I am very good at asking questions. I ask a lot of questions, a lot of what ifs.
I am not quite as good at waiting for the answer. I don't mean that I'm not interested in hearing the answer and jump straight into the next question as if I hadn't asked the first one. What I mean is that I'm not very good with that period of time between asking the question and getting the answer.
That lag time is the emotional equivalent to radio's dead air.
I don't know where my impatience stems: if I think that the silence means that it won't ever be answered (and what is the worst that comes from that?), or if we're just accustomed to a "now" culture, or if I'm imbuing meaning from the fact that I have been given an answer.
Let's just say that Eat, Pray, Love has been raising many internal questions about why I do what I do and why I worry where I worry. And I've been closely considering the time between the question asked and the question answered.
What do you do in that space? Forget you even asked the question? Wait impatiently for the answer?
Gaaaaaaaaaaaaah! Tell me now!
Any while you think I'm being facetious, it's really just feigned facetiousness so I don't appear to be a complete freak. But I truly am wondering if I am the only person who has trouble waiting for answers. I am the type who prompts the person to keep talking when their voice trails off as they're thinking.
On a completely unrelated side note, we were watching Food Network last night and Duff was on an episode of another show. He told the host that he had been a chef for over 20 years and Josh looked at me dryly and said, "did you know that? That in the free moments when you weren't making out with him during that middle school trip that he was cooking? Damn you frittered that."
And this is biting me in the ass ten-fold this week because I'm making a cake for a shower and using fondant. And, as I've said before, I skipped the fondant classes when I was study cake decorating because of the girl who would yammer on and on about her fan-fucking-tastic pregnancy (why bother showing up to class when I'm going to spend the bulk of it in the bathroom crying?). I could use some advice. Some colouring fondant advice. And, as Josh says, I frittered that away. In more ways than one.