July 11, 2007 (second entry)

7/11/07
Train between
Salisbury and
London
5:30 PM

I took a walk in a suburb area of Salisbury near the train station just now, because after I got back from Stonehenge, I had a bit of time before the train left.

I was reflecting on my time here in Europe.  The suburb I was in looked at first like any suburb I could find in the States.  A few differences I'd already perceived came to mind.  Things are smaller--dandelions, daisies, bumblebees & flies & ants.  Nature just seems to me to be miniature here for some reason.  And things were a little more authentically decorated--ivy on the brick, deep flowering hedges, that sort of thing, not the tightly-clipped gardens or store-bought yards in the States.  I also recalled how people dress a little trendier in Europe.

A wider difference then occurred to me.  Things aren't as planned.  Suburbs happen as people built homes many, many ears ago.  Things are older, they grew slower, so they aren't so precisely planned.  Th awkward sprawling clone suburbs of California didn't happen here.  That brought Age to mind, of course--things are a tad older here, and it lends to the authenticity of the feel of the land.

I wonder if I'm "taking it all in."  I don't have anyone to share all of this with--I mean I can tell Gina, over the phone, but she isn't here and she definitely isn't at those places with me.

I've realized not very long ago how odd it is that we have a concept of "waiting."  I know in a sense the concept of waiting is real enough--we wait for dinner, for a train, for a stage of life, for the opportune moment.  But in a real sense I also don't think "waiting" exists.  There are no periods of ceasing to exist, there are only occasionally even lapses in consciousness.  We say waiting, but I wonder what that really amounts to, concerning our metaphysical state of being.

This is a big issue for me because one of the things I fear the most is waiting, particularly waiting in an unknown state.  I have a 12-hour layover between New York and Denver coming up, which is currently starting to loom over my head rather ominously.  Before leaving Valencia, I worried and fretted that I would have to just hang around and wait in an unknown city (that speaks a foreign language, no less) for a couple of days.  I guess in both of these is an element of the unknown, but I think that's more a part of waiting than anything else.

It's not that I'm antsy & can't imagine life sitting still.  So maybe the fear really does come from the unknown.  But the general foreboding & dislike still come from waiting.

I don't like the waiting stage of life, waiting for marriage or a salary I can trust or success in my career or a sustainable reputation or whatever.  And yet, for disliking it so much, I'm not entirely sure it's actually something that exists.