the week that was

What I Learned – October 16th

This week’s edition is super deluxe with photos, overworking, heart eyes emojis and flames. I loiter in the Javitz Center for New York Comic Con, spend some cash flexing, pull off a few Hail Mary shoots battle a cold and win.

Friday

Day one of New York Comic Con starts with me basically getting wide eyed and overwhelmed. I bought these tickets back in May and here we are, deep in the heart of fall, walking around in a place that I’ve come to know quite well. The show gets bigger every year and this year, by some small miracle, isn’t as crowded. The reason is simple, The Walking Dead have a massive event at MSG and half the thirst traps are there and not at the con.We hit a panel on horror books and during the conversation, she puts her head on my shoulder and I don’t know it’s just…it’s the bees knees.

basically im schmidt

I wind up buying some t-shirts early because, while everyone knows Sunday is the shopping day, I know the shirts in my size will sell out fast. I wind up with an SSR shirt from Marvel, an Agent Carter shirt designed for We Love Fine along with a We Love Fine Toothless tee for Waffle.  I drift back and we head out…but first…I buy my first ever Comic Con branded tee. I need more tees like I need holes in my head. I race to Artist Alley where the delightful Ant Lucia signs my copy of Bombshells #2; I miss Marguerite Bennett and forget to bring my Robbi Rodriquez books but there’s always another day. I pick up and get a signed Kevin Wada Catwoman.

I adore that man and want to be friends.

Saturday

It’s day two of New York Comic Con and Waffle and I are on a tear. So far, we’ve hit early morning panels for ABC Family (soon to be Freeform) screening and panel for Shadowhunters.It’s just as you imagined; attractive teens in impossible situations winning and looking attractive doing it. I’m glad I bring my telephoto lens today, despite the incredibly heavy bag and wind up taking some great photos. Followed by that, we watch some of panel for The Chronicles of Shannara and I take a good photos of Manu Bennett and marvel at the fact that Terry Brooks and Mercedes Lackey basically birthed my love of fantasy. Afterwards, super cool Shadowhunter gear in tow, we wind up on the show floor where I basically go completely batshit insane and pick up shirts and loot crates and Marvel Collector Corps boxes. It’s like reverse Christmas but for me.

We sit in on a pilot screening of a series called Containment…which makes us scream FOUR TO SIX FEET every few minutes because viruses and ew.

It’s funny to think how Waffle and I have fallen into an easy rhythm and maybe it’s because I’m slightly delirious from weird sleep habits but it feels like we’re starting over in a strange way.

I could also be making shit up because I’m an idealist and still believe. We get Five Guys for dinner and I stare at her like she’s the most miraculous thing ever. She is.

I have another one of those weird sense dreams and wind up thinking the universe is working in my favor.

basically the whole weekend

Sunday

The finale. I hit Artist Alley early and get Valentine De Landro’s signature on Bitch Planet one, Marguerite on Bombshells #2, Phil Noto on my Black Widow TB,  miss out on Terry Dodson for Princess Leia 1, miss Stacey Lee for Silk 1, and Azceta for Outcast one but it’s okay because I can’t keep running around Artist Alley and leave Waffle with the kids. So we hit the floor and split up; I get another set of Marvel boxes, miss out on the Funko NYCC exclusive tickets for a Pop Game of Thrones Iron Throne, wind up getting a Jack Skellington with Vampire Teddy from Waffle, get an Ant Man Collector Box (meh it’s okay) Hit one panel that I really wanted to go to, The Women of Marvel and am deeply inspired to do more. I believe I’ll be there soon. I’ve always wanted to work there to be honest and I think it’s the fact that I’m so close to things that I want that I believe I can have them, they are mine and that they are due to me.

there’s a reason why I like this guy

Monday

I end up at work wearing the Wonder Woman cap I picked up and pretend to be atleast fifty percent more powerful than my usual 25 percent so I’m actually running at 75%. Fires are everywhere and I have to run out for a shoot on location with animals.

YES.

Only, it doesn’t work out that way because communication breakdown.

Consolation prize?

Co-worker got Doughnuttery and them donuts are tasty as fuck.

Tuesday

The hits keep on coming as we steamroll through a news day, I run some budgets and I basically start preparing for the gross inevitability of the cold I’ve been fighting to finally win. I start preparing for a shoot on Wednesday in a designer store and realize, I basically do alot and that’s pretty cool.I spend the last two days talking non-stop to Waffle who’s on vacation.

mood forever

Wednesday:

I start early  and wind up in Little Italy covering the pre-launch of a store called Noah. The founder was the creative director for Supreme and I wind up staring at really nice things and listening to a super chill dude talk about how kids are smarter than we give them credit for, it just looks like they’re doing stupid shit because we have old people eyes.

still get off my lawn

I wind up back in the office where we have to prepare for another field shoot, I may have a celebrity in one room but rap time is a real thing. Go figure.

I leave late and wind up Midtown Comics like, four days ago I wasn’t at Comic Con and pick up a bunch of titles to begin the madness next year.

I get home, take a cough syrup bath and knock out.

Thursday

Imagine the longest day.

Now extend it.

So we were basically doing one thing and then wound up doing three things and I’ve gotta tell you, it was elegant as fuck to watch me, Tits McGee running up and down the hall with gear to move from one studio to the other because sometimes interns aren’t the smartest creatures on the production planet.

I was an intern once but I also knew a) when to act, b) act like I knew what I was doing c) get out of the way of the people who knew what they were doing. There’s nothing more heartbreakingly tragic than an intern who doesn’t have basic common sense or the ability to act like they know what the fuck is going on. If you’re someone who’s looking to get an internship, or start working on things, you need to just take a few deep breaths and get your head in the game. You’ve got to make sure you can fake it til you make it, okay?

It’s just really irksome when you basically just blink a lot and watch people running around to build a set and you’re just…there…

Anyways, it gets done and I have to drink more cough syrup to continue my bumpy road back to 75% operational level so I trudge off from work well after my appointed time to leave and get home just as Grey’s Anatomy ends. Tumblr, you never cease to amaze me because them recaps…girl…let me tell you…Callie…you….you’re dating a girl named Penny and you bring her to mutual friend dinner like…off the rip? Naw. You can’t do that.

https://vine.co/v/eE2h2xKdQwe/embed/simplehttps://platform.vine.co/static/scripts/embed.js

Also, SHONDA HOW COULD YOU DO THAT TO MEREDITH I MEAN THAT’S SOME COLD BLOODED SHIT RIGHT THERE ALSO ARIZONA YOU NEED TO GET HER BACK BECAUSE TRUE LOVE AND ALL THAT AND I HAVE ALOT OF FEELINGS SOMEONE SEND HELP.

Friday

Sorta low key sorta chilled but still wound up doing work because that’s what I do. I get the car and play Uber for Waffle. I pull up, blaring some music (that new Demi Lovato ain’t bad) and I hand over the aux cable…which she sets fire to. It takes everything in me to not mash my face into her neck and just be like, let me love you all over again.

We wind up at Target where she basically takes advantage of my Uberness and picked up a few things. Again, I may just live in crazyville in my head and basically had heart emojis but I did see a lot of blushing. My internal monolog sounds like this:

Irony being what it is, we wind up seeing two people who we worked with who basically knew we were a thing..or at least had suspicions…and their reactions were amazing. It’s been quite some time since we’ve been spotted in the wild and of course it happens when we’re in the place that started it, not to mention that it was in full view of people who are probably still whispering and wondering if we’re together. I keep having these strange super sensory dreams and they’re all connected and it feels like the will of the universe is finally working in my favor.

I have a great job, a chance to really grow and evolve and then there’s this. It’s been the longest strangest most bizarre week of the year and I’m here for all of it. There’s something about October that is filled with magic. It’s not the pumpkins or spiced lattes or even the fucking season change, it’s just the way the universe and I have worked over the past few years. Waffle and I got together on Halloween, my favorite time of year and since then I get a little wistful for that moment when a spark became a fire and we just burned bright. I like the idea of the phoenix. I like the idea of doing it all over again, better, stronger, braver.

I sneak pictures while we’re at, of all romantic places, Buffalo Wild Wings and make strange small talk about futures while trying to not stare at each other. There’s only a small table between us but it’s a million miles and a dozen people in the entirety of the restaurant but we’re just there and it felt like it was going to be alright.

We are the same people, scarred and changed by whatever it is that people go through and we’re still bumping into each other the way you do when you’re home in the dark. It’s strange and familiar and it’s comforting, scary but it makes things bearable when you know that there’s a light right there that you can flip any time and see the person standing there, just as confused as you are as to why it took so long to find that in the first place.

On the drive home, she takes over the AUX and we’re laughing and joking and just being in the moment and I swear I wanted to kiss her and I think she would’ve let me. I tested the waters with a well time joke about her smile and the blush…

total sidebar, this movie was the first one to accurately describe what it is when you see a girl and just get stupid faced

I drop her off and tell her I’ll text her when I’m home and wind up blurting out love you and she smirked and nodded.

wedding vows forever

So I guess you could say this week was one for the record books.

Now universe, do your thing.

 

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.

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.

Does a T Shirt Make A Fan?

The above photo was Tweeted out earlier this week when a Aimée Morrison (@digiwoonk) while shopping in Target Canada shopper found this delightfully idiotic baby pj set. Morrison is an asspciate Profressor working in digital humanities and new project media design and theory. Which sounds super badass.

In any case, Aimée shared her disappointment with the pj options as they appeared to encourage gender conformity in BABIES, particularly that girls were only going to date superheroes while the boys would grow up to be the heroes the girls would eventually date because yay adult behavior in INFANTS. First of all, the color scheme for the girls pj set is hideous; whoever approved that slate heather gray and bright pink obviously hates babies and decent color pallets. It doesn’t stop there, Wal-Mart’s junior section boasts a particularly disheartening t shirt on their website as well as in stores:

Alfred will have something to say about that

So what you’re telling me is that as a woman I’m only as good as the idiot boyfriend I snag in spandex?

Besides fueling obviously dated and tired tropes about where women land in the hero spectrum, it again pairs HIDEOUS pink and gray tones as if to say, hey ladies, you like them dudes doing dude things and you also like pink because we’re guessing that’s what you ladies like.

C’mon.

Maybe if you had that on a black tee with yellow lettering like classic Batman colors, or even the vintage blue and gold coloring I’d be sold on it because then it would match the pairs of converse your average nerdy lady owns and that  is really the fashion that matters. (not really, Batman is pretty much over for me)

Does a t-shirt really make the fan? What is the message that DC is sending to female readers? Marvel isn’t exempt.

It’s not gray and pink but I don’t need a hero.

boys get to be heroes and adorable color combinations

In the long list of things DC keeps failing at, t-shirts seems to be the next notch against them. The Batman’s wife in training shirt is an Officially Licensed product, meaning that someone in their merchandise and branding department had to approve this message before sending it into production, the same with the Marvel shirts. Essentially, the top brass approved it thinking nothing of it and we, the internet denizens were appalled and rightfully so. These major corporations, whether they want to really be responsible for it or not, do shape some of the basic understanding that young boys and girls have when it comes to gender equality. By green lighting these shirts, DC and Marvel effectively say, yeah, girls and women know who these guys are but we’re pretty sure they don’t really want to BE them. They’re throwing women a fashion bone by even thinking of them. When kids get a new shirt to show off, you know they’re comparing their designs and the boys are really buying the slogans on the girls shirts while the girls are staring longingly at a Thor shirt that comes with a cape. They slowly accept the burden of being the lesser because a cartoon character on 100% cotton said so; the company responsible reminded them that this is a boys world and you’ll never really get to have all of it. Is it really the case? Hopefully not but those lessons come from parents who are ideally teaching them that everyone is equal and we’re all capable of extraordinary things. The shirts are exterior expressions of their internal values and in essence, who they are as people. If you tell a girl she’s only as good as the boy she snags, she won’t want anything else.

Some women in comics only serve to advance the hero’s journey and have a short lifespan.

Sorry Gwen, you always deserved more.

Other women in comics advance it to the point where you want more from them they you do the male protagonists like Natasha Romanov and Laura Kinney better known as Black Widow and X-23.

Luck be a pair of bad bad ladies

Today Thor # 1 launched and people are lining up to pick up the comic despite mantle of Thor going to a woman Expect the numbers for such a title to be massive, given the controversy behind the entire thing to begin with. How is it possible that we are still living in a world where even our t-shirts are dictated by tropes and dated concepts? A solid majority of passing comic book movie watchers, delighted that they’ll have something cute to wear with something, will no doubt buy it not realizing they’re continuing to fuel a disparity between the sexes when it comes to t-shirts and fandoms. Someone is fueling the demand for idiotic shirts with poor slogans and we, the people aware of the entire thing will be standing in the streets asking why.

A t shirt does not make a fan, a slogan does not define the wearer but they do make statements about who you are and the values that you have. If you don’t like something, do something about it. You should protest it, make a scene about it, make other people aware of what it is that bothers you so much about the object in question. In fact, it’s encouraged. Voice your opinion on why this is wrong and like the old saying goes, money talks. Don’t spend your money on it. Force the brands and companies at large that you are not interested in this type of message and instead voice that there are other ways to tell a comic book shirt than by relying on the same old thing. Yes, there are some girls who just want to be the girlfriend to the tough guy super hero (or super villain). There are even BOYS who want to be the bad girl’s boyfriend but they are always told that no woman is out of their reach while girls are told there are types for them; a lid for every pot as it were. It’s sad that Target and WalMart will continue accepting these shirts, lunch boxes, outfits, toys and other questionable things from Marvel and DC, despite their approval; a buyer from each respective retailer has final say on the things that eventually adorn the shelves. It’s worse because it seems that the majors don’t care about the FAN; they’re still stuck in data that dissects gender, age and income rather than whether it’s a good product to begin with. I’m still super pissed off that there aren’t any Gamora toys in the BOYS or GIRLS toy section and that Black Widow is part of a Legends series that has more Winter Soldiers and more variant Captain Americas than it does BW or Falcon. It’s upsetting to think that you feel like the tangible things that make you a fan aren’t aimed towards you as a consumer because the entities involved don’t consider you to be important enough to be listened to.

The sexism in comics at large isn’t shocking, it’s the fact that the companies themselves continue to feed into the stereotype as though women in the space are tainting and destroying their sacred area with their lady essence. If anything, women in comics have made things so much better, ushering in a new wave of diversity, new ways of telling the same old stories and bringing some of the most talented artists to the medium front and center. So many men seem upset that women are even in shops and if they are, there’s a massive test that they need to pass in order to be taken seriously. Dude. You barely speak english correctly, who the hell are you to quiz me on who’s stronger Thanos or Galactus ? (Answer: Brainiac, watch them keel over in sheer horror) You can ask me where the latest book is and I’ll point your mouth breathing self in that direction, don’t assume that I don’t know what I’m talking about and if I don’t, please believe I will educate myself, I don’t need you.

BRONIES TOOK MY LITTLE PONY FROM LITTLE GIRLS AND TURNED IT INTO THIS GROSS ICKY THING.

While I am a Marvel fan with passing interest in DC, I’ve come to adore the work coming out of Dark Horse and Image, especially when it comes to how female centric their titles and creative teams are. They are interested in storytelling, the hell with who’s at the focus of them. As New York Comic Con fast approaches, it will be interesting to see how things play out when I’m elbow to elbow with some of the shitbrains who are more and more frequently being called out on their shitbrainness.

This is bigger than t-shirts and what they say. This is about being treated fairly and equally because you also like a thing. This is about being able to buy a Thor t-shirt with a detachable cape knowing full fucking well that you shouldn’t be wearing them but dammit if it isn’t good looking! 

This is about being able to wear a shirt that isn’t pink and adorned with some glitter that proclaims you as Batman’s Wife or Captain America’s Best Gal. This is about being able to wear a shirt that says You Kicked Creel’s Ass and All You Got Was A Lousy T-Shirt or I’m The One Coulson Calls. This is about being able to tell the world that while comic books are fairly geeky and cater to a strange and wonderful section of our population, you are someone who loves to live in the world where everyone looks good in spandex, kicks a little ass and works as a team.

It’s about being a hero even when you feel like you can’t go on, it’s about being able to wear something that says you’re more than the sum of your parts and as long as fashion continues to promote otherwise, it’s about fighting until we’re all allowed to wear a shirt that says Training to Be Batwoman.

Check out t-shirts from We Heart Fine because they’re user created and take the high road when it comes to flirting with gender as well as visiting Her Universe because it’s only fair that we support creators seeking to reach a consistently disenfranchised and marginalized group.

I’d rather be a hero than training to be their sidekick.

Thor is A Woman and That’s Fucking Fantastic

There is a major shake up happening in Marvel.

Starting in October, Thor, The Might Asgardian Norse god of Thunder would be…Thor, the Mighty Asgardian Norse goddess of Thunder.

The statement released on Marvel.com:

Marvel is excited to announce an all-new era for the God of Thunder in brand new series, THORwritten by Jason Aaron complimented with art from Russell Dauterman.

This October, Marvel Comics evolves once again in one of the most shocking and exciting changes ever to shake one of the “big three” of Captain American, Iron Man and Thor. No longer is the classic Thunder God able to hold the mighty hammer, Mjölnir, and a brand new female hero will emerge worthy of the name THOR.

More on Marvel.com: http://marvel.com/news/comics/2014/7/15/22875/marvel_proudly_presents_thor#ixzz37Z7NQyO0

Speculation is wild about the origins of the new wielder of Mjölnir, and the only hint that the lucky lady is someone who Thor himself saved. She’s built herself off of his mighty blondness and as of October, we’ll find out just who she is and how Thor lost his mojo.

“The inscription on Thor’s hammer reads ‘Whosoever holds this hammer, if HE be worthy, shall possess the power of Thor.’ Well it’s time to update that inscription,” says Marvel editor Wil Moss. “The new Thor continues Marvel’s proud tradition of strong female characters like Captain Marvel, Storm, Black Widow and more. And this new Thor isn’t a temporary female substitute – she’s now the one and only Thor, and she is worthy!”

Throg

Beta Ray Bill

The hammer chooses the wielder, just like Hogwarts Sorting Hat decides that your weak ass is a Hufflepuff and worthy to wield the hammer. (I’m kidding, I don’t know if Hufflepuff is weak, I’ve always been sorted into Gryffindor) Everyone can be worthy to carry the hammer, which is the great appeal of the entire mythos behind the Cosmic Marvel universe.

In 1978, issue 10 of Thor, The Watcher speculated what would have happened if Jane Foster found the Hammer.

what if i did enough squats to git this outfit?

So it’s not out of the realm of possibility for the ownership to pass from Thor Odinson to someone else. It has happened before. Especially when you consider that Throg was an actual plot point.

Thor is a name, not a title.

Naturally, the nerd hordes had a temper tantrum regarding the sex change because nerd rage.

Essentially, comic book purists can accept Throg, vaguely recall The Watcher’s one shot story about Jane and Mjölnir but for her to actually happening during a current run is a problem. The statement includes (paraphrase) a nod to the neglected female comic book fan, which makes it seem like a bit of a cash grab but it also acknowledges that female fronted titles are in demand and Marvel suits aren’t stupid. Captain Marvel, AKA Carol Danvers has been having an amazing run under Kelly Sue DeConnick which has spawned into a great Ms. Marvel title. X-Men founding member Ororo Munroe, aka Storm, is getting her first lead title despite having been in comics for longer than the recently decreased Wolverine who’s had multiple runs as a lead character. Marvel has been leading the charge in comic book diversity where DC is struggling to keep up. Both companies have the luxury of celebrating 50 years in the business and Marvel seems to be the first out of the old guard to truly embrace that the world is in fact very different today than it was upon some of their classic titles first printing.

 

Yesterday it was announced that John Constantine in the upcoming NBC paranormal horror series Constantine would not be bisexual as is cannon with the comic book. That’s a whole other argument but the nerd rage was interesting. They were dismayed at having this part of the character be downplayed when it was essential to who he is. The show runners also discussed that he will not be smoking as much as he does in his Hellblazer title.

At the heart of the hero is still the heart of who they are.

What does it mean that Thor is being replaced by a woman?

Nothing.

What it means is that readers will be treated to a richer experience in storytelling because you have to make your character someone to care about. As a woman, you’re invested in a character that isn’t another run of the mill damsel in distress and as a male reader, you’re still reading a comic book with a ass kicking lead with a legacy. When Miles Morales, the famously biracial kid from Queens, became the new Spider-man, the world almost imploded. From the nerd purists to the racists, Miles becoming the new Spider-man was the prime example for why comics need to change, why diversity is important and why everyone should feel welcome and represented in the great big world of comics and fantasy. They are escape routes and lessons in being a better person packed into bright pages. People of color and women should be included in this world that essentially doesn’t know the same politics as this one does.

The truth is, Marvel should be working on creating a new female lead, fresh origins, fresh stories, fresh everything. They may still be a long way off considering the success of their legacy titles but the seeds are being planted now. They’ve started that with the introduction of Kamala Khan as the aforementioned Ms. Marvel but there are established rules with that power because of the years of the hero having been male. She still needs to be a hero with an old credo in a modern world that may not welcome her.  By introducing new faces in old roles however, you demonstrate that anyone can and will be worthy of the title of hero.

The rage comes from the boat of comfort being rocked and people who don’t like change being toss out of the boat. We don’t know who the new Thor is and won’t until the title rolls out in October. We don’t know the conditions to which Thor loses his ability just as we don’t know how long she’ll be Thor. For all we know, Sif is the new Mjölnir wielder and the ‘other woman’ is Loki in disguise. That’s what makes the speculation so exciting. Taking someone and putting them into an extraordinary circumstance, like becoming something more is a universal experience. It’s a journey that everyone will go through as they discover who they are. Why should an extraordinary experience like becoming a superhero, a guardian, a crusader be only limited to men, or white men? Why should we continue to tell the other that they will remain that way because comic books say so? We are at an age of discovery, where someone somewhere at every second will discover who they are, who they are meant to be and what greater allegory is there than the superhero comic book title? Image Comics, Top Cow and Dark Horse are fantastic when it comes to the idea of diversity in storytelling but they aren’t the MAJORS like DC and Marvel are, plus, their titles tend to lean more maturely than Marvel and DC do.

I get that people are upset that this is happening to their beloved character but it doesn’t change who that character is at the core of their principles. The wild thing is that when Loki has swapped genders, it’s so totally Loki that it’s accepted. Some of it is ridiculed because people are five and have problems with things that challenge their personal belief systems and that’s cool but their distaste is tainting a very simple thing. Sure, Loki is evil and evil people do lousy things but there was no real uproar once Loki went back to being a boy. Maybe women aren’t allowed to be evil? Even if they’re the god of mischief.

After Ragnarök, Loki returned in a female body working with Doctor Doom so Thor would unwittingly resurrect his Asgardian enemies[40] and manipulated Balder to make him the new successor to the throne of Asgard.[41] In reality, Loki retained his male form after Ragnarok but hid himself inside Thor’s reborn lover Sif. During this period, Hela and Loki used magic to send Loki to the past to cause the events that led to his younger self being adopted by Odin as a means to eliminate Bor, Thor’s grandfather.

You can deal with spectral cosmic forces, space and time travel but a chick in charge, burn down the world.

Bae material either gender

What will be interesting is if the new Thor sticks around, what threat does she pose when it comes to warrior woman iconography? Gender Swapped Starbuck was the space warrior of our dreams but that didn’t come with controversy. We’re years away from Xena who was years removed from Wonder Woman who grand mothered Buffy the Vampire Slayer.. Could the new Thor be the new power character we’ve been looking for in the comic book universe? Can she become the next mainstream hero to stand with Black Widow, Maria Hill, Storm, Kitty Pryde, Black Cat, Melinda May, She-Hulk and Elektra? Of course she can, the real question is, come October, will you be willing to go on that adventure?

Personally, I’m looking forward to covers that aren’t spandex and ass shots. I mean c’mon. I’m badass, but don’t pay attention to my ass, just watch yours while it’s getting kicked.

With San Diego Comic Con just around the corner, one can only speculate that Marvel has succeeded in dominating the show floor and panels with this announcement as well as the media tour for the upcoming Guardians of The Galaxy, which features the daughter of Thanos and master assassin Gamora. Details will probably start surfacing once the con kicks off and we may get an idea of what’s in store for Thor and the new wielder of Mjölnir, so everyone who is butthurt now will be placated later on. Odds are, the answer will be so decent, that whatever controversy that may arise will be quelled by just how stupid they had been in the first place.What we do know is that Marvel is continuing the trend of understanding that readers, good solid committed, readers will always seek, find and buy the titles that interest them because that’s the business they’ve gotten themselves into.

What we want to see is a character that gives new life to an old name, that makes you discover comic books for the first time or rediscover them all over again.

FOUND OUT WHO IT IS:

DC had better step it’s game up.