news to gather some insight on promotional advantages...

...And then it happens. My eyes go glossy, my fingers are too distracted by clicking rapidly throughout the hundreds of home-pages to realize that Alvin & the Chipmunks has come on the stereo. A good 3 and a half minutes go by before I get a glance from a coworker that is so frustrated and burning that it catches my attention and I fumble for the remote to put on the Arabic and Argentinean mix CD so I can once again eliminate a distraction.

Is it the excitement of being able to sit on my ass, not move a muscle, and search for ANY little thing I could possibly want? To be able to purchase it and have it in my hands within a couple of days, depending on how much I'm willing to spend on S&H? And what about those days where you stumble upon "free shipping"!? Oh, the GLORY and WARMTH that fills my heart upon seeing that red-highlighted "free shipping!" notification after hours of searching ebay for everything I don't need. Hell, sometimes I'll buy things based on the "free shipping" alone!

Despite the excitement of the find, the disbelief of discounted prices, the anxious anticipating for the 5-7 business days following, or the great reviews of sellers by buyers just like myself, it is something else that makes this all worth while.

It's pouring with rain. It's BEEN pouring with rain in the state of New York for what seems like the past century. Another god damned day when my iPhone told me it would be sunny, and yet again I am forced to question if this is the second coming of The Great Flood. My boyfriend's band practice is running late so the excitement of coming home to him is eliminated. I got a notice in the mail about some $300.00 fine for a book I forgot to return to the library 2 years ago. And to top it all off, as I walk up my front yard, my shoe gets stuck in the mud before I take the next step, and the next thing I know I am ankle deep in my precious pooch's post-dinner poops. You have GOT to be fucking kidding me. I whip open the screen door, slamming it into the mail-box, and hop in the house soaking wet with a stocking stuffed with shit. I don't even know where to go from here. Upstairs to the shower? Outside to the hose? Downstairs to the basement to grab a bottle of whiskey and drown my days worth of petty sorrows away?

While my eyes scan the room for some sort of divine sign that will answer my traumatic troubles, I see it. There! There on the dining room table! A large cardboard box with MY NAME on it!

Suddenly I retreat back to the zone... the frequent shopper zone... What could it be?! Which order could this be?! It doesn't even matter! ALL THE WORLD'S PROBLEMS ARE SOLVED! I am standing on my stepmother's oriental rug, dripping with feces and the hairspray that has now managed to run from the top of my soaking wet head to the soles of my tights. I am tearing open the box and throwing that styrofoam crap all over the place. And there it is. HERE IT IS! The EXACT same t-shirt Dominic Monaghan wore on the 3rd episode of the 2nd season of LOST! I don't even wear t-shirts!

It's that feeling, that moment of arrival, that makes all the unnecessary and crazy hours seemingly wasted in the deepest depths of the internet 110% worth it. I spent $42.89 for a t-shirt I probably could have found in Walmart given enough time. But the receiving of a package in the mail is unlike most excitements in life. For those of us who are workaholic losers who cannot get out and see the world... we have ebay.

If you sprinkle when you tinkle...

While I have perfected my etiquette for dinner parties, interviews, and other meetings in which crossed legs and properly placed fancy napkins are a requirement, I can also admit that behind closed doors I'm another gal. There have been several Sunday mornings in which I've spent hunched over a toilet with my fingers down my throat trying to relieve my body of the dehydration and pain caused by the previous nights' consumption of vodka shots and keg stands. If you catch me making the still-half-asleep-walk from the bedroom to the bathroom in the morning, chances are my sweatpants have fallen to my ankles before my arrival because of my preference to ancient, ex-boyfriend attire versus a pink, silky nighty. I burp without excusing myself (in front of people), I creatively construct sentences that put new meaning to the word "profane", and I am like a 6 year old when it comes to trying to convince me to take a shower. However, I always flush the toilet.

When exactly was it that the slightest amount of parental coaching and the ever-popular handle on the side of America's toilets stopped being enough to remind us humans that the rest of the population don't want to see our fecal matter? Why is it that more than 50% of the public bathrooms I've had the honor of peeing in now come equipped with some clip-art detailed notice on "what to do next"?

And ladies, how exactly is it that we manage to sprinkle when we tinkle? Perhaps I'm anatomically incorrect, but the last time I went I don't recall the ability to get it anywhere else. Can we, too, write our names in the snow?

Perhaps my weary, part-time job days of latex gloved hands scrubbing the unknown off of that familiar white ceramic have come to an expiration. However, the signs that direct us on what to do in places rarely occupied by those who are still being potty trained, have become a category of their own.

A quick Google search of "funny bathroom signs" will get your mind off of the days work for a good 20 minutes, so allow me to show you some I find completely unnecessary, and others that are just hysterical:

The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street

if you have not seen this episode of The Twilight Zone, I suggest you take this opportunity in the next 25 minutes to do so. If you're at work, at the library, or at school.. put your head phones in. If you're at home, stop refreshing your facebook page and take a look.

This portrays an alternative view of human behavior, one in which I find far too accurate. We could learn a lesson or two from Mr. Rod Serling...


Watch 22. The Twilight Zone - The Monsters Are Due On Maple Street in Entertainment Videos  |  View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com

"Dreams are real while they last -- can we say more of life?" Ch. 13 p. 311

she does this thing in bed...