Impatient Me

I want what I want, and I want it now.

I'm impatient.  I'm realizing this more and more.  I'm working on it.

1. In the car, stuck in holiday shopping traffic.  I'm telling all the cars ahead of me in all the languages I know to hurry up.  Apúrate.  Dépêche-toi.  Why am I in such a hurry?  I have a span of time in which to lie back comfortably.  I have no deadlines.  What is this restlessness?  This energy to keep moving, and now?

2. Craving for chocolate.  Deep, gooey, dark, fudgy chocolate.  Brownies.  I want them now.  I bought a box. Whipped them up.  Popped them in the oven.  Couldn't wait.  I left them in the time it said to leave them in, but they still weren't done through and through.  Let them cool off, they'll set, it'll be okay.  I love gooey, almost to the point of still batter-y brownies, but the bottom line is that they weren't done.  But I still cut into them and satisfied my craving.  But they weren't done.  But I wanted them now.

3. Talking to my friend.  She didn't want to distract me while I was writing papers, so she waited to tell me.  The words start tumbling out, sometimes talking over her.  "I think—" "You should—" "You shouldn't—"  The words bubbling up, they can't wait to get out, I have to tell her that . . . Really?  You can't just let her talk and you just listen?  Maybe she doesn't want opinions and solutions.  Maybe she just wants to be heard.  And that includes closing your overactive mouth and listening.  And waiting.  She waited to tell you, so you can't wait to listen?  But the words bubbling up and burning.  I wanted to say it now.

4. A new purple monkey on my bed I couldn't wait to get.  Sitting at my laptop, fingers going, mind racing and wondering.  I can't wait.  I want to know now.  I want what I want, and I want it now.  Steeling myself.  Let the uncertainty and impatience wash over me like hot waves.  What is this restlessness?  I have a span of time in which to lie back comfortably.  Don't you dare pick that burden back up.  Snatch your hand away from it like a touched hot iron. It isn't yours.