I’m not a very patient person.
And that is the understatement of the century.
Simply put: Patience. I have none.
And I have come to believe that my complete and utter lack of patience is the very core of all my shortcomings, the reason for all my odd quirks, the epicenter of my moods.
Why is my handwriting bad? I’m impatient.
Why do I eat so fast? I’m impatient.
Why are my clothes never folded, my nails never polish, why is this list pretty short… Impatient.
It extends much deeper than that, I think.
Why do I host a lot of parties?
Well, I guess I don’t like waiting for others to put something together in order to be social. Once I get an idea for an activity, I pretty much have the urge to do it immediately. And while I am good at making my home a welcoming place, I pretty much do the bare minimum when it comes to making hostessing treats (pizza rolls) or drinks (solo cups) or décor (none). I’m a big advocate of the phrase, “Let do this!” and, yes, that ideology seems to be the stark opposite of patience, whose catchphrase is probably something like, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Let’s take some time to plan before diving in to anything.”
Why am I so busy all the time?
1.“Let’s do this!” (See above). 2. I like rules of three but don’t have time to think of a second reason so I’m just going to pass on through to… 3. If I’m not busy that means I have to sit still, and fuck that! That takes patience.
How am I so driven?
I can’t stop, won’t stop. Even if I wanted to. I’m a big carpe diem-der. And I like using every ounce of my day as a means to improve, get further, be better.
From this viewpoint, I’m think it’s safe to say that I love being impatient! I love that I have energy to burn and dreams to pursue! Having no patience really opens my horizons to the world of “yes, and,” an improv cult, er, philosophy that I hold really dear to my heart.
That’s not to say that having no patience comes without its shortcomings. (CHECK OUT THAT TRIPLE NEGATIVE, YO. Neg, then pos, then neg again!)
It does.
On the surface level, I’m always running into things, spilling things, and essentially looking like the opening montage of romcom when the girl, “just can’t seem to get it together.” (spilled coffee, pencil in hair, frowny face.)
Breezing though life often showcases my naivety, whether I misuse a word or misspell it in writing simply because I’m eager for my writing to be seen or I’m anxious to get to the next misspell.
And speaking of anxiety, boy oh boy does having no patience aid in that endeavor! I have extreme obsessive tendencies where my brain gets stuck on repeat; like a broken record or a hook to a shitty hip hop song. I have trouble sleeping; it’s like my body demands that the next day just be here already. And I am constantly shifting my opinion of my looks, my brain, and my worth.
I want diets to work immediately, I need an answer to my questions the moment I ask them, and I struggle sometimes with seeing another person’s perspective when it is in the way of me getting from point A to point B.
If you have ever personally been upset with me, I guarantee it’s because I did something out of my lack of patience.
So, yeah, it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.
On the one end, having no patience makes me a driven, positive, energetic go-getter with gumption. (I love that word, gumption.) On the other end, having no patience makes me a spoiled brat with tunnel vision.
I wonder if this is true with everyone, that we all have a core “patience scale” that predetermines all of the other traits, quirks, and moods we have. Or, if it’s not specifically patience, that there is one core trait that dictates who we are and what we can accomplish. What’s yours?
It’s ironic that I chose to live in this city and pursue this career considering this whole patience thing. It almost is the ultimate test. All the traffic, all the people, all the writers who are in the same line I’m in, trying to squeeze through the same funnel I’m squeezing through, hoping they’re one of the few who make it to the other side. I can’t tell you how many (successful) people have reminded me that this career-path is, “not a sprint” and that I have “plenty of time.” Honestly, when I hear those choice words it makes me want to break a pencil, even though in my heart I know they’re right.
What’s weird is there are exactly three things I like doing that I’m incredibly patient at. I can honestly sit and write for hours if I wanted you, and I never judge the time it takes me to complete a piece of writing, or revise a piece of writing. Even at dead stand stills and immense writers blockage, I usually have the patience to push through it and keep chugging along.
It’s the perfect blend of patience and drive.
The second is whenever I get a chance to perform. Honestly, I could rehearse and improvise and sing and perform and act forever. Stand up sets just fly by even if I am bombing, play rehearsals get richer and more fun the longer I go at it, and I feel lucky to have the skill of quick thinking when it comes to long-form improv. I know it’s a feat that so many other students of improvisation struggle with, and for me it comes pretty natural.
Again, it’s a blend of quickness and calm.
The last thing is a bit hokey, but it’s true so whatev. I could probably sit and do absolutely nothing with my boyfriend forever.
So, in that sense, we’re a blend of being patient and not.
I better keep him around.
So yeah. I have no patience. My legs have bruises because I don’t look out for door frames. My shirt has a stain because I didn’t bother to check the mirror before I left the house. And no matter how many times I re-read, this blog post will probably have a shit ton of typos.
I want to end on a button, but who has time for that?
– One L
Jafar: “Patience, Iago, patience. Gazeem was obviously less than worthy.”
Iago: “Oh, there’s a big surprise! That’s an incredib… I think I’m gonna have a heart attack and die from that surprise!
In the Sun with Alison 