The Waiting and the Tightrope

There have been some damn frustrating days of late. I'm checking the mailbox on a daily basis, looking for the envelope with "Peace Corps" on it that will finally let me know where I'll be going. Nothing there. The waiting is insidious. It's pervasive. The waiting is a sour ingredient turning me off of my daily fare. The waiting drains the fun out. The waiting makes me cranky. The waiting makes me even less likely to put up with the ridiculousness of other humans. The waiting makes me much more likely to speak my mind minus the diplomatic cushioning I've perfected over the years.

Everywhere I look there are stale pages. The story old and over told. The waiting amplifies the fact that I've evolved beyond my surroundings, and it's time to move on. It makes the usual mundane, and the bland brutal.

I've started a new job. It's only a time filler, part-time, but the new faces are good. Still, I wonder if I would have been better off to do something that served the hungry part of my soul. I'm making some money, but not enough to matter. Part of me wants to seek what adventure I can now, in the meantime, and cheat the waiting.

I'm a fixer at heart...I want to do something.

The legendary circus performer Karl Wallenda said it best:

"Being on the tightrope is living. Everything else is just waiting."

I'm over the waiting. Bring on the tightrope.