the waiting game

I hate waiting. It's just something I'm not particularly good at.

And I discovered more of that fatal flaw today, waiting for the bus on the way to uni.I get a bit restless, sitting there on the wooden benches, with nothing to do. I have a thing against staring into the distance, thinking that the more intently one stares, the faster the bus will come. So I usually read to kill the time.
Now reading is hardly classified as risk-taking behaviour, but when one is waiting for a bus and has her head buried in a book when the bus turns the corner, one does risk missing the bus. Or... the bus missing her.
And that was the complexity I pondered on this morning, while contently travelling down the M2, 4 hours early for uni (because I'm really about 17hours behind on readings)...

But you all know what I mean, don't you? That feeling of anticipation... while you wait for something. I hate that feeling... that I'm going to miss it... or (really) that it* (*cough*) is going to miss me... A friend told me over the weekend that I take too much on. And I often battle with the fear that I'm spreading myself out too thinly... But it's not because I want to prove myself (although I'm sure at one point in my life, it was) - it's simply because I don't know where I'm going or what I'm doing. So it's like I'm waiting at the bus-stop, and I've pulled out a gazillion things to read/do, really because I'm just killing time, waiting for "MY PURPOSE" to turn the corner and hit me in the face. =)