lasciate ogne speranza voi ch’intrate.*

by dorarandom

the master procrastinator at work.

( a rare glimpse of the master procrastinator at work.)

i am the true burn-out. the burn-out par excellence, if you will. and i am always astonished by this— though it has been a couple of years. (i guess i keep thinking, ‘well it must have worn off by now!’…..yeah, and then i try to write a two-part blog entry, and once again i find myself performing strange procrastinatory rites at 2 a.m.)

Esoteric Procrastination. i am an adept. fully initiated in those mysteries. i feel like ‘Esoteric Procrastination’ would make a nice title for a post, and i would love to tell you about some of my incredible feats, but i’m afraid this will never be written. it will, of course, be procrastinated. i just can’t take the pressure, man.

very comically, obviously, this year i was thinking i might actually do National Novel Writing Month! though i would just use the guidelines and not get involved with the Community—and i would start on November 15 instead of November 1—it would be my own pleasant little discipline and i would be accountable to no one but myself—but yeah of course i burned out immediately anyway. i did get some good vaginismic research done, and i did make a really long list of lawyers and other legally-occupationed characters in dickens. for what that’s worth. but i did not write the first word of a novel and i am still dealing with the aftermath of intent.

on sunday the 16th—(Table Day)—my mother happened to say a non-word that sounded like ‘romansch’ on her way to recollecting the real-word ‘romani’—and happened to laugh at this—and suddenly i was giving an oration about how fascinated i was with romansch as a third-grader during our switzerland unit in social studies; how i had really always been fascinated with romansch; and now here are some fascinating facts about the language itself i know everyone wants to hear them.

seriously i could not stop talking about romansch. something came over me. like i was possessed by—i have no idea what—the ghost of someone who was passionate about romansch, i guess.

that was kind of weird, but i thought: hey, maybe i should learn romansch instead of writing a novel! or some other obscure romance language. that would be way more relaxing. and then: hey, i wonder if i have any romansch ancestors! inevitably: a trial membership on

the dust settles. but wow. i just took a cautious peep at ancestry. genealogy, thank God, actually does look pretty damn relaxing.


* OR, this is how i roll.