Tuesday, December 28, 2010

Extreme Makeover: Blog Edition

When I was seven I was going to be a ballerina when I grew up.  Or a nurse.  Or Luke Skywalker.  (Actually I really wanted to be Leia Organa but then she totally let me down when she kissed Solo which was gross!  And totally uncalled for.)

Circle, circle, dot, dot, now you need the cootie shot!

And so, much to the conspicuous envy of my neighborhood playmates (I'm talking to you, Amy Bircher)  I alone got to be the Pirouetting Jedi Trauma Nurse Assassin when it came time for make believe.  This early propensity to polymorphism probably explains my fascination, nay, obsession with Transformers even though they were for boys.  Because honestly, Barbies were soo static and boring.  And also lacking in light and sound and working joints.  But Transformers, well, they could be this:


♫ More than meets the eye ♪

So when I got a little older I set out for degrees in Geology as well as English Literature.  But that was only after I joined the Army.  But eventually I did drop the Geology bit when I decided to go to law school.  Or graduate school, to be an English Professor.  Or a writer.  And then promptly decided to drop everything, get pregnant, and become an Environmentally Conscious Stay-At-Home-Mom With An Overdeveloped Sense Of Justice And Excellent Taste In Literature.  Who in her younger years looked a lot like this chick:

(I actually got this Barbie as a gift when I graduated Basic Training.)

So when I started this blog I was having one of my angsty/poetic episodes that typically lasts me anywhere from three minutes to three years and frequently provokes me to open a volume of Norton' English Literature,

(HAHA You totally thought I was going to say a bottle of Shiraz.  SUCKER!!!!!)

wax melancholic, and revel in the company of dead sad chicks like Sylvia Plath and Hamlet's Ophelia (you know, Hamlet's bipolar girlfriend who falls/jumps from a tree branch and, due to the voluminousness of her inordinately poofy gown, drowns) while re-imagining for them wildly different outcomes.  My Ophelia would float, breathe, put on a DVF shirtdress, and use the Force to kick Claudius' ass while tending to Laertes' and Gertrude's medical emergencies.  En pointe.

A year and a half into this endeavor, though, methinks this blog channels Ophelia far less than (one of my) alter-ego(s), Alice, of Wonderland fame.  Curious, absurd, illogical Alice who imagines six impossible things before breakfast, who is too large for her house and too small for her Queen.

Waverly, 2009

Me, most days

So I'm renaming the blog for a not-so-sad, not-so-dead chick who'd probably not back the family station wagon into a lake, but most certainly would have a corkscrew in her apron for opening the bottle that says "Drink Me."

Anyway,why exactly is a raven like a writing desk?

Curiouser and curiouser....



  1. Hi. I follow you. Follow me! malaysianturkeyshoot.blogspot.com

    BTW, I left her and branched out to......Malaysia. Yeah. It goes like that.

    Plus, I really liked Transformers too. And you're my favorite Alice...

  2. Just realized you aren't on FB anymore. I hadn't seen a post so I tried to look you up. Hope you are well. Blog on!

  3. I discovered your blog because Michael Ian Black is a jackass! He's now unfollowed, and you're followed! (You're wittier in 140 characters or less anyway.)

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  6. What's the matter, cunt? Can't handle people posting the truth about you on your own blog? Cunty-cunt cunt!!!

  7. Dear 'Anonymous,'

    I appreciate your objection to my objection of a word that is highly misogynistic and laden with violent and pornographic connotations. You, to be sure, are a stand up and articulate champion of vulgarity, woman-hatred, and the right of so-called comedians to unleash haphazardly their rabid, vicious fan-hounds on women who respectfully yet adamantly state their opinions. I suppose this is admirable, and that you're like Larry Flynt but with none of the charm, charisma, or intelligence. Nonetheless I am sorry to have offended you.

    I can only sympathize that your deep-seated issues with women prevent you from having apathy, empathy, or any meaningful relationships with women, sexual or otherwise. You probably need help, or at the very least, a good blow-up doll and some lube. I hear they sell those on Amazon.

    Should you feel the need to discuss in greater detail the complicated, multifaceted issues that surround language, gender, and power, please contact me directly. cordelia1974@yahoo.com. If this option causes you too much anxiety--and I'm assuming it will, since you're too much the coward to post your silly quasi-bullying under your actual name, I suggest you start your own blog.

    Yours truly,
    (Mommy of two, Army veteran, good person, human.)