This week, I return to my comic book roots, get optimistic about text messages and try to not lose my head.
Last week was pretty busy and I’ve noticed that I’ve completely lost control
After driving round in the rain yesterday and finding two action figures and buying two bluray movies at Target while hoping that Waffle would reconsider saying yes to me and a rainy joyride, I wind up at my brother’s house to deliver passes for NYCC. The college trip to Howard is cancelled thanks to the looming disaster that is Hurricane Joaquin and I’m allowed to sleep in a little bit, which, given how badly I’ve been sleeping is basically like being given a golden ticket.
I’m up early for no good reason other than I’m now waking up before my alarm clock. Either because I’m not sleeping right or because I know the sounds of shitty top 40 radio enrages me more than the braying sound the alarm makes so to avoid being cranky, I just wake up.
I’m feeling more and more tired as of late and it’s due to large part that my brain is screaming at me about the sleep thing and the fact that I’m just working nearly every day. The funny thing is that I’m also PAINFULLY aware of how close New York Comic Con is and all I want to do is spend time with Waffle in the confines of the smelly aisles of the Javitz Center because in my head I’ve made it my mission to win that heart back and I think that Stockholm Syndrome is a legitimate means of making someone fall back in love with you.
I head to work and get in early enough to walk and watch something on Netflix before settling into an awkward work flow where we all want to be somewhere else and debate the merits of covering the Chik-Fil-A opening.
Mostly for science because supposedly it’s the greatest chicken ever but I feel a little weird wanting to try chicken as supplied by hyper religious bigots who would sooner throw said chicken at me for being bisexual.
I have fast hands and would catch it and eat it with joy but also that’s too much work.
Either way, we finish and walk over to see what the fuss is about and let me tell you, it’s a mile long line, no exaggeration.
I wind up getting Wendys.
BECAUSE THAT IS FUCKING DELICIOUS.
Sunday is much nicer weather wise than Saturday or Friday.
It might also be because I got an early morning text message from Waffle.
It’s sickening how my mood, my entire brain chemistry changes once I get a message from her; it’s almost as if I could take on the entire world with an arm strapped to my back, win and be home in time for Once Upon A Time with Waffle and chill. This kind of thing can kill me. In any case I enthusiastically answer the text with the kind of eagerness that basically is embarrassing.
So we agree sorta to meet after work which mercifully goes by quickly.
Netflix and chill is not to be.
Waffle basically slept the entire day away.
I’m not crushed so much as I saw it coming because I’m pretty good at predicting that kind of thing. Either way, the little tingle still lingers.
I wind up doing laundry, eating a sandwich and watching last week’s Grey’s Anatomy On Demand. I wind up making gagging noises while Callie flexes on Arizona and her ‘new girlfriend’.
It’s like, c’mon man, fucking support the love and just…fix it.
They let all the other trash OTPs get atleast fifteen sporting shots before one of them dies or something Shondalandy happens. Callie goes through a fucking windshield, delivers her premie baby, survives heart failure and physical therapy, MARRIES Arizona who then loses her leg in a plane crash THEN cheats on Callie THEN buy a house together then…
the fuck man?!
Love works somehow in all of this and then they’re like, nah they’re good let them date other people.
My skin crawls.
it’s like no one knows what goes into being that open or vulnerable with humans. They’re awful. They’ll maim you. I believe that love works like a stronger friendship. I call you bro. My best friend. Not because I don’t respect you or don’t love you. You’re the best friend I have. Everyone else is trash.
Anyways. I continue with laundry and prepare myself to throw socks at the TV during Once Upon a Time.
Once Upon a Time and let me tell you…
If they’re not angling Regina and Emma together, they need to tell the production staff because for fuck’s sake, you don’t romcom zoom and light two people who are supposed to be plutonic bros. I mean if you casually cruise the Tumblr tags, it’s basically going to make you a believer.
also I just happen to think that chemistry is something you can’t fight.
They’re totally bros. They watch out for each other in ways that other people don’t. It’s fuckin’ beautiful.
In anycase, I wind up watching that, getting caught in the feels and watching Fear the Walking Dead.
Then I get another text.
We wind up talking throughout the episode and I gotta say (I also have to admit that I know you’re probably reading this and if you are, well, hi.) it’s still a really nice feeling. I’m still optimistic as hell as evidenced by the most vivid dream I’ve had in a long time that only makes me feel like the universe is listening and for that, I’m thankful.
The world is a blur and I’m told I have an insane task to pull off. Plan a massive field trip, plan an NBA interview, chase after Jack Hanna and his people for paperwork and keep my wits about me while balancing multiple shoots on one day.
It all falls into place somehow.
I honestly don’t remember what happened but there was candy and everyone was happy about that.
I’m in Brooklyn working on this project and I’m wandering the halls of the a government building and I can’t help but wonder if in another life, could I have actually gone into politics.
I live in my head.
We have a great conversation about art and gentrification and I hope that I can find the brain power to really put together something dynamic.
In the meantime, two other shoots go off and I have to pat myself on the back for not completely melting down while exchanging confusing text messages about the status of comic con passes that have suddenly come up as available.
I’m good at multitasking I really am, I may be short circuiting a little because I can’t even come up with a good enough logical answer so I tuck my phone in my pocket and work work work.
I leave at 9.
I get home and watch TV and color. Yes. An adult coloring book works wonders. I have a decent talk with Waffle and for some reason, all the ghosts of the past drift into my mind and I’m immediately reminded that despite the petty arguments and sniping, we’re two people overworked, decently paid and sexless. I wonder if trying to diffuse the tension would help or only throw gasoline onto an already raging nuclear aftermath that is our lives. At this point, given my ranting on Sunday about OUAT all I want to do is find a goddamned happy ending.
Emergency packing and lunching for what will be the best weekend ever.
Jack Hanna planning.