Hello, you are listening to Musing Interruptus. What would the wicked witch of the story do on a Sunday evening?  Mirror, mirror on the wall, who is the fairest of them all… I say them because I am a whole other can of worms. Emphasis on the worms. Squirmy, slimy worms. Protein-filled worms. Transformative little buggers. Aren’t we all what we eat?

I’d like to be an eagle, soar through the air, or a cheetah, faster than a speeding bullet. Oh wait, that is mighty mouse. I could do that too. Here he comes to save the day. Wait, that is a middle-aged woman. I wouldn’t eat an eagle, a cheetah, nor mighty mouse. Worms, I might. Worm tacos, worm, ice cream. Worm baguettes.-- du dump dum!

I’d like to be a great many different things, but I would also like to be, just who I am. Couldn’t I just be? Undefined by you or me? Could I just b ...