Reflection of Patience

I had a quip when I was younger in antithesis to the common phrasing used when speaking about patience, "Patience is a vice."

When "on submission," one can truly feel the magnitude of misunderstanding my younger self exhibited. When in control of something, patience may indeed be a vice. As a young person with little experience in the workings of adulthood, making one’s mark felt entirely within control and therefore, waiting was nonsensical. As a writer with so so so so so so so so so so so so sos (not an accident) so so so so so so so so very little control over our authorial futures, my naivety hits me like a full force gale.

Patience IS the game and any helpful amount of it is a gratuitous virtue. The only way forward is through almost blind obsequiousness to those entrusted in playing for you. I suppose one (myself) could ask for updates, demand answers to questions, and disproportionately affect the mood, but all those seek to destroy what possibilities may lie ahead.

What is there to do but wait?

Write, you say? Push on to the next thing, you say? Create new worlds with new characters and new toys to play with, you say?

Yes, indeed. Also, there’s wallowing in one’s misery. A perfectly viable option for those of us less inclined to optimism.

Give me a bucket, please.