It’s possible that I’m starting to come to terms with living in a state of perpetual uncertainty. Maybe there’s a two week maximum on anxiety of this sort. After taking counsel in a dear friend last night, I’m reminded that getting things done the Army way can take much, much longer than should be reasonably expected. It’s not so much that I don’t care as it is that I’ve seemed to move beyond the point where fretting about it is worth the effort. It’s really an occasion where all there is to be done is lie back and think of England. The alternative is to pick up the phone and start ranting like a lunatic at the guy I’m hoping to work for at some point in the near future. That would probably be the operative definition of a situation other than good at this point. So, until further notice, I wait… and wait… and wait. At some point even the bureaucracy has to grind its way into an actual decision, right?
Tag Archives: waiting
And holding…
Tuesday will make two weeks that I’ve been sitting on the edge of my seat. No one knows that the gears of the bureaucracy grind slowly better than I do, but seriously all I’m waiting for is one simple phone call. I get that there is a laundry list of things that has to get done before making that call, but two weeks doesn’t seem like an unreasonable amount of time to get those widgets lined up. If I weren’t so stoked at the idea of bringing an end to my long mid-southern exile, I’d probably have more patience with the process. As it is, I’m feeling a bit like a 16 year old girl waiting to get asked to the prom. Honest. I sit at my desk waiting for the little blue light to flash. Or more often, obsess over why it’s not flashing.
I’m really, really ready to get this waiting part of the exercise over with. Every day, I wake up and grab on to the idea that today will be the day. I have to. Hope in getting that call is just about the only thing keeping me from climbing a nice belltower somewhere.
Virtues…
It’s said that patience is a virtue. It is, however, not one that’s ever been visited upon me. I got the genes for impatience and a general tendency towards the impulsive. In fact not turning the living room into a giant cardboard box fort in three day orgy of packing is becoming the most difficult thing I’ve done in a long time. Such is my readiness to pull up stakes in Memphis and depart for climates north of the Mason Dixon Line.
All it takes is a simple phone call and all this pent up angst can come to an end. To be replaced, of course, by dozens of frantic moments trying to put everything in place on this end and that. At least then I’ll be doing something. As it is now, I’m sitting here looking at a room full of things that need to be packed up and endlessly stalking realtor.com. Neither of which feels particularly productive at the moment.
Have patience, they say. If anyone’s got the trick to that, I’m all ears.
Something’s different…
I read a number on blogs of this infernal machine and a common refrain among my fellow drones is something like “my job sucks.” While you’ve often seen me bitching and complaining about whatever happens to be going on, I actually thoroughly enjoy what I do. When I’m bitching the loudest, I’m usually the happiest. It operates on a similar principle to only picking on the people you like. Despite it all, I can’t imagine doing anything else just now.
It’s hard, though to deny that something’s different lately. The phone isn’t ringing as often. The steady flow of e-mail has slowed to a trickle. It’s like the organization is hunkering down, doing underground to ride out the coming storm. I can’t shake the feeling that we’re in the calm now. I hate the waiting. Give me something that I can work against, something I can plan against, something to drive against. I hate the waiting.
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