who writes this crap? episode two

This is a short one, written while my car was being repaired. I was going to write more, but then they finished. So I'll bump that material into another "episode" when I get to it.

Boooooored. Bored bored bored. Bored.

In the pitch black of the testing room, the holoscreen before Mouse bathed her cheeks in a soft blue glow. She sighed, chin nested in an open palm. Her free hand jabbed at the projection before her, answering the same questions worded differently over and over.

Whyyyyyyy?

She and Mutt were supposed to be out shooting the bad guys today, goddamnit. But instead of savoring the gratuitous violence of another thwarted assault, they were both stuck here. It’d been a whole twenty three minutes, and she still couldn’t believe it. They had actually pulled the both of them out of line-up for this. It was just a stupid test! A stupid, redundant test that they probably required specifically to justify the money they spent on these screens. Just, really. They rippled whenever she selected an answer.

who writes this crap? episode one, fo' rizzles

Yeah, that's actually what I'm calling it. Why not?
And yes, I realize that the beginning of this is something of an info-dump, and that info-dump = bad writing. This setting is my vacation from good writing. I apologize, faithful imaginary friends.

Episode One

                “Uullgghh.” The young woman scowled at the holographic bathroom mirror, jabbing at the touch-panel controls to survey her short but mangled hair. The reflection twisted in jerky circles, sculpting to perfection every globby, matted strand.  She picked at a particularly rowdy cowlick, only to find her fingers sticking together.

She groaned. “Whhyyyy??” Pulling at a wad of short, dirt-brown hair and twisting it, she inspected the blood-red tips she’d dyed in the week before. She paused, then squinted as she leaned in closer to the hologram, as if proximity would help determine what was damage and what was motor oil. Giving up, she huffed loudly as she thumped toward the bathroom door, its frame alight with a faint red glow.

who writes this crap? episode o--you know nevermind, this is just a news post

Forward:

Just graduated from college this last weekend. Hoping that helps solve the "no time to write" issue that's been behind the "not posting any writing" problem this "blog" has "suffered" "lately".

Anyway, this is just some... stuff. It takes place in the same fictional universe as the Induction story that I'm "working" on--really just thinking about a lot and feeling productive through no real effort. It's episodic in nature without much in the way of any single narrative linking it together. Events are more or less sequential but without vast prior knowledge required to get the gist of going on.

In other words, it's a skeezy TV show, but you have to work your brain to enjoy it. Terrible idea, right? Probably! But I've been poking at it anyway, because the lack of commitment to a central plot structure means I can write -something- despite my recent mental block against committing to anything truly productive.

Like, say, Anika. You remember Anika, right Secret Anonymous Readers I Imagine Greedily Consuming My Work? It's the book I keep telling myself I'm writing. With seven completed chapters so far, that could actually be a true statement if I get off my proverbial ass (note: onto literal ass, sans usual distractions) and remind myself that "writing" is a present participle and that coupled with a present-tense verb, such as "am" in "I am writing", implies that I am actively performing a task.

Uhh... right.

Anyway.

Here you go. Random crap. And... oh! Right. Uh, another detour. Mind I sincerely doubt that I'm going to get any feedback in reply to this question (a statement I made just now to make myself seem sad and vulnerable and guilt you, Secret Anonymous Readers I Imagine Greedily Consuming My Work, into giving feedback), but here goes. I do occasionally write adult work. Occasionally may or may not be an understatement, but that's difficult to quantify given how my interests are shifting now that I'm becoming a "grown-up", or at the very least now that my hormones are allowing me to eat melons (as in the fruit) without giggling or making unfunny "jokes".

I'm considering posting some of it, here and there. The concern is that this will suddenly be one of them thar 'pornomographical blogulatures', and the legitimacy of all my blood (figurative), sweat (literal--I live in Florida), and tears (literal--I am an artiste) sacrificed (figurative[?!]) in writing Anika and similar work will be rendered null and void by the occasional cropping-up of such words as "stiff" and "gasp".

Naturally such posts would come well-equipped with big scary warnings about the mental health of children and G-d-fearing Christians.

Thoughts? All feedback to the dilemma is welcome, because I... you know what? This is a news post now. Hold on. I'm going to edit the title. There. I'll post the story after, in another post.

That was redundant. Now I'm thinking of Post cereal. Lost my train of thought.