Leave a comment and I'll gift you one of my novels or a subscription to my Wellness Ezine.

Leave a comment and I'll gift you one of my novels or a subscription to my Wellness Ezine.
Follow me by email, below right

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

How Impatient Can My Sixteen-Year-Old Self Get?

I remember waiting for my boyfriend to make the trek home from the state university and how I'd take a bath, do my nails and hair, pace the house, pull back the curtain and stare at the driveway, willing him to appear. And this was all before lunch. When he had 300 miles to travel.

Yes, I was born impatient, and through the years, I've struggled with trying to be more patient, more relaxed, more calm, more....why doesn't it happen!?!

So, what is it this time, oh teenager forever?

Well, it's those full manuscripts I've sent out.

Just how does it work? Does Agent X put my m.s. at the bottom of the pile to be read sometime in the next century, or does she start to read it, only to be interrupted by meetings with editors, phone calls, hungry kids and pets, all the while salivating to get back to my tome?

Probably neither, and why don't I just get back to business...to writing my next novel?

Because, maybe it was just an hallucination I had and no one requested my manuscript at all.

Boo hoo. It couldn't be that. Could it?

Who knows these days? Ever since I was out cutting branches off that snarky pepper tree that grows a foot a day (well, maybe only six inches) and stood back up after hauling a huge limb away, the branch reached out and bonked me. Okay, the branch didn't do that, I just wasn't watching what I was doing, and hit my head on the remaining tuber. (Or are tubers only underground?)

Anyway...bonk. I saw lights, I heard buzzing, and I had no idea what just happened. As my head cleared...sort of...I realized...another closed head injury. Those are the worst, because nobody can see it, but you sure can feel it. Intense pain and throbbing in the left side of my forehead, followed by the need to sit down on a stump before I fell down.

So, like I said, it could be due to my closed head injury. The second one. That I remember. The first came after I took up tap dancing and fell on a tile floor trying to do pullbacks, which I had no business doing at my level of tap. Not that my teacher was any help. She kept urging me to let go of the bar and try it.  The next thing I knew, I was lying on my back on the floor, looking up at the ceiling through the blood dripping down from above my eye. I had to have hit my face, but how did I get turned onto my back? Some kind of magic?
I never found out and only have the tiniest scar to remind me not to do pullbacks again.

Enough about closed head injuries.

The larger question is, when will I gain the patience I've been struggling to find lo these many years...