This is a blog about waiting, not waiting, and things I think about between or doing the things that occupy me.
The title is a take on “Waiting for Godot,” the absurdist play by Samuel Beckett, in which two men wait for someone named Godot to arrive. He never comes, but while they wait, they talk, eat, argue, play games and otherwise entertain themselves. The play’s been analyzed to be an examination of everything from religion to communism — I’ll make no such broad assertions.
But I will say this. There are some things about waiting that I know.
I don’t live in the moment as much as I would like to, and am often thinking of the next thing to come. I’ve thought sometimes I have been always waiting for life to begin. At age 38, I realize this is no way to live — I need to jump in.
There is the common affliction of waiting for time to do something. Ideas come and go and I think “one day I’ll write that down.” But as so often happens, amid the busyness of relationships, family, work and the rest of life, that time seldom comes.
I also often wait for opportunity. I’ve been fortunate that sometimes opportunity presents itself. But when it comes to writing, one mustn’t wait, one must do. Whether there are opportunities to “publish,” “be read,” “do something with it,” or not, one must write.
As it turns out, I conceived the idea for this blog shortly before I learned I was expecting a baby, so the “waiting for merlot” part ended up being real! (And since I’m nursing him, it might be quite awhile before I get to have wine again!).
Being a new mother compounds the above challenges. But it also makes my mind active, while I wait for my son to fall asleep or lie awake at night waiting for his cry. There are ever more things to contemplate and stew together in my head. I finally also have a reason to write that is outside me. My boy may never read these posts — or want to — but I want, for him, to be a person who does something. And so, I have launched this blog.