Waiting Is My Least Favorite Game

I have never been a man of action, Modern Philosophers.

Everything I have in life simply fell into my lap, or eventually came to me on its own because it grew frustrated waiting for me to make a move to go and get it.

Part of dealing with a problem is acknowledging that you have one.  I’m all for admitting that this is an issue for me, but I think I’m just going to let the solution present itself.

Since I’ve chosen this ridiculous life philosophy, you would think I would be a very patient man.  Nothing could be further from the truth.

I am forever frustrated because things never happen the way I want them to, yet I do nothing to break a cycle that is destined for failure.

The fault in all this could lie with me, but I like to think that someone else is to blame for my lack of aggression in going after what I want.  I say that because I am ambitious, yet scared to death to take a chance, rock the boat, or put myself out there.

A deep-seated fear of failure paralyzes me, and I’m pretty sure I know who is responsible for that, but now is not the time to point fingers.

I’d rather just sit back and allow that person to eventually confess to the crime.

So what the hell am I rambling about?  The post seems to have gone off the rails, and is about to plunge off the cliff and into the icy waters below.

This is what happens whenever I try to figure out or explain how my mind works.  Whatever is going on under my skull is too complicated for me to decipher, so I will just leave that to the professionals.

At the moment, I’m simply looking to vent about how much I hate The Waiting Game.

I’m very impatient for a man of inaction.  Like I said, I’m a complicated guy.

Last Saturday, a very big surprise was sprung on me.  It’s has to do with my writing career, and it will be extremely major news if I ever get to announce it.

At the moment, however, I said I would keep it under wraps as there are a lot of moving parts, and so many complications.

Because, as you know, nothing can ever come easily for me.

I’ve entrusted a few select friends with bits and pieces of the surprise, but I’ve kept it mostly bottled up inside, which is driving me insane.

For once, I’d just like to be able to share major news, celebrate it at a level slightly out of proportion for the news, and then walk around smiling from ear to ear for a few days.

Instead, I keep everything locked away in the mental vault, try not to act like something life changing could happen at any moment, and put on a mask of stoic complacency so no one suspects I might be happy.

Sure, I’ve allowed myself little moments of inner joy and some daydreaming about what might be.

Then I shut that $%^& down quickly.  And it’s not because I don’t want to allow myself happiness.

I’ve just been burned so often, and I’m not sure if my psyche can survive another skin graft.

I know I have the talent to be a writer in Hollywood.  I’m just not sure if I have the proper mentality to deal with the constant disappointments.

I received a quick update last night, and we are still playing The Waiting Game.  Sigh.

I’d rather just play Monopoly because then I could raid the bank, and use all that money to finance my projects and not need to wait for Hollywood to come calling…