Waiting makes you old

by LogPoes

For some reason, I do some of my best thinking in the shower. Complete, coherent, structured stories and blogposts just materialise while I’m rinsing some fancy conditioner out of my hair. Unfortunately, I still haven’t found a way to record my thoughts while I’m actually IN the shower, so (not unlike those brilliant, world changing epiphanies that strike me 3 seconds before falling asleep that I’m never able to remember when I wake up) those wonderful, fully developed blogposts are more often than not three quarters forgotten by the time I’m wrapping a towel around my hair. What follows are the remains of one of those magical blogposts, because the subject matter is relevant to my life right now and I want to post it to either elaborate on or refer to at some later point. So, here we go:

I was in the shower, thinking about how destructive waiting is and how much waiting I’ve been doing recently. Being someone who is always trying to get to something or get to somewhere, you could say that I am always waiting for things to be finished (zines, essays, exams) and dates to arrive (graduations, shows from favorite bands, the new RuPaul episode), but that to me is different: they’re either happy things that I’m anticipating or there is clearly an active element of working towards things where I do have (some) influence on the process (write faster!).

The kind of waiting I’ve been, I’m tempted to say suffering from in the last few Idon’tevenknowhowlongs has been the draining kind of waiting. [While I’m thinking all this, a song by my favorite Belgian musician Daan pops up in my head in which he sings “I’m not waiting, waiting makes you old”. I haven’t thought of this song in at least 6 years. Welcome to my brain.]

Amongst other things, in the last 6 months I’ve been waiting for grades, for people to email me back, for paperwork, for permissions, for letters promised that never arrived, for information, for medical results, for me to stop feeling so miserable, for my studies to finally stop s*cking, for my new neighbour finally to buy some damn headphones (for the record: he did! It took him a year, but he did! Everybody rejoice!), for me to know where I’m at, for me to be able to make some decisions and for my life to finally start going forward again. Because all this waiting just makes my general existence feel very stagnant, like I’m on stand by. It’s getting pretty old. And so am I.