Anticipation

(photo grabbed from treklens.com)

I once read that Carly Simon wrote and sang the song Anticipation while waiting for a date with Cats Stevens. Not knowing what’s really in store for her with that particular date with the legendary singer, anticipation she said, is making her late, and keeping her waiting. Hmmm.

This got into my mind while waiting for my pail to be filled up with water before bathing. At my age today, I could say I have practically spent half of my life waiting. As a student, everyday I waited for my school bus to arrive, waited for the classrooms to open, waited for my classmates and teachers to come, waited for recess and lunch time, waited for my ride back home and perhaps everything else that caught up with waiting. Thanks to my more than punctual father who have instilled on us his children, the importance of being on time, better yet ahead of time. In fact, I have already gotten used to setting my watch 15 minutes ahead – which usually startles people who ask for the time! My friends at school used to ask me “why do you come to school so early, don’t you ever get bored waiting for the others?”. I remember saying “I get bored more waiting for time at home, and no, I don’t mind waiting at all.” I don’t know why. All I know then is that I would rather be the one waiting than be the one being waited on. And so while waiting for whatever or whoever, I used to kill time by sightseeing (Sigh, I wasn’t much of a studious student.) – counting nice looking cars that pass by in particular. Back in the 80s, the sight of airconditioned Toyota Coronas and Corollas was such a joy it made me forget our beaten yellow VW Brasilia. When I got into college, Mitsubishi Pajeros and Nissan Patrols were the rage among the more affluent and I thanked them profusely for giving me reasons to enjoy some wasted time. Lately? Yes I’m still into counting Isuzu Alterras and Ford Everests.

It was only some years after school when I started savoring the peculiar sweetness of tardiness. Having been influenced by some tardy friends, perhaps it was also only then did I finally dare to try showing up late at work or at invitations, for the mere sake of experiencing firsthand the thought of being waited on. To my dismay, despite already being a few minutes late on the usual agreed time, I still come way ahead than everybody! And so I realized that waiting still made me more comfortable rather than the other way around.

My job at this USAID-funded project is about to end. Issues concerning my tenure also need to be rectified. And as a member of the conventional working class, I am now into scouting new prospects of income generating activities. I have already sent out feelers to some agency partners though unfortunately, I have not heard anything from them yet, which takes me back to the waiting game again. I may or may not be able to claim my separation pay; I may or may not find a new job sooner. But as Carly Simon sings, “I'm no prophet and I don't know nature's ways; So I'll try and see into your eyes right now; And stay right here 'cause these are the good old days”.

I’m going to be fine. After all, good things happen to those who wait, doesn’t it?