Habitually Waiting

I was raised to be never late. Hardcore in the sense that my lateness if any, is on time and my on-time-ness is 15 minutes early.

Habitually I've become accustomed to waiting for people, for things to happen while holding as minimal of a grudge as possible.

Habitually I'd pick up a pencil and sketch and let the lines fly at their own accord.

Untitled, 2010
ink pen, pencil, industrial marker

Habitually I'd put on my iphone and surrender to the music of the moment.
Takenobu, 2 Steps from Hell, Bjork, Metallica, just to name a very very few.

From time to time I'd lift up my head to see if the waited has arrived, only to find disappointment and frustration.
Then I'd mess up a line but I'd leave it alone given that I didn't exactly have an erase at hand.


Untitled, 2010
pencil

Habitually, I'd alter the sketches to fit the lines that are mis-aligned for my own amusement and occupation. Sometimes, problem solving requires more creativity than simply following what is planned. 

A Page from my Sketch Book, 2010
Pencil
Habitually I'd create a world of nonsensical objects mixed and meshed to hold my attention long enough before others would find me. 

Waiting.

Pondering.

On whether the arrival of the overdue, the appearance of the waited is worth the happiness I would find in my own sketch book. 

Habitually, I find myself more drawn to the process of waiting and expectation than the actual conclusion of such happenstance. 

Therefore, I'd come early and wait habitually,

So that I can experience the happening over and over again. 

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