What I Learned: October 10

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

Previously:

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.

Saturday:

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.

it worked for these two right?

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:

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.

Tramp Stamp

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’.

legit my OTP fight me

It’s like, c’mon man, fucking support the love and just…fix it.

FUCKKKKK.

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.

PLUS.

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.

Monday:

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.

Tuesday:

I honestly don’t remember what happened but there was candy and everyone was happy about that.

Wednesday:

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.

Nah.

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.

Thursday:

Emergency packing and lunching for what will be the best weekend ever.

BUT FIRST.

Jack Hanna planning.

Friday:

Special edition.

What I Learned : September 18th

This week, we return the scene of the crime, climb the (sorta) highest rooftop, get grenades lobbed into our chest cavities and buy hats

Saturday

Feels like a haze. Perhaps it’s due mainly to the fact that I’m running on irregular sleep, working long hours and the weather just can’t decide between hoodie and heatwave but it feels like everything is on fire.

This is not the first time I’ve used this meme.

Between the standard protocol for the day, there’s a shoot that I’m somehow pulled into coordinating on an equipment level and maybe it’s because I’m still trying to understand how the word, ‘No’ works, I wind up doing that plus freaking out about a million other things that after the fact aren’t even important, I just need to sit and be reminded that I’m not a surgeon, I’m not saving the world and no, no one gives a good goddamn about your feelings.

I should be on Grey’s Anatomy or something though…

A contact pulls through and I wind up going BACK to the event and this time, enjoying the space. I take a few pictures, have two glasses of white and feel like a snob.

Then she happened.

When you’re at a thing that you initially went with with other people (who left) and you’re there trying to figure out if it’s worth staying, you tend to do two things; stare off into space, or stare at your phone. I don’t have anyone really to talk to so I stare at the third option, my camera.

While there a sprite of a thing flits up to me and says, “You’ve got great energy.”

I am actauually standing in a corner with a bottle of water and my camera fidgeting and trying to not run home for more work to finish and sleep to catch up on. These are things I need kid, not your energy.

The strange thing about girls like these is that I keep attracting them. In a past life I had attracted Charlie and for a moment it made some kind of sense but I didn’t really see it as anything besides two people who genuinely liked each other but Charlie wanted more than I could give. Interestingly enough, it would be the things that happened with Charlie that would bring me to Waffle.

These girls convince you with their strange charms to do rails of cocaine and take selfies with cops.

(neither of these things happened)

They’re the kind of lightening in a bottle that all the terrible indie rom coms have fetishized to the point that when you see them, you want to run in the opposite direction.

Anyway, Dynamite convinces me to walk out with her and a friend where I wind up escorting them over to the East Village for dinner. I drag my sorry carcass the hell home…and deal with lousy trains because why not?

a girl like you should come with a warning sign

Sunday

My increasing panic allows me to multitask but I’ve also hit a personal breaking point.

I get home and sleep for twenty minutes, eat dinner then spend the next two hours in various sprawls on the couch until I drag my ass into bed to watch a lackluster episode of Fear The Walking Dead while simultaneously resembling the newly dead.

I vex on the title and ask Waffle is maybe it should’ve been named “Rise of The Walking Dead” or if that was too literal.

Monday

I sprint into Brooklyn, still wind up getting there late but am granted ten minutes to plot something on my left arm that I hope will bring me confidence I so desperately need. I’m continuing to build on armor that keeps me from the world and gives me something pretty to look at.

In the midst of all that, I oversee an edit on the project from Friday that looks pretty damned cool.

I get back into the city proper, wind up aimlessly wandering 14th Street and pick up Ant-man, a new book and wander into a bar.

BECAUSE IM TRASH.

I’m then given the worst batch of whiskey gingers I’ve had…and of course it’s from the pretty but stupid bartender. It’s her second day in and no one told her the dump the liquor skip the soda rule. She looks like Naya Rivera’s impression of Kim Kardashian.

just as vacant in the eyes too.

Of course the male clientele love it…I’m a mean bitch who just can’t tolerate pretty girls without a lick of sense.

A Jameson rep is MERCIFULLY at the bar today, shilling the nectar of the gods.

She gives the bar a free shot.

I close the tab.

Then remember the place has great burgers.

I move.

She follows me with those big dumb glassy eyes.

She tries to palm off a fucking GIN AND GINGER on me and I tell her, “WHISKY ginger and don’t charge me for that.”

I get a burger, pay only for the burger and wind up getting four more less than shitty whiskeys but have no buzz, an upset stomach and have been mansplained about digital.

I’m having a right proper Monday.

Waffle doesn’t text me again after starting my day with a ‘Do you think Old Navy is having a sale?’ text to which I replied, “More than likely, wanna meet and find out?”

Waffle: “I just got home, Im’ going to sleep.”

Then radio silence. You’d think I’d be used to it but it’s just one of those things where…here, I’ll let this clip describe it.

Every text message is the equivalent of “opening my heart with a knife and continuing to remind me that this could be us but I’m playing.”

I meet a lot of people they do nothing for me and my increasing distance with humanity is essentially alienating me from the rest of the world; I’m fine with that. I am. To a degree because as I get colder, I wonder if Waffle will even notice. there’s a gulf between us, life making it worse and ever the painful optimist, I keep building a bridge out of whatever I can find and securing it with whatever I can so that Waffle knows to cross it, meet me in the middle and let’s go through this together.

I wind up walking home after my less than stellar bar day, determined to never do it again because my jeans are fitting me awkwardly and the last thing I need is to be miserable AND overweight because they go hand in hand in the misery train.

Tuesday

I get an early morning text message and immediately backflip out of bed…

then fall back to sleep.

Waffle needs to go clothes shopping and of course, exhausted and grumpy as I am, I get up, get dressed and I’m out the door.

We text back and forth and maybe it’s the residual feelings from yesterday but I feel that stirring happen and I wind up flirting, poorly, but it happens. I had over a sticker that made me think of everything I believe because to be honest, I just need that magic to work and for Waffle to understand it works best when it’s believed in together. We get on the bus and talk the usual bullshit while I work from my phone. Try as I might, I just can’t not be working. Good bad, who knows. We wind up at the mall where I fallow Waffle around like the lovesick puppy I am. At Old Navy I stare and then try not to. At Hot Topic (shut up) I stare and flirt and I watch the way those cheeks pink with each bad pick up line. It’s so bad the girl behind the counter is giggling. We get brunch (legit, lunch was breakfast, I understand the hype behind brunch now) I get Dairy Queen and Waffle get’s Nathan’s. I stare again, and do my best to not look so thirsty but it’s one of those fuck it things at this point.

The day is nice until Waffle awkwardly, on a bus full of people, mentions that the odds of our getting back together after two years are not in my favor.

That sound you hear?

That’s another large chunk of my heart being shattered under them sneakers.

I hold it in and ramble things that I believe to be true and get the, “What do you want me to say?” answer over and over again.

I ramble and make a few coherent words and apologize for everything again. I wind up crying. I suck it up. “I just want you to see me the way you saw me the first time. I feel like you’re denying it, I feel like you’re doing your best to not feel that because it wasn’t the best towards the end. When I left the job (we were in mutual positions) the thing that upset me most was not having an excuse to see you every other day at work, not even that I’d been dropped from the roster. Isn’t that sad? The fact that not seeing you was more upsetting than not knowing how I was going to pay bills or take care of myself?”

I saw Waffle wiping away tears out of the corner of my eye and honestly, I couldn’t help the small twinge of joy that gave me.

I mention that we have mutual tattoos as well and that’s just a strange coincidence right? The quote that means a lot to me:

I mean

And another that mirrors mine; one that I got years back to impress Waffle in the first place. That was five years ago. I went alone and I got it done and showed it off. The look in those eyes.

I think I’ve romanticized something that’s slowly driving me insane.

I see the signs, I see the patterns, I frequently ask the universe and work and work and work and I just keep seeing the signs everywhere and I just can’t ignore them. I can’t.

Am I wrong?

I haven’t cried about it in awhile, stress and anxiety working their wonders to keep me from melting down into a pile of tears and sadness but I wind up falling to pieces as soon as I get home anyway. I also knock out a few pitches and ideas while trying to tell myself that these two days were supposed to be chill and relaxing, not bizarre and upsetting.

There’s another wonderful life lesson to learn: happy is just not something that I can actually be, neither is content or satisfied. I’m in perpetual state of ‘shit happens, deal with it, live fight die repeat.’

Instead of being a normal person and watching Narcos like all the cool kids I wind up watching the Strange Empire and having a deep heart eye emoji for Cara Gee.

I have a type.

Hours later I text a rambling message to Waffle that repeats everything I’ve been saying for the last two cringeworthy years only to basically get nothing in response even though it was something I was prepared for, it’s still not something that I wanted to get, y’know?

Meanwhile, whatsername from three weeks back keeps trying to talk to me and honestly, I don’t know how many ways I’ve said to go away without sounding like a prick.

The irony is, I was flattered for two minutes until whatername gave me Charlie vibes. I ran like someone lit my ass on fire and I’m still running…in the direction of the wall that Waffle put up.

There is nowhere else I want to be and nowhere else to go and Waffle knows it.

I’m trying, I am but out of everything in this world that could possibly mean more to me it’s that.

It’s true. You don’t know what you’ve got til it’s gone.

In the middle of all of this, the video from Friday makes it onto the internet: 

PS. My neighbor’s choice in music is shitty.

Wednesday

Work starts off with an insane rush of things to get done. I have a shoot in Brooklyn that I haven’t had time to prepare for outside of the precursor questions and research that I’ve done on my days off. It feels good to be out in the field though, especially considering the fact that I don’t have a chance to obsess over the fact that I know damn well Waffle won’t be texting or calling me early in the morning for awhile.

A care package I’ve been meaning to deliver to my brother arrives courtesy of my mom and he texts me with OMG. So I guess it was a hit. I feel like an absentee parent when it comes to my brother. My days are pretty loaded and I don’t know how to unplug myself and just be in the moments anymore. I may also be suffering from that success thing and I don’t want it to stop because that’s what’s afforded me the ability to even indulge in the stupid things that we enjoy.

We hit Williamsburg for this shoot and we film in an amazing space and I hope to god that it’s a hit because it’s been such a bumble of a thing to work on. Everything from timing, to sound to picture has been a bit of a struggle but I have this weird faith it’ll all come together…mostly because there are worse things that can fall apart.

I climb onto the roof and sprain my thumb (self diagnosis, we’ll see what it looks like tomorrow) and film what I can in the heat and on a rooftop, making it up as I go along while my thumb is throbbing. I may be so tired, dazed and out of my own head that it doesn’t phase me, a person who’s uncomfortable with heights, am standing on a rooftop shooting skyline and painters. I think i’m just accepting that things have to be done and if I’m doing them, I’m gonna fucking do them.

I get back to the office with enough time to shovel food in my face (my lunch is now dinner) and finish out the day. I discover some fun features on Snapchat that I won’t use because you don’t need to be subjected to my face so, there, you’re spared. HOWEVER, my Snapchats tend to be hilarious as hell so, you should follow me on that. (invisiblecircus)

I get on the phone and talk to my brother for a half hour where we giggle about plans for Comic Con as I make my way over to Midtown Comics because I have a serious problem. I wind up picking up four comics and a Cobra New Era cap.

You have to respect the branding

I’ve basically taken to wearing caps because my hair is in a weird transitional phase, I’m too lazy to even style whatever it is living on my head and my self esteem is trash so…you know…dress it up.

I get home watch some of the debates and wonder how the hell these people even function in the world.

Fingers crossed I get to pull off two projects for work.

Thursday

I pull together a few things that work and by work I mean they don’t blow up in my face.

I spend some time in St. Patrick’s Cathedral.

Walk to the train and get home in no time.

Rewatching Grey’s Anatomy gets me mad though…Calzona…still broken up.

Friday

I get an early start and manage to get things done. I interview an intern, which is odd because what the hell do I know?

I offer to pick up beers for everyone and see the mood change. Liquor, the great uniter.

It’s funny because I always manage to make the things that seem improbably possible and while it’s a great trait to have, I don’t want to be the one who comes in and manages to make things happen with almost no planning.

Then again, like i said, my life is a strange trip.

Dear DC: Don’t Get Cocky with Suicide Squad or Batman vs Superman Just Yet

After last night’s insane Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice trailer was released, I kinda had to wonder if DC might be making the wise move with their whole grimdark thing.

I mean.

You showed me Wonder Woman and my face basically did this:
Let's Put a Smile on That Face

Then, later on in the evening’s festivities came a sweet little clip which the screengrab is from. David Ayer, writer director of Suicide Squad said, fuck it, here it is. Unlike it’s DCU counterpart, this one, which gives you the first look at Harley, Quinn, Kitana, Boomerang, Slipknot and of course The Joker, doesn’t have a full HD approved trailer so basically, this grainy cell phone footage is all we’ve got for now. So far DC is two for two with their offerings while Marvel and quietly unveiled the incredibly appropriate NSFW Deadpool trailer (which was also leaked) ultimately making Saturday night in San Diego the best night of the convention. Friday, the House That Owns Your Childhood essentially threw down the gauntlet with a star studded Star Wars behind the scenes featurette promising there is more to explore in the galaxy far far away.

But Circus, aren’t you here to talk about how DC shouldn’t get cocky with their new trailers?

Well yeah I am.

With these two trailers, DC like Batman in his Iron Suit is preparing for war and based on the fan response, it seems to be working. So far, the DC camp has taken a very smacktalk stance in the battle for your wallet and dominance in the cinematic world.

CEO Kevin Tsujihara has said, “The worlds of DC are very different. They’re steeped in realism, and they’re a little bit edgier than Marvel’s movies,” and Warner Bros. President Greg Silverman offered his take on DC (vs Marvel): “The filmmakers who are tackling these properties are making great movies about superheroes; they aren’t making superhero movies. And when you are trying to make a good movie, you tackle interesting philosophies and character development.” But, just in case we haven’t gotten the very serious message, Ben has his own take on the differences between the two film universes:

“It is more mythic, it is more grand in that way, and it is a little more realistic. Just by their nature, these films can’t be as funny or as quick or as glib as Marvel movies.”

Sure, Ben and Greg we want to have a deep psychological thriller about how being a hero has taken a toll on the mind body and spirit of a character grounded in the reality of the time with just a hint of the mystical but you’d just shit all over that too.

While it’s WAY too early to say that DC wins 2016, it’s also too soon to say that they’re finally understanding how to wrangle in their various properties under one single banner in the way Marvel has. They have actively stated, during the casting process for Justice League, that their CW/TV properties (Arrow, The Flash, soon to be released Legends of Tomorrow and The Atom) won’t ever appear in their DC cinematic universe. So. You’re saying for the past four years I’ve been looking at Steven Amell but I won’t ACTUALLY get to see him in the context of being a member of JLA because you’ve got someone else who’ll be taking the role? Same with Grant Gustin’s Barry Allen being subbed out for Ezra Miller’s Wally West? Okay so you just made me rot my brain with mellowdrama, GLIB FUNNY MELLOWDRAMA to then make me look at a whole new cast of characters who are essentially more expensive versions of the people whom you’ve grown a fanbase with.

Grant Gustin

Ezra Miller

vs

What DC is doing is splintering their own universe, ruining the cohesive bonds between their own properties just to make them all work in one world on the big screen.

So basically just like Convergence.

Imagine that you’re still learning about these comic characters, getting immersed in their worlds and diving into their years of history being retold on tv. You have embraced these TV actors and their stories as your new visual canon truth, dedicated fanfiction and Tumblr gifs to these people and then you’re told that world is a lie.

DC can’t get cocky or arrogant about any of their films because they continue to commit the same sin as their comic books; they accept one canon one truth only reject it in favor of the one that sounds more plausable. They want to continue to be the Anti-Marvel with grounded realism and real world consequences, frequently relying on comments like the ones quoted earlier for their basis in their logic. It’s worth pointing out that the events in the first The Avengers movie and Captain America: The Winter Soldier all had consequences that impacted both their MCU and blossoming TV titles in Agents of S.H.E.I.L.D and in Netflix’ series Daredevil without needing to be glib about the entire thing. DC while throwing their shade should be checking the playbook and developing their properties in a far more skilled manner.

That’s not to say that Marvel’s current success was straight out of the box; the company had suffered many a film fumble. Two Hulk movies within years of one another, the wildly varied Blade trilogy, Daredevil (thanks again Ben) the two vastly different Punisher films (fan favorite Thomas Jane vs the very gruff and more Frank Castle-esque Ray Stevenson). Their licensing agreements left them without the X-Men, Spider-Man and The Fantastic Four as they worked towards becoming a film studio; some of these ‘rebooted’ movies would be launched from Marvel Studios and slowly they began laying the groundwork for the multi-tier Marvel MCU phases we’ve seen. The blockbuster purchase of the company by Disney, didn’t hurt either. All of the mis-steps, retooling, ret-conning and ultimately accepting of their fates allowed for Marvel to take truly unique risks in their cinematic storytelling giving the world talking raccoons and one line trees. While still acquiring their properties, they’ve managed to tap into the TV market, which I will admit DC was dominating from Smallville straight on through to to their DC Direct animated movies, and have seen how DC failed to connect their visual dots. Marvel is working on retooling their animated series, canceling various shows and rebooting them to meet with current published issues as well as link with the films being released. DC cranked out multiple versions of the same characters with different stories and actors, banking on the name alone and hoping that they could continue to work behind the scenes to present a unified product.

Marvel launched solo film franchises for a majority of the Avengers. Except Black Widow but I don’t wanna talk about that.

even Coulson got a one shot for fuck’s sake.

and I like him.

Anyway, Marvel LAUNCHES solo films, introducing each character with the love and support that comes from a proud house, making sure the right people are in place and involved in the creation of each project and then forms the first of three Avengers movies. They break apart and come back together, it’s beautiful really.

DC is tossing all the kids into the pool with BvS: unveiling my beloved Wonder Woman, teasing Aquaman and possibly hinting at the rest of the JLA team when the second half of the gargantuan film launches the following year. They’ve gotten you hyped for a movie that will more than likely tax your brain with the information overload; they don’t trust you to get to know these characters and instead chose to use familiar faces to introduce you to their new friends.

It’s like going to a party and not knowing anyone but you’re like, okay I’m fine with this…while texting your real friends

unless this guy is there, then, bye friends

It feels like you’re going to sit in a theater with a numb ass and a bladder full of soda trying to find a reason to care because from their previous track record, cinematically, DC doesn’t care enough to try again. Maybe it’s the curse of Hal Jordan or maybe they think this version of events will be the canonical moment that truly does bring their movies together. I can see the logic in introducing them into Batman vs Superman: Dawn of Justice but it’s also at the risk of telling a story; it’s Bats, it’s Supes, its Diana it’s a roll call of heroes you’re not sure you should care about and for the next two hours you’re going to try your best to do so.

It could even happen with Suicide Squad. The only characters a neophyte would know or recognize are The Joker and potentially Harley Quinn; the success banks heavily on making them either likable or believable enough to engage a non-reader while entertaining a hardcore fan. That’s a lot to do.

Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe I’m seeing it as a long time Marvel fan who’s basically been through some of the best, worst, misguided points in the company’s history and I fangirl super hard for them but I’ve also done the same for DC and it’s difficult to cheer for a company that hides behind the same two characters.  maybe it will actually work out and the fans will be glad they suffered so long with the errors in continuity, retconning, rebooting and Batfleck but it’s the fact that DC is so transparent in their dislike for Marvel’s success that it makes it hard to not want to make a cheap comment. Maybe they can pop their collar this year; Marvel said they were going to scale back on their promotional work at the con. The things that stood out from this weekend are things that would’ve popped if both houses were pumping out hits (Heroes Reborn, Fear The Walking Dead) so it’s hard to gauge the success of the presentations at this point. The biggest miss for WB/DC is not releasing the official HD version of the same trailer; the reps are all very pissed the video even leaked and have been going on a takedown spree in an attempt to erase what’s been seen. The official word is that they wanted it to be just for the people in Hall H. I wonder if they would’ve flashy thinged everyone to ensure that nothing leaked.

It can’t be unseen.

This is the digital age. Don’t be so arrogant as to think that Hall H is some sacred Fortress of Solitude where nothing gets out. If anything, thank whoever uploaded the video for you because it’s burned up the internet just as quickly as the BvS clip has, going viral in a matter of hours. Marvel says they will release the clean (and dirty) versions of their Deadpool trailer in the next few weeks and that trailer was also leaked overnight.

So just release it you clownshoes, you need the help love and over analysis of the nerd community to ensure that our ADHD addled brains remember that both Batman vs Superman and Suicide Squad are released NEXT YEAR.

Do you see why DC can’t get cocky just yet?

I Wanna Get Better

So.

full disclosure.

I’ve been struggling with unemployment for the past few months.

At first, it started out as a massive kick to the face. Dear God, here I am, 29 (at the time) earning my way through the complex digital world, meeting people, networking, not truly understanding the power I wield but I’m paying my bills on time and contributing the the toxic sludge that is the internet.

so paid

so paid

After a few days, it turned into a mini vacation. I was still meeting people for chats, consulting on best practices, sleeping in a bit, hanging out with people. It was like seeing the world for the first time in awhile. Obligations were gone for a moment.

but forever

After about a month, it became a debilitating, soul crushing experience. Waking up early to stare off at the job listings screen, wondering why anyone wasn’t returning my calls or emails then forcing myself to eat breakfast then go to the gym to clear my head.

srsly

After two months, my birthday.

I’m now 30 years old.

I can’t celebrate anything really. I have a party of sorts. I get a little drunk but it’s that kind of drunk where you want your feelings to drown so you can float to the surface, embracing clarity and say you’ll never do that again knowing damn well you’re going to do it.

It all feels like a surreal nightmare where I’ve been dropped into a Fincher movie; all muted hyper colors and textures and there’s an alternate version of me walking around, successfully. Okay so I may have described the plot to Fight Club but it’s the same idea really. There is another version of me, improving, living, thriving.

I am Jack’s complete disillusionment

 

I figure, while I’m booking random gigs, for which I am grateful, I would just try to live a little bit. I try going out early in the day, New York in the summer is my favorite type but I find myself getting up early to go to the gym, be upset, get rejection letters, going home, showering and sitting in my bedroom, AC barely on watching Netflix.

You do a lot of soul searching and personal assessing when something like this happens. As it happens, I’ve been coping with a separation, so it was basically a mega shitshow hurricando mega force suckfest. You start picking things apart, putting the pieces into boxes to really get a big picture and see what happened. I didn’t lose my job due to performance, just the economics of the business. Like a survivor on Lost or Gilligan’s Island, I pick through the debris and see what I can salvage. Turns out I’m more a Gilligan than a Professor. Mercifully, the relationship is still sort of salvageable, but that’s a whole other entry. OR several. Stiff upper lip, I work through it.

I go to a lot of bar events.

I don’t tan.

I’ve dyed my hair at least four times already.

By August I book a gig working the U. S. Open (I dye my hair an acceptable color) The job feels like summer camp really.

When I close out this job, I make the note to spend more time in a gym because there is nothing on Serena Williams’ body that jiggles. THE BOOTY REAL.

actually watched this match. it was intense

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

I make money, meet people, pass around my business card and discuss business opportunities but the entire time, I find that I’m struggling with just what is that I am offering? What is that I do?

I continue checking my email, sending my resume out, collecting rejection letters, random messages for gigs and the occasional offer to enlarge my penis. As if my problems aren’t enough, my phantom dick is small. fuck my life.

I go to New York Comic Con.

IMG_0372

where I sat in the same room as Edward Norton and Michael Keaton

I work a Thanksgiving Day commercial for one day, setting up office in a home gym in a house with a price tag that makes me weep.

I work a lot of odd jobs.

I work.

What am I doing?!

I’ve become a drone, mindlessly filling out job application after application, hoping to at least land a gig that caters to my skill set. I apply for retail jobs, knowing full well they are the very textbook definition of temporary and I fear repeating the vicious cycle that the last six years have been. (As me about it some time, I’ll tell you all about it. Preferably over drinks.)  I wind up doing more writing and land a few pieces on Vh-1 which fuels me to find my niche and again I’m dumbfounded.

I’ve never done a career assessment. Ever.

In college, I was always in the career office looking at job postings, figuring I can do that, that sounds easy enough. I never sat with anyone to discuss my skills and interests. I never figured out what it was thatI could do and then was completely baffled as to why I had been passed for the position. I still never went to see anyone about it, figuring it was because I hadn’t had a proper resume to begin with. How many times as a college student were you passed on a job because you didn’t have a job before? (I’ve been working since the age of fourteen)

After that, I just dove head first into everything that I could, figuring something would stick in my wheelhouse. I worked in A&R, I worked as a camera operator, post production assistant, I was a copywriter, I was a delivery girl (woman!), I ran social media for various entities. I did it all, I did too much, I wanted to do more. I’d bitched about everything going on, as is the right of all working people in a capitalist society doing what they can to survive.

I have a resume with various skills but none of that experience tallied into a single marketable skill; there is no singular thing that I can define as my ability. (Swearing doesn’t count, sadly) I have a fairly succinct resume, divided between all my media work and then my production work into two fairly respectable entities, never mind the jobs in between all of that. Looking at them side by side, I feel like I’ve been a million different people from one day to the next and none of us can agree on just who we are professionally; we just want to collect the credit, the experience, file it and see where it takes us. (forget the hot mess that I am on a personal level.)

Just what the fuck is it that I do?

Like I said. I’ve never done a career assessment. I’ve had professional friends work with me on molding and shaping who I am, or at least guiding me in the direction to which is best suited to my abilities. We all agreed that I am a Swiss Army Knife. Adaptable to situations, capable, smart, stylish. Pocket sized.

I should pick a better selfie

I tried to do it myself.

What I’ve figured out so far is that I write a lot, (ramble coherently mostly), enjoy comic books, movies, I have pretty gay tendencies, I like animals, movies, off-color humor, drinking and swearing.

Basically I’m a Puerto Rican Judd Apatow character.

(if he was y’know a little more diverse in his writing)

I struggle with anxiety and I learned that when I speak to people, I have to memorize a script so that I can avoid mumbling something incoherent. (Fun fact! I was a theater kid for most of my life but my decision to get tattoos and dye my hair often tanked it.) I started getting more in depth with researching things, reading deeper into some articles. I wrote down ideas and tried testing them out on this blog. I tried dressing better too; apparently t-shirt and jeans is not standard grown lady apparel. I did not receive that notice. Studies indicate that doing little things to improve one’s appearance can increase their confidence and outwardly influence people they meet and thusly line your pockets with money. (vicious cycle)

Now armed with this newfound knowledge, I send out my resume, cover letter and articles to various publications in the hope that one of these strange traits will land me something somewhat resembling an opportunity but I still feel fake. I work and tweak the details, polish myself up, sell sell sell. I curb my social media habits, especially if I’m using them to market myself. I can’t have my moody music posts deterring people from considering me. (we’ve all posted Coldplay songs, shut up) Even with all of this, I feel off.

There’s a nagging feeling at the back of my head. Something I keep missing and I know it.

I’ve always wanted to be a writer.

I didn’t list that as something I’m fully capable of doing.

me editing this mess

When I was employed full time, all I did was write on the side, the phantom ideas taking up my headspace while working on sheets, deadlines and deliveries. When I lost my job, I broke out all my notebooks, pouring over them, pulling them apart for deeper ideas and I started working on them. It felt much like looking through a yearbook when you’ve completely failed at everything. You want to find the place it went wrong and pick up from there, with fresh arms and legs to carry it.  I broke out a fresh notebook, Post It’s tucked into margins with plot points I had to remember and things I need to remember with world building. I started working on them all the time, hoping that maybe all the experience I’d collected would just pour out in the next great American novel because so far, my luck has been terrible. What’s the worst that could happen, really?

The one thing that’s kept me sane has been writing. My reading has declined substantially despite my growing book hoarding habits (thanks Strand!)  and article perusing while job hunting but my writing, my writing has continued. My last article for Vh-1, the controversial Mariah Carey’s All I Want For Christmas Is You May Be Christmas’ Greatest Song. Ever, landed me my first blockbuster article share (including a RT from Mariah’s team) and first brush with “U R A RETARD GO FUK URSELF MARIAH SUX” hate mail in the comments section. I’ve placed six with them and am trying to work on a full time reccurring segment of sorts but haven’t found the right hook as of yet. Truthfully, I haven’t been able to match that just yet; it’s the Thriller article of my young writing career. I’m working on Bad but fear that all anyone will ever want is Thriller. The fact is, I’m writing, so, that’s a good thing.

So.

Let’s recap.

I lost my job.

I worked a lot of other jobs.

I’m still looking for a job.

I will talk about work with you. Over drinks. Or not. Whatever.

Here’s what I do:

  1. I write
  2. I direct
  3. I produce
  4. I create
  5. I take pictures of random animals that I find in the street and fight the urge to bring them home with me because I’m unemployed and can’t afford that kind of lifestyle right now.
  6. I offer tech support in emerging technologies
  7. I tell dick joks
  8. I can manage YouTube, Tumblr, Facebook, Twitter, Instagram, Vine accounts. With some bilingual flair.
  9. I am a strange brand indeed but you won’t be bored.
  10. I’m the invisiblecircus

Let’s see where it goes because I want to be a better me.