Patience is a virtue (ack! ack!)
There is an underlying melancholy here at Surface Tension.
Not a debilitating sadness, but a light haze – like when you squint and the world goes all feathery and off-focus.
It is definitely on the outskirts of Happytown; it’s that dangerous part of town where you’re parents warned you never to go – but you went there anyway and had some wino buy you beer and you got in serious deep shit.
(And I need to clarify the moment; I went from night shift to immediate day shift and in the middle, had a girlfriend call me from Vegas at 2:41 a.m. as the city fathers imploded the Stardust casino and she wanted to share the moment with me, which is OK because she was so happy and excited to see it. I, however, remain in a droopy funk that no amount of caffeine seems to want to fix – and I have to be really creative and original today.)
But this melancholy has been out there, floating on the fringe, for a few days.
Physically, I feel great. Mentally, super. Emotionally, check. Good there.
There’s just this tiny little itch I can’t scratch.
Transition. Maybe that’s what I feel.
I remain open to new experiences, new love, new adventures – fuck, I can see them on the horizon, like a breaking sunrise that spreads from blackness to a sky-burst of brilliant colors.
I just can’t get there from here.
OK, I can’t get there fast enough.
(Too much debris from the old life to wade through; but I have to get through it to come out on the other bank and truly appreciate where I’ve been – and where I’m going. And having to live under the old rules, the old model of someone else’s life, grates on me.)
My soul, my intellect, my heart each have this slight little ache, because each is so ready to be filled with “what’s next.”
I am to be patient.
OK, I can be patient.
I just don’t have to like it.
And it's not an infinite sadness (thank God).
Not a debilitating sadness, but a light haze – like when you squint and the world goes all feathery and off-focus.
It is definitely on the outskirts of Happytown; it’s that dangerous part of town where you’re parents warned you never to go – but you went there anyway and had some wino buy you beer and you got in serious deep shit.
(And I need to clarify the moment; I went from night shift to immediate day shift and in the middle, had a girlfriend call me from Vegas at 2:41 a.m. as the city fathers imploded the Stardust casino and she wanted to share the moment with me, which is OK because she was so happy and excited to see it. I, however, remain in a droopy funk that no amount of caffeine seems to want to fix – and I have to be really creative and original today.)
But this melancholy has been out there, floating on the fringe, for a few days.
Physically, I feel great. Mentally, super. Emotionally, check. Good there.
There’s just this tiny little itch I can’t scratch.
Transition. Maybe that’s what I feel.
I remain open to new experiences, new love, new adventures – fuck, I can see them on the horizon, like a breaking sunrise that spreads from blackness to a sky-burst of brilliant colors.
I just can’t get there from here.
OK, I can’t get there fast enough.
(Too much debris from the old life to wade through; but I have to get through it to come out on the other bank and truly appreciate where I’ve been – and where I’m going. And having to live under the old rules, the old model of someone else’s life, grates on me.)
My soul, my intellect, my heart each have this slight little ache, because each is so ready to be filled with “what’s next.”
I am to be patient.
OK, I can be patient.
I just don’t have to like it.
And it's not an infinite sadness (thank God).
Comments
Her son(me) would reply "He who hesitates is lost"
We would both chuckle and go on with life.
My favorite quote on patience is:
"I'm am not known for my patience. Patience is a polite quality and often appropriate, but it rarely gets things done.
Impatience, however, is the hunger for results and intolerance for excuses and delays."
Lance Armstrong