Waiting

I'm not a very patient person, but I know I have to be. It comes with the territory of being alone. It's okay to be alone. I have two or three friends and some email buddies and some other people I happen to hang out with. Far too many acquaintances. That's not to say that I'd rather they be friends, but I enjoy being friendly, it adds to my sense of community and general liking of the world around me. I started writing a new screenplay where I examine my brain through past experiences. It's written through montage of memories coupled with present day encounters and voice overs that just happen to be not voice overs and true on screen dialogue like asides in plays. I was just watching Jules et Jim by Francois Truffaut, my favorite director and got to feel non-linear for a while. It's so weird to watch the contrast between Hollywood and certain foreign films. They are surprisingly different. It makes me wonder how idiotic people are when they naively say that foreign films are boring. Hollywood just happens to spoon-feed everyone information and occasionally happens to create emotions and stuff while true film auteurs make you think in awe of their film world, think in new ways you hadn't imagined before.

I had a fun day today, but like all days they happen to be filled with too much thought. If I thought less, maybe I would be even more content. I'm calm and often peaceful, most often content unless my mind gets away from me and sometimes even energetically odd. The last few weeks something has been bothering me and at the same time bringing me closer, making me happier than usual for mere hours of the week and making me impatient for it to come again the rest of the time. Something else is recent which I'd like to package back into the past and I've done a fairly good job. These bothers contain a specific item from the past and one that is in the present. A specific item in the present that makes me falter in the past and hope or despair for the future. What about my future? I'm going to be waiting a while. I have to get used to that. I still feel like I'm always waiting no matter how long. I'm not patient as stated. I will be waiting for this nameless thing because that is all I can control, my ability to wait. Which as stated, is no ability of mine. I'll make it mine and hope for a better future. I wish this school year were over and I would have my career and start my life.

Note that my career is not one of the two items above. This quarter is almost over and then I have two more to dread and hopefully enjoy. I truly hope I enjoy them because then I'll probably enjoy teaching too. I will be teaching during the next two quarters. I worry about the next two weeks. I have a faire to coordinate. I hate that. It's the holidays again and here I am. I went up for Thanksgiving last year with my brother. The year before that my mom was alive. A week or so after Thanksgiving, we had Christmas since Mom wouldn't live to see it. Don't be sad about that, I only feel calm about it, it's almost comforting, sadly comforting, but not an open wound. I won't be looking around at the happy faces this Thanksgiving wondering where Mom would have sat, I didn't last year either. Somehow, unlike everything else, I accepted her death far too fast, faster than her death, in fact. What a luxury. I admire myself on that point. And as many know, I could do with more humility, so could my brother.

None of this matters since it's a secret, right? That's the great thing about writing. It's comforting and calming just by its act. I feel better. I've been writing a lot lately. I've been impatient lately. I've been everywhere lately. Right now, I'm just content and that's how I like it. I wish my life would speed up and at the same time slow down. I want to know what's coming next, but I also am always far too shocked when it comes.