Blog Archives

Waiting

There is a collection of children’s books that I acquired as a child. I remember precisely what their covers look like and how my mother sounded reading them to me. Some of them I read to myself in ritual fashion. Some of them I read to my Barbies when they weren’t being flung from my ceiling fan. These stories probably had more influence in shaping my young mind than I’ve realized before.

Today I thought about virtues. The image that flashes in my mind is the cover to a book whose home was among the Beanie Babies on a tiny bookshelf in my 6 year old self’s closet. The Book of Virtues. I can see the images in my mind, but for some reason I cannot recite to myself a single story, poem, or line from the book. I can practically smell the thing and feel the gaudy over-sized bow in my hair, but I can’t place a single word.

the book of virtues

What can this mean? That I could retain the concept of the importance of milk when giving a mouse a cookie but not a single learned moral quality from this book? Somehow I remember the prevailing quest of Corduroy the bear, the unconditional providing of The Giving Tree, and plights of The Tub People, but I am still at a loss for a mere morsel of the teachings of this “treasury.”

Maybe I don’t remember the character names or rhyming verses, but this book obviously taught me, if nothing else, what an actual virtue is. The general idea. The meaning of the word itself. I know that much. So let’s explore this for a moment.

“Patience is a virtue.” I can hear my mother speaking this phrase just as clearly as I can recall her reading to me from those books.

Patience is not something that I grasp well. I’ve always prided myself in having an extremely level head and impeccable moral compass. Much like Corduroy the bear, I understand the irrelevance of the materialistic. I make it a point to practice the selflessness depicted in The Giving Tree. I even put my drain plug in at all times in case my tub figurines come to life when I am away.

My battle with patience is a vastly different story.

Maybe this stems from the feeling that I have been constantly waiting on something my entire life. Waiting to be old enough to drive. Waiting to go off to college. Waiting to start working. Waiting for relationships to form, for someone to get me, for opportunities and excitement. Waiting for life to happen to me, when really I should have been actively seeking my own life.

waiting room

Even waiting rooms make me uneasy.

For this reason, when I want something desperately, I have an impossible time waiting to pursue it. To achieve an end result. My type of impatience has evolved in this sense, and it has its very own cycle. It all starts with a vision. An idea. It could be something as simple as deciding that I want to go rollerblading this weekend or as complex as deciding I want to move across the country by the time that I am twenty-five  (25tofly).

The initial phase is raw excitement. It begins as overwhelming, optimistic joy and certainty. However, seeing this idea to fruition is rarely immediate. After a while, anticipation can start to feel less promising and more draining. Sometimes circumstances are such that a goal takes many steps towards achieving. Some steps are less enthralling than others, and these steps take time. For me, that time often passes so slowly that it can be maddening.

It’s as if increasing the time that lapses between the establishment and accomplishment of my goal also increases the likelihood of failure. This isn’t necessarily always the case, yet the anxiety that I associate with the passing of time is unavoidable.

The point is that my impatience is a fear of waiting. Waiting is inevitable, so there is an ultimatum to reach in this cycle. I can allow the frustrations from my impatience to break me, or I can attempt to endure the home stretch. Right now I am approaching that ultimatum. I’m trying to holding out for the home stretch, and it is taking everything I’ve got.

Patience has not been my virtue, but maybe it can be.

Note: This post is out of character, but my goal here was to write something heartfelt instead of pumping out something in my typical style that was unmotivated. I want to extend a special thank you to Rich for talking me through this post and helping me to edit this piece efficiently. My friend, you certainly have no problems with patience.

becca cord signature

I’ve Been Hooked From The Start

Hello Flysters and happy Monday! Many of you may know today’s guest post author. He was mistaken as a stripper at the LaLaBec NYE Party. He is a legitimate author. He has seen many a hooker in his lifetime, but only from afar. He can handle any kind of baggage you throw at him, even emotional baggage. This guy has been one of the most devoted Flysters from the beginning. This guy faces his setbacks and never gives up on his dreams, so naturally we get along. He is my cheerleader, my supporter, clapper to my jokes, and most of all, my friend.

Please give a warm welcome to The Hook, because he is bragging on me, and that is much better than me bragging on me.

the bellman chronicles

An actual book? What is this sorcery?

Also, here is an obligatory book plug: It’s true, I own my very own autographed copy of The Bellman Chronicles. It is sitting on my bed side table. Well, it isn’t really autographed, but maybe one day it will be. I haven’t been able to finish his book yet due to this thing called blogging that has taken over my life, but I can guarantee you that I will be taking it with me on my next vacation. Because it is fun to read about hotel visitors while being a hotel visitor, right?

Enter The Hook stage left…

Why I Love Becca: A Top Eleven List.

Because any schmuck can write a Top Ten list..

DISCLAIMER: And this is solely in the unlikely event my wife reads this, by “love”, I mean the respect that exists between two bloggers, not the hot, sweaty passion that exists between two bodies locked in the throes of passion.

Moving on…

1. She has a big heart. Seriously, she can’t wear a bathing suit.

2. Her talent knows no limits. She is adept in philanthropy. She can pirouette with the best of them. Heck, for all I know, she has the proportionate speed and agility of a spider…

3. Positive is her middle name. Okay, I cannot confirm this, – it could be Gladys for all I know –  but I don’t believe I’ve ever read a negative post on her blog. Ever. No one can say that about me, I’ll tell you.

4. She bought my book. Yes, she was the one. I don’t know if she liked it, but she spent her hard-earned cash on it, so she’s aces in my book. So to speak.

5. Blogging, vlogging, you name it, she can do it. Before you cry foul, this is entirely separate from #2. I’m talking about social media skills here, people. Becca isn’t a one -trick pony. This filly has mad skills!

6. She is an extraordinarily cute mammal. Once again, I’m speaking platonically here. There is simply no denying her beauty.

7. She’s willing to open her heart and share the things that keep her up at night. There are millions of bloggers out there, writing about everything from baking to sex, but not everyone is willing to travel to those places that leave us vulnerable and open to ridicule. Fortunately for her readers, Becca is fearless.

8. People like her. They really like her. She’s earned the respect and friendship of the Daily Posts’ darling,  Le Clown, and as Jack Nicholson once said, that ain’t bad. Actually her following is legion and growing by the minute.

9. If you haven’t read her work on The Indie Chicks, there’s something seriously wrong with you. And that’s all I have to say about that.

10. She’s willing to laugh at herself. Not to mention, she has a kick-ass work ethic and an inexhaustible supply of ambition. She’s going places, folks. And I knew her when.

11. She’s a credit to the Ginger race.

Editor’s note: Even if she is a huge dye jobbing phony.

And that’s why I love Becca.

becca cord signature

Paperback Pause

The merit badge handbook grown up girls

[Look! I have a really cheesy cover, and I am cheap, but it’s what’s on the inside that counts, right? Click my obnoxious cover to buy me on Amazon. Yay!

[Also, the title says “for grown-up girls”, but that shouldn’t stop the fellas from checking it out. Would I steer you wrong? Well, not intentionally at least.]

I returned to reality and a Sunday of cooking stuffed bell peppers with a new addition to slide onto my make-shift bookshelf. In her normal fashion, Booger handed down a book to me as an early Birthday present. Its title is The Merit Badge Handbook for Grown-up Girls by Lauren Catuzzi Grandcolas. Her name makes my jaw hurt a bit, and I didn’t even attempt saying it out loud. Filled with activities, projects, goal ideas, and new learning/experience opportunities, you could think of this book as a sort of generalized bucket list and guide. My initial appreciative reaction was quickly followed with eagerness to start flipping pages. Upon doing so, something unexpected happened.

The beginning of this year had me sulking in the realization of all the things I have yet to do in/with my life. I have a hard time being patient when on a quest. Nothing was helping, especially not seeing all the cool stuff other people around me were doing. Then, I began writing again and went from sulking to basking in the new-found determination I had to start doing things. New or different or scary or silly or constructive or whatever kind of things, it didn’t matter. No more ruts. Read the rest of this entry

%d bloggers like this: