So I’m sitting here, totally blocked in my ability to create anything, writing or otherwise. I’ve been procrastinating by doing laundry, rotating my fall and summer clothes, and throwing away all the stray, snotty Kleenexes I left laying around the house in my sickly state of late. While I’m somewhat relieved to accomplish some of the things I normally procrastinate on, the restless right side of my brain just can’t seem to get going.
I attribute the blockage to my recent communications Sweet Melissa. How I despise her for having so much power over me, or at least the right side of my brain. Come to find out, Sweet Melissa is a vindictive, bitter old woman who wants nothing more than the adrenaline rush of power. All that sugar smack she spreads around is but a ruse, a pied piper-like attempt to get people to follow her and behave according to her teachings. Peace and love are the teachings. Power and annihilation are the aspirations.
She has been fighting Mustang Sally’s battle with me for a few months now. I was fool enough to fall into her trap. I argued right back with her even though the situation had nothing to do with her. God, am I stupid. Well, Sweet Melissa has now shunned me, and is probably on the path of getting other people to shun me.
It’s a very odd feeling to have someone I don’t even like shunning me. Is it humility? Has she succeeded at putting me, Ms. I-Know-What’s-Best-For-Everyone-If-They-Would-Only-Listen-To-Me, in my place? Nah. She’s playing my game. She thinks she knows what’s best for everyone too. Problem is, she preys on the psychologically defunct and can easily get them to follow her lead. With someone as strong and mighty as I am, she can merely shun. A feeble attempt at saving herself from the wrath of me. Who can blame her?
Being shunned isn’t so bad. I’m free of the hypocrisy. Even though I’ll be watching Sweet Melissa and her toady Mustang Sally from a distance, I’m free from their evil plot to get wandering souls to worship them as goddesses of knowledge and love. With me out of the way, Sweet Melissa can retract the claws from her fluffy kitty paws and go back to being the back-stabbing church lady she was born to be.
Ah, there. I feel much better now. Screw the housework. I’m off to the page!
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4 comments:
How true. The owls are rarely what they seem in the dream world of Twin Peaks. And that's where you are with Mustang Sally and Sweet Melissa - a place where Lara Flynn-Boyle weighed more than eight pounds and psychological freaks roam freely. You gotta love that cherry pie, though! I can completely relate to your frustration. Hang in there. Perhaps one day we'll find some worthy adversaries who are just too mature to pout.
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