Time Flies

I have absolutely no clue who penned "time flies when you're having fun," but I've found to be half of the truth.  Time passes when you're not having fun, as well.  This past Saturday, the senate voted to repeal the Army's seventeen year policy, Don't Ask, Don't Tell.  The actual policy is still in place, but President Obama is expected to sign on this Tuesday.  After that, there is a 60-day Congressional review time, before the law is no longer effective.

These next two months will probably feel impossibly slow, but like all things waited upon, it will probably seem like the blink of an eye.  It feels like the eternal wait for the minute hand to finally reach the clock-out time at some terrible, mundane factory job.  I add that, as I've worked in a factory once.  It felt like voluntarily coming to the seventh circle of Dante's Inferno on a daily basis.

Anticipation.  I am probably one of the most impatient people I know.  I can't really hunt or fish (mostly because of the killing animals part) but it requires long hours of waiting.  Meditation is semi-calming, but I can't do it very long.  An hour is about all I can handle before I either fall asleep or think about too many other things.

I've waited for my fingernail polish to dry, only to realize I hate the color, as well as the shape of my fingernails, so with gobs of cotton balls and acetone, I erase my mistake, and start over again.  It reminds me of the writing process. The thoughts that whirr around in my mind seem to flow together in a conscious, coherent, and relevant way, until I pour them into text.  It is only after reviewing them, I usually wipe it all away with "CTRL + A" and the backspace key.  I don't like using the delete button. To me, "delete" seems like I've made a terrible decision and must fix it.  Backspace, however, is like a golf mulligan.  I get a "do-over."  As I am not a complete idiot, I am aware they both perform the same function, but to me there is a matter of aesthetics that I just do not get with "delete."

Speaking of writing, I am finally continuing my story.  I am still not convinced that my story would be entertaining, translatable, or even possible, but I'm doing it anyhow.  My "Intro to Women's Studies" professor told me she can't wait to read it.  It was somewhat endearing.  I've looked at some of my grades from this semester.  I was pretty appalled.  I've received grades far higher than I know I deserved in several classes, and two that could have been substantially higher than they were.  I am appreciative, but feel that the impending semester will be another feat of academic endurance.  This one should have been one also, but I kept waxing and waning between overdrive and idling.  I really AM terrible with balance.  At least I know of one class that I will enjoy pushing myself for.

On that note, I'll address the rest in my next post.

Shayna

PS I've added "meet Janeane Garofalo" to my bucket list.