Foray into Forebearance

So I've noticed there's a capitulation of self that generally manifests in spontaneous shortcomings or momentary disappointment; a missing piece whose absence seems completely necessary as long as we exist and detect the world around us within the context of time, which we obviously are doomed to do.
I've begun to supplant this necessity with a general sense of acceptance toward time and the grooves between, wherein I find myself detecting my own conciousness; where I seem to fit most easily. So, like, I'm living in the moment but the moment seems to coincide with my noticing its passing -- which is counterintuitive. I'm working on it. This just became a journal.

Patience is like an animal instinct that may once have been honed by the evolution of survival, but it isn't really necessary to partake in anymore. In fact, the general rule is: the less patient you are and the more loudly you make it known, the faster you get what you want. So why aren't monks and drive-thru's something we associate. Are monks even doing anything right? What's spirituality? Are my fries ready yet? Do I sound anti-establishment enough? Have you labeled me?

What's your label?

Why aren't you more patient?

I can wait. I've been practicing.