ON WAITING

I am an over-communicator. I know this. I send messages that don't need to be sent, and a high percentage of my phone conversations end with the other person tersely saying "I'm going to have to let you go now." I send a long email to 54 other people every week and get about ten responses on average. From the same ten people, I might passive-aggressively add.

But it's not that is sticking in my craw today. It's not even my BBQ Bacon Cheeseburger for lunch (diet? what diet?). It's the waiting on responses to three (3) separate, distinct, and discrete efforts at communication...

1) The Family Friend Through Facebook: After my epiphinical (it's a word! probably!) discovery of the girl who broke my heart a few days ago, I realized I should try to make contact with people who actually liked me at one point. So I sent a message to a girl I'm 98% sure I grew up with - the main issue being that she is five years younger than me, so may not remember me with any useful context. However, I'm interested to learn how she and her family are doing, so I am anxiously checking my facebook inbox far more often than necessary.

2) Chuck's email: My "wise" friend Chuck - mentioned several other times throughout this blog, including a link on the right. Our emails are always ridiculously long and entertaining. Didn't someone publish a book of letters between Van Gogh and one of his relatives? I feel like given enough time, Chuck and I would out-Van Gogh Van Gogh, minus the ear thing. Or the painting. But I look forward to getting the email so I can start crafting a brilliant, witty response. But I know this isn't something that can be rushed - "Hey, Vincent, finish that one about the Starry Night!" and all that, so I'll continue checking my email far more often than necessary.

3) The (former) friend through the mail: A girl I worked with a few years back...and yes, she is beautiful...she and I were friends, then she dated a friend, then she moved, then I moved, then we kind of...fell out of touch. Like people do. I sent her a letter in the spring of 2006, got a phone call back (she left a voicemail), called back, no response. No response to a few attempts via email. So I sent another letter in early October of this year. Thus far, I have yet to hear anything. I get kind of sad thinking about it, but understand that people change. At this point, I'm more concerned that she's okay than anything. Is she not writing me back because she fell down the stairs and broke her writing hand? Is she not writing me back because she is married and her husband doesn't encourage friendships with other dudes? Is it because her husband is so against friendships with other dudes that HE broke her hand? Goodness Gracias! She needs my help!

There you have it. Three separate things I keep waiting on (and the purpose of this post isn't passive-aggression, I promise). I have never been a good "waiter" for things like this. If someone says they'll call me and they don't, I take it very personally. Heck, if someone says they'll call me at 9 and then they text at 11:30, I assume the worst. It's just how I am. I have a big brain. I overthink things.

I guess it comes down to one of the two reasons I love Tom Petty. As he said: "The waiting is the hardest part."

The other reason I love Tom Petty? In "Last Dance with Mary Jane," he mentions Indiana! I'm a sucker for things like that in songs. Because I am from The Region, I also love mentions of Chicago - Alkaline Trio's "San Francisco" mentions Chicago directly, Smashing Pumpkins "Tonight, Tonight" mentions "the city by the lake" (which obviously means Chicago) - even Snow Patrol's "Hands Open" mentions Surfjan Stevens's song "Chicago," which is close enough.

Wait, where was I? Oh yeah. Emails. Letters. Stuff like that. Waiting isn't fun.