instant gratification...

... i abhor it, yet I realized I am one of those who live by it.

Today, as I was dressing up and putting on make-up before i set off for another round of xmas shopping, i remembered what my Dad always tells me:

"Find someone to love and settle down with so you can be happy."

And I always reply: "I don't need someone to complete me OR make me happy. I'm already complete *and* happy."

Well the being happy part is a relative term - it's impossible to be happy all the time. But I guess I meant that I'm content with how my life is going so far. I've made decisions to shape my life the way I want it to unfold, and I can't ask for anything more, seriously.

But the being complete part... that was what I mulled over as I applied eyeshadow and had a serious look at myself in the mirror. I mean, really, how many times does a girl, or anybody for that matter, look herself/themselves in the mirror and really, really, look at herself/themselves? So I mulled over the being complete part... and I realized that I am not complete.

I think that to be complete means nothing more can be added. Just like a painting. You dab here, you dab there. A splash of color here and there. Some strokes here, some over there. Then one day the artist would say: "It's done. It's complete." And then the painting is hung up on the wall to be admired. Imagine, if Da Vinci were alive today, and he took down The Mona Lisa, and added something new to the painting. I know that most paintings are being restored from time to time, but restoring it is simply enhancing the original painting - not adding to it.

So if I claim that I am complete... that means my life has ended at that moment. That the totality of who I am has already been seen and has unfolded. Nothing more will emerge. No new element or aspect or thing will result from me.

But that's not really true. Everyday, I learn something new about myself. Just two years ago, I couldn't have imagined I could be where I am today or that I can be who I am today. Just a month ago, I thought that I knew me, but recently, I'm having second thoughts. It's impossible for me to ascertain that I am complete, that I've culminated my existence.

So, I take it back. I am not complete. Yet. When then, would I know?

And that's when I realized, why do I need to know when? The answer to that is instant gratification. I need to know. I need to know now. I want to know *now*.

But the truth is it might take years, even decades, for me to know when. It might even be at my deathbed - I mean truly, only then can I say that, yes, my life had been most complete.

I then realized that everything in my life always comes with a speed tag. Deadlines. Certainty.

How many instances in my life had I consciously exerted patience on? To the best of my knowledge, only on two things. The first is where my work, and my career, is concerned. The second... well, the second is an ongoing thing, that is, if I haven't changed, or will not change, my mind about it.

Imagine that in all my 25 years, I've only been consciously patient about two things. Everything else came, or had to come, with dead certainty - when and where.

*huffs* To be perfectly honest, I'm not really a patient person. I hate waiting... for anyone OR anything. But... with this realization, I guess I'd be exerting more of that conscious patience as much as possible.