Procrastination

I was supposed to be working on this blog this weekend, a new layout, just generally tidying it up. Instead I cleaned and organized the basement, a couple of closets and washed all the clothes. For I, dear ducks, am a Master Procrastinator!

I think it’s a real ‘thing’. A degree of sorts. I’ll tell you how to attain my level of masterhood. Do you have a term paper due, perhaps no less than 10,000 words, that requires much reasearch on a topic you know nothing about? Let’s make it complete with a bibliography and footnotes. Hey, SUNSHINE! Leave that damn thing until 8:00  p.m. the NIGHT BEFORE!!! Yeah. Do that.

Painting the bedroom? Well, you just leave that one wall taped off. You’ll get to it a week before you sell the house. Do not clean your freezer out, don’t even think about it unless and until there is so much frost surrounding your bag of peas that you cannot close the door. Hey! You’re almost there!!!

Okay. To attain Master level, find out that there is a blog conference in your town that you want to go to. To learn and mingle. Let’s call it BlogWest. http://blogwest.ca.

Be so excited that you could almost piddle like your girldog. Then realize that everything you do is crap, that you need to do ‘stuff’ before you are comfortable meeting your peers, call your friend, who is also your designer, and have her become your touchstone because she knows you are fucking freaking out. Let her put you on-task to the point she makes you write shit-to-do down (Leanne, write this down. Are you writing this down? Write this down.”) Tell her you are, but secretly be filing your nails. Tell her you love her, because you do. Immediately forget what the fuck she just said the second you are off the phone.

Now go clean your basement. And while you are cleaning, realize that every single thing you have ever thought of writing has left your head. Have an anxiety attack. Perhaps have a drink or two. Maybe promise to mail some good strong Canadian beer to your American blog friend because, really, why the hell not? Maybe say something stupid on twitter. Like  ‘Yep. Serial killer describes me perfectly’ or something equally stupid. Have it taken out of context. But favorited by a few folks. (Cool.)

With the clock ticking, decide that you’ve had enough of your own bullshit. Get your ducks in order and get on with it! Do whatever it is you have to do as well as you can. (Wish that you had started sooner.) 

There. You have now become a Master. I once had someone tell me procrastinators work better under pressure because they have to! Truer words were never spoken.

Now, about this old blog. There is now a twitter button here so go ahead. Follow me. It’s not scary! And a Facebook like page that I just started up, where I will put stuff from here, funny things, serious things, whatever. So we can interact a bit. Because YAY! I’m fun and you probably are too!

Also, Mama Duck is going to be doing some writing prompts and competitions right away. So I’ll let you know what and when they are right here, but I’m giving you ample warning so you don’t read something about my brother becoming a mass dog murder and flip your shit because you think I’ve finally lost it. It will be FICTION. So just calm down.

I think that’s it. And for the record, I started this post, then got hungry, watched ‘The Walking Dead’, twittered, read other blogs and finally decided to finish it.

Master. I am.