Chase is my friend. His mom looks like Kristen Wiig. He doesn’t think so.

I’ve been bringing it up for a long time now. Years. I bring it up whenever I can.

At this point, I think Chase is a bit annoyed, actually, by my insistence on the uncanny resemblance. In response to his annoyance, I’ve really committed to agitating on the topic.

Recently, Chase baked an elaborate cake for his mother’s birthday. While I do generally love baking, baked goods, and Chase’s food posts, I watched the progression of his step-by-step Instagram stories coverage of the cake-baking process with anticipation: there would, eventually, be a photograph of his mother with the cake. There must be payoff, right? Then I would, with great delight, fire off a response: “Happy birthday to Kristen Wiig!” (or something equally bland that would still make me laugh).

This all happened as expected. But when the photo of his mom, looking quite lovely in the glow of birthday candlelight, popped up, my roommate, who was looking over my shoulder, said, “Wait, is that Kristen Wiig?”

Imagine my utter joy at having a second, independent and reinforcing opinion!  Here is the google chat exchange that followed (for ease of reading, I’ve consolidated and italicized my writing bits:

Me: I really need to tell you that my roommate saw me watching some of your instastories

Chase: ha!

Me: and she said “IS THAT KRISTEN WIIG”

Me: I’m not kidding

Chase: shut up

Me: no joke

Me: it was the pic of your mom with the birthday cake

Me: so I said yes

Me: I said that you made a birthday cake for Kristen Wiig

Chase: hahahaha

Chase: oh my

Chase: what an alternate reality

Me: I’m going to just start writing short stories about it

Chase woke up one day and discovered that his mother was actually a very famous comedian.

She was still motherly, but often her communication or interactions with him were primarily for the performance value or at his expense.

He couldn’t deny that she was outrageously talented, but a small measure of bitterness was creeping in as Chase had always considered himself to be the funny one in the family.

Not one to be outshone, and certainly not by his mother, Chase set about writing jokes.

What he would realize–and quickly–was that Kristen Wiig, now “Mom,” was strongest in her physical humor and impersonations.

Chase: Somehow she gave birth to him at age 10

Chase simply didn’t have that skillset. Perhaps because the genetic ties between the two were now in question.  Perhaps because he had always taken pride in his composure and subtle physical humor, with the exception of facial expressions, which he delighted in exaggerating.

But regardless of the emerging envy, Chase found himself confronted with a very uncomfortable and previously unfamiliar psychological experience.

He had, until discovering that she was now his mother, thought Kristen Wiig was actually pretty hot.

Chase: I never saw a dime of that bridesmaids money

Now, our hero Chase is a real thinker.  A very analytical guy.  He’s quick too.

So many thoughts crowded Chase’s head as he considered what might actually be happening to him.

Is this a joke?

Is Kristen Wiig in on it?  How self-aware is she?  Should he test her?  Will she still know all the things his mother knew?

Had they traded bodies?  Had the two persons simply merged?

Had his mother always been Kristen Wiig?

He’d never actually seen both of the women in the same room at the same time.

Chase realized he didn’t actually know what his mother had been up to once he graduated high school and left home for college in the big city.

He hadn’t given much thought to how she spent her time when it wasn’t in service of his growth and development.

Chase: You’re ridiculously pleasant

Me: it’s a whole different kind of fan fiction

Me: I think there’s really something here

Me: OH WAIT UNTIL THE MOVIE

Me: Kristen Wiig, playing herself, playing your mom

Chase: In a role of a lifetime

Me: I really think this Kristen Wiig as your mother story could be the next “Being John Malkovich,” don’t you think?!

Chase: Ha! It could be

 

In writing this, I just realized I don’t know (or can’t remember) Chase’s mother’s real name.

My youngest sister challenged me to write more in 2019. It was a pointed challenge. I write for my job, I don’t write for myself. I used to love writing. I suppose I still love it. I just don’t do it.

Her only stipulation was that I write for 30 minutes every week. That doesn’t seem like very much, but it’s proven difficult. Here I am in March, and this is really the first intentional effort I’ve made to put some words down. It’s past time to start.

Creativity is a fussy pet. I can often be an absent-minded caregiver.

Recently two things happened that reinvigorated my creativity and love for writing.

1. My friend baked a cake for his mother’s birthday and broadcast the process on Instagram
2. A colleague at work sent out an email newsletter with an unforgivably stupid typo

The first event inspired pure ridiculousness. I’ll post what I wrote next, together with some background. It was fun, it was irreverent. It was for the single purpose of hassling my friend, possibly making him laugh. I probably got more out of it.

The second event was very different. I used writing to respond to and take back control of a problem that was beyond my repair. Writing, as a form of creative problem solving, can change perspective, emotion, comprehension… and I needed that so I wouldn’t dwell, so I wouldn’t sit in frustration.  I’ll be sure to post more on this as well.

The thing is, each of these instances provoked something in me that I responded to with writing as a part of me. It’s been a long time since writing manifested from my personality– like a function of my character–instead of my using it as just a tool or a skill acquired.

So, more of that. More of silliness, more of problem solving, more of self care. More of all of it. I’m intrigued and eager to discover how writing can serve me and the people I care about in different ways.