This post started while thinking about "who do I look to as role models", which is a whole other post.
I'm pretty much an exact 50/50 blend of my father and my mother, in every respect, including temperament. My father was patient, thoughtful and cautious. Too much so. My mother was fast, impetuous, nimble. Also too much.
All my life I've battled these two (oh and so many others!) dichotomies in my demeanor. "I have infinite patience" I've heard myself say over and over.
Except when I am driving.
Except when I am barreling down a hill on a snowboard.
Except when I am in line for the cashier.
Except when that girl winks at me.
Except when I know exactly what I want and how to get it.
Hrm.
It's a lie. I've been using patience as an excuse, a stopgap, time-maker while I figure it out, while I think about it too much and convince myself out of whatever it was and miss the chance.
"A man with too much patience is a man who is unsure of what he wants."
That's the nice, thoughtful way of saying "Patience is for the insecure."
No I'm not going to turn into a "brute of action". I of course still appreciate the value of thinking it over, sleeping on it... but within reason. And I am now secure enough in my own vision and wisdom to lower the threshold of what I need to feel certain, my Required Certainty Percentage, some. Maybe even drastically.
