I once read something that said “Everything I need to know, I learned in Kindergarten”. I don’t necessarily remember the specifics, but I imagine it was the basics: reading, writing, sharing, how to make and be a good friend. How to have good manners, and be respectful. Basic math and numbers. And, much to my dismay, how to be patient. I don’t like to brag, but I was a brilliant child. I was reading and writing by the age of 3, and doing it quite well by four. I told my kindergarten teacher when practicing as a class counting to twenty “I can count wayyyy higher than that”. Colored in the lines, was sensitive to the needs of others, shared with my friends, let them contribute their ideas to games. All of the things a good 4/5 year old kindergartener should be. But I sucked at waiting. I mean, really totally awful at it. We were always arranged alphabetically by last name (tribute to a kindergarten on an Air Force base) and I was, always ALWAYS last. Last to get my snack. Last to get construction paper for the craft. Last to get to line up. Last. Last. Last. “Be patient, everyone will get a chance” I fully understand the theory of it, and rationally speaking waiting should not have been that big a deal, but darn it, I hated waiting! Hated it. Hated waiting in class; hated waiting for my big brother to get out of class to come walk me home; hated waiting for my little sister to finally decide she was ready to go. Just no patience whatsoever.
Fast forward a couple decades, here I am, in a business where a lot of time is spent waiting. There was a brutal stage of the attempt to eliminate waiting altogether by “making things happen for myself!” Extreme aggression is not the counter to waiting around. I guess somehow it just happens that you manage to find, on your own, the delicate need for balance in all aspects in life. There is the time for force, and there is a time for waiting. Eventually, I grasped the concept of patience. I can wait in the long grocery line to buy one loaf of bread without even a huff of impatience. But every now and then, I feel like my 4 year old self. Wanting to stomp my foot in protest when I’m waiting the week and a half for my new headshot prints to arrive. Or, most recently, waiting over a long holiday weekend to get the phone call that I booked the TV movie I so very hope to book.
Well, today I sat back a second and remembered my past self. And I refuse to sit around waiting for “my big break”. Life is happening whether we decide to join it in the ride, or wait for better options. And, um, pretty sure there aren’t any better options then life.