The Dream

I am sometimes plagued by the vague fear that next year, upon undertaking the writing life, I will look down at my typewriter and see all work and no play makes MC a dull girl written all across the page, and then Christian will have to come back from work and take the ax out of my hand.



(This is an actual photo of Roald Dahl's office.)


Luckily, I have concocted a better plan. OK, I could still maybe get into an MFA program, which would put this plan on hold a couple years, but that is boring logistical talk. As we say in the non-profit world, “let’s stay in vision space.”

The Dream: =

Me



+ A Trailer



+ A Great Paint Job



+ Some Radical Literature

+ Some Frizzle Costumes (soon to be debuted on The OverCher!)

All Equals

A Radical Bookmobile making daily stops at after-school programs around the city, driven by a Ms. Frizzle-esque educator who does dramatic readings and loans books.

More to come on The Dream.

Also appearing soon on the OverCher: Guest blogger Goomba.

Role Models

As I ponder the limitless opportunities of my future (upon those horizons I have broadened so studiously) I find myself turning to role models, towards women who live their lives as fast and furious as I want to live mine. I find myself turning to…



CHER.

I have learned so much about womanhood from this creature of the night. Was it not Moonstruck that taught me that the way to a man’s heart was a rare steak, spaghetti, and a little hair dye? That love is a terrible, inconvenient mess of passion akin to what happens when you leave the top off the blender? Was it not Mermaids that taught me the importance of fabulous Halloween costumes past the age of 25? That a woman’s car is the lifeblood of her freedom and independence?

And was it not Cher’s “Farewell” Tour that taught us all that when young upstarts think they can surpass your wit, beauty or costume-change frequency, you need only say to them, “Follow this, you bitches”?

I could wax on about this woman for ages but nothing could quite do justice to the woman who taught me the art of being a woman yet also being a drag queen.

And the other roles models...



MISS FRIZZLE.

My God. The woman of the hour. If I can be half the teacher she is…I will have figured out how to shrink myself to size of a red blood cell. I can hope only to recreate some semblance of her dresses in my bomb-ass fourth-grade classroom of the future.



RONIA THE ROBBER’S DAUGHTER

The girl who teaches me again and again the importance of courage when stuck in a gray elves’ den in the midst of snowy winter in Sweden. Ronia, you were totally robbed (HA!) when it comes to Astrid-Lindgren-character fame. Pippi has nothing on you. And I say this as a girl who spent hours, nay, days of childhood attempting to weave a coat hanger into my hair to make my braids stick straight out.




OPRAH

I can’t help it. I really love Oprah. I really go to www.oprah.com on a regular basis. I wish I could lie to you about this but it’s not in me. EVERYBODY GETS A CAR!



JANIS JOPLIN

Oh Jan-Jan. You may have been a blithering drug addict but you’re still my girl. I will not question the cosmic forces that tied us together across the space-time continuum, I just know that when we meet in the Great Beyond we will have so very much to talk about. The first being THESE PANTS:



And the second being a round of “Mercedes Benz,” obvi. Get it, girl.

Being a Narwhal: Harder than it Looks

Challenges Faced by the Narwhal Community, besides the Obvious:

1. Misrepresentation by Nature Shows as animals interested in "jousting by twilight."

2. Horns Cut off to Prove the Existence of Unicorns, as the existence of HORNED SEALS meant nothing to these people.

3. Their names mean "Whale Corpse" in Norse. Just rude.

4. Their horn, or "Nar," is for attracting female narwhals. The phallic desperation here does not need to be commented upon. No, but actually the important lesson here is that the Nar is actually THEIR TOOTH.




My God. May your dreams not be haunted by visions of a spiraling nar-tooth.