Everyone Else Is Doing It

Ladies and Gentlemen! Below you'll find the pile of poo I wrote at the writing marathon. I am posting her for your perusal because, well, because everyone else who was in my group is doing it, and I don't want to be left out. You all know what a conformist I am. (I don't know if I'll ever finish it, but hey! Starting it is half the battle.)

Massages By Appointment

She was not an attractive woman. Her hair sat fastened in a tight bun at the back of her head, pulling the skin around her temples and forehead tight, giving her the look of an old oriental in a state of shocked disapproval.

She said her name was Lynette, but the cracked, red patches on her hands belonged more to an Olga, or perhaps even a Lupe. I didn't want her to touch me with those hands, those lying hands that looked like they had never touched or caressed, but only scrubbed and kneaded.

Her clothes hung from her like loose leafs of elephant skin. To say she was a scarecrow would be too generous. There was only bone and skin. Skin that sagged and wobbled and dangled, its translucence alive, yet stagnant, faded from what may once have been the delicate, creamy color of slowly churned buttermilk.

Not Your Every Day Superheroes

Okay, so I threatened to do this, and by gosh darned if it didn't go and do it. In honor of Halloween, I've created some superheroes in the Mystery Men style. Feel free to create your own, or improve upon mine.

Bunny Man? When danger lurks, he runs and hides.

Tortilla Girl? She throws stale tortillas like Frisbees to disarm her opponents.

Eco-Man? He only uses environmentally friendly weapons--bio-degradable paper costume and all.

Literature Guy? He spouts Milton, Keats, and Plato at his enemies until they lose consciousness from either confusion or boredom.

Dictionary Man? He throws heavy reference tools at his enemies. (They come back to him like boomerangs.)

Opera Woman? She can render anyone unconscious with a high C.

Leather Man? Well, no one knows what he can do, and they don't really want to ask.

Lazy Boy? He defeats his foes by rendering them unconscious with his super sonic belches, all from the comfort of his recliner.

Dancing Queen? She...uh...he...I mean...she dances circles around her enemy creating the Vortex of Death. After which he, excuse me, she redecorates the room to match the villain's bruises.

Bitter Woman? She uses biting sarcasm to wound her opponents before taking them down with her feminist diatribes.

Mama's Boy? He stands around while his mother beats the crap out of his enemies with her trusty rolling pin (this is actually a super duo.)

Frances the Yodeling Wonderkind? I think it's pretty obvious what Frances' super power is. Yes, he throws Yodels at his enemies until they are too sticky to move.

Yodelayheehoo? Because her brother Frances stole her most effective power, she relies on the family tradition of yodelling to explode the heads of her enemies.

Woody Allen? He stutters. (Actually, he's not very well liked by the rest of the super heroes because of his lack of self esteem and his constant need to talk without ever coming to the point.)

Hi. My Name is Mishell, and I'm a Procrastinator

You know that Peanuts comic strip gag where Lucy is trying to get Charlie Brown to kick the football? She always promises not to pull the ball away, and Charlie Brown always runs full tilt at it and kicks himself into summersaults. Well, I'm Charlie Brown. I run full tilt at everything. That wouldn't be so bad, except that I'm Lucy, too. I keep pulling that football out of my own path so that I end up on my ass complaining that I always fall for my tricks. Aaargh!

Anyway, I'm working on my thesis (as most of you know by now, and if you don't, then you haven't been paying attention to me, because I talk about it constantly in one form or another). Well, I guess I should say that I'm trying to work on my thesis. I've got 14 pages of a 60 page (or so) rough draft, but I keep finding excuses to not get any farther. I've got outlines and notes jotted all over the place, but I find that rooting my butt to the chair in front of my computer gets harder and harder (unless I'm going to catch up on my Freecell, that is.) I'm meeting with my advisor today, and I have no new pages to give her. I've got lots of ideas, but no clue how to put them on paper. It all sounds so stupid when I do, like I'm the pretend graduate student. This makes me want to work even less. (See that football being moved?)

Furthermore, rather than using that valuable procrastination time to work on the short story I started last year, I've let the story rot in revision hell. This is a story that means a lot to me, and I think it has the potential to be really good, so why can't I bring myself to get back to it? I haven't even looked at it in at least 2 months. It whispers to me every day, but I ignore it, saying that I shouldn't be speaking to it since I'm supposed to be concentrating on my thesis. "I can't divide my creativity, right now." What the hell is that? What does that mean? I don't know, but I think I see Lucy holding the ball on this one, too.

I tell myself that this procrastination is caused by the fact that I don't have a job, and I'm constantly worrying about getting one and how I'll pay the rent if I don't. I keep trying to get on at the university. In fact, I have a resume in there right now. I put off applying for other jobs because this is the one I really, really, really want, but on Sunday I decided that I couldn't wait anymore. I'm out of money, and unless I want to become the Bag Lady of Belmont, I need to work. Well, Wednesday I got hired for a job I'm not sure I want to do. I know I'll do it, but I wonder if it's going to help my procrastination or just give me another excuse not to do the two things I love most.