Missy:(speaks around thumb) I don’t wanna go to church.
Madigan: We have to. It’s a family obligation.
Missy: What’s a obagation?
Madigan: ObLIgation. It’s when Mommy should have shown up for your Auntie Barb’s Labour Day barbecue and didn’t, and now she feels bad. So we’re going to see her at church.
Missy:(looks out the window for a moment) Is that like when you feel bad for not shaving your legs when Uncle Ken comes for a sleepover?
Madigan:(laughs) Yeah, sort of. But Uncle Ken doesn’t sleep over. Uncle Ken is Auntie Barb’s husband.
Missy: But he goes in your room sometimes after I go to bed at night.
Madigan:(regards Missy for a moment) You know what? Why don’t we skip church and go to McDonald’s for breakfast instead.
There are times when motivation to see results is enough to get me to do the things I need to do, like dishes, or cooking for my kids so they don’t starve (okay, most of that is complaining, but whatever), or writing something so other people can read it. But other times, procrastination has a louder voice in my head. Facebook taunts me to see what the next thing on my newsfeed will be, and all the while procrastination is screaming, “Make me! Make me sweep the floor!” like an errant toddler.
Because really, procrastination is like a stubborn child. Think about it. It does what IT wants to do, not what’s gotta be done. It only cares about itself. It’s greedy and doesn’t like to share us with its grown-up counterpart, Responsibility.
It’s no wonder we need nice, shiny things to keep us motivated a lot of the time. In our everyday lives, when all is well and we’re stuck in our daily routines, something shiny is what we look forward to. To reach for. It’s no wonder I get more writing done during NaNoWriMo, what with that lovely graph to reach the top of. Something you might be able to relate to as a blogger, if you’re not an author, is the stats page. Who doesn’t want to get to the next level? Get more views than the year before? (Yes, I know some of you don’t pay attention to stats. Weirdos.) Goals. We all need goals. Otherwise, life is static.
So I’m off to do something I’m supposed to do. And not feed the screaming toddler. (Procrastination–I don’t mean my kids.)
Hey! How’s it going? It’s Friday today, and time now for your Stream of Consciousness Saturday prompt. If you read my post yesterday, you’ll know I’m dealing with wasps in my kitchen. Good news: I found out they’re coming in around my window air conditioner, which means they’re not in the house already. Bad news: I think they’re actually living IN the air conditioner. More news when I know whether or not I’ll need to throw away a perfectly good a/c unit. Anyhoo, here’s your prompt:
Your Friday prompt for Stream of Consciousness Saturday is “motive.” Use the word “motive,” in any form, in your post. Enjoy!
After you’ve written your Saturday post tomorrow, please link it here at this week’s prompt page and check to make sure it’s here in the comments so others can find it and see your awesome Stream of Consciousness post. Anyone can join in!
To make your post more visible, use our new SoCS badge! Just paste it in your Saturday post so people browsing the reader will immediately know your post is stream of consciousness and/or pin it as a widget to your site to show you’re a participant. Wear it with pride!!
1. Your post must be stream of consciousness writing, meaning no editing, (typos can be fixed) and minimal planning on what you’re going to write.
2. Your post can be as long or as short as you want it to be. One sentence – one thousand words. Fact, fiction, poetry – it doesn’t matter. Just let the words carry you along until you’re ready to stop.
3. There will be a prompt every week. I will post the prompt here on my blog on Friday, along with a reminder for you to join in. The prompt will be one random thing, but it will not be a subject. For instance, I will not say “Write about dogs”; the prompt will be more like, “Make your first sentence a question,” “Begin with the word ‘The’,” or simply a single word to get your started.
4. Ping back! It’s important, so that I and other people can come and read your post! For example, in your post you can write “This post is part of SoCS:” and then copy and paste the URL found in your address bar at the top of this post into yours. Your link will show up in my comments for everyone to see. The most recent pingbacks will be found at the top. NOTE: Pingbacks only work from WordPress sites. If you’re self-hosted or are participating from another host, such as Blogger, please leave a link to your post in the comments below.
5. Read at least one other person’s blog who has linked back their post. Even better, read everyone’s! If you’re the first person to link back, you can check back later, or go to the previous week, by following my category, “Stream of Consciousness Saturday,” which you’ll find right below the “Like” button on my post.
6. Copy and paste the rules (if you’d like to) in your post. The more people who join in, the more new bloggers you’ll meet and the bigger your community will get!
7. As a suggestion, tag your post “SoCS” and/or “#SoCS” for more exposure and more views.
Joel: So you know that Holly chick I’ve been talking about?
Pete: Oh, the married one?
Joel: Yeah.
Pete: You been seeing her a while. Couple of months – that’s gotta be a record for you.
Joel: Yeah, well she’s knocked up.
Pete: No shit! Is it yours?
Joel: I wish I knew for sure. Either way, I’m gone.
Pete frowns.
Joel: What? Her husband’s going to kill me if he figures it’s me, which he will if it’s mine because they’re both white and well, fuck, she’s just not fucking worth it. She’s going to be raising it alone one way or the other so what would you do?
I’ve had all kinds of bugs in my house: when I moved in we had pantry moths; it took two years to get rid of those. We’ve had flies, fruit flies … we even had a spate of lady bugs one year. Since spring this year, I’ve had an overabundance of snails slowly making their way around the front outside wall of my house. And now, this …
Two mornings ago I was in my kitchen, chatting with my son, when he pointed to the floor and said, is that a dead wasp? It was. They were. About two dozen of them, some still alive and walking around stupidly, but most were dead. They were all around my kitchen table, in the windows and on the table.
Yesterday morning I only found two, both dead.
This morning, I found out at least what was killing them. When I came downstairs to prepare Alex’s feeding pump at 5:30, I turned the light on. By the time I went back upstairs, there were a couple of wasps flying around the kitchen light over the table. I left it on, as I do, and went back upstairs only to realize I’d forgotten my phone. When I came back down, there were about half a dozen wasps, all flying around the unshaded incandescent bulb.
I deduced that the heat from the lightbulb is killing them. When I finally investigated, after Alex had gone to school–if I tell him about it, he’ll never sit at the table again–I found about a dozen, this time as many alive (but stupid) as dead. Problem is, I have no idea where they’re coming from.
So I’m guessing my best bet is to leave the light on, and hope they die when it gets cold outside. Because I ain’t hanging around in my kitchen to see where they’re crawling in while they’re alive and active.
Or maybe I’ll just go live outside with the snails.
Myrtle: I told him! I said to him, ‘If you don’t go and get that seen to, it’s going to get infected!’ But did he listen to me? And now look at him. All doubled over in pain, not able to get out of bed.
Edith: Well, all you can do is tell them. Paddy’s able to look after himself. He can’t have you waiting on him all the time.
Myrtle: I’ll be darned if he thinks I’m waiting on him! After he told me I worry too much and that I’ve become a fusspot. A fusspot! Do you believe he actually said that to my face?
Edith: Nerve.
Myrtle: He does have a lot of nerve. And now it serves him right. (pauses to glance out the window) I’ve loved that man most of my life and that’s the thanks I get.
Edith: He doesn’t deserve all you do for him, Myrtle. But what can you do?
Myrtle: You know, Edie, there was a time when I’d do anything for that man. Forty-five years we’ve been married, and we’ve seen it all. Well you know. How long were you married to Harvey, God rest his soul?
Edith: It would have been fifty-one years this week.
Edith squeezes the top of her cane, kneading it.
Myrtle: Now, Edie, I don’t want you to be thinking you’re doing something wrong. I don’t feel that way and my Paddy’s still alive! (looks up) Oh, this is our stop. Come on, Edie, the Chippendales await. Let’s go get ourselves a stiff one, shall we?
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