Not Working Just to Survive

Matt over at Comics Cavern said something to me today that really rattled me. I am certain that he meant nothing sinister by simply saying that he had no idea I wrote fiction, but it really made a few things hit home.

First of all, I DO write fiction, or at least, I did. In replying to Matt, I sent him links to the two-part story I wrote as supplemental material for my friend Shawn's last novel. After sharing the links, I re-read that story, and you know what? It's freaking good. Not only is it good, but I actually like it. Not only do I like it, but other people, whose opinions matter to me, like it. Why then, did I stop doing something I like and am good at?

The answer isn't easy, but it is simple: because I don't like it right now. Why don't I? That's not so simple. My hope is that this is just a temporary state of being brought on by ennui and general sick-of-it-allness with regard to how I'm currently earning my income. I've been working as an independent contractor, and the work I'm doing is just not stimulating. It's like endless homework assignments for the boring class I can barely stay awake for on the days I force myself to show up. It's not that it's difficult work - it's that sitting down to write used to be something I looked forward to. Now, I'd suddenly rather do the dishes or watch endless Three's Company reruns than compose sentences, so when the paying work is done, I'm so sick of writing that the novel doesn't get worked on. No PoetryAssignment entries are done. No PopBunker posts get done. This blog doesn't get updated.

In short - the joy is being unceremoniously sucked out of writing. This is a problem.

Problems, however, have solutions, and I refuse to accept that this solution is an empty set. I'm going to start right away applying for different jobs. I'll have to give up being able to set my own hours, leave when I want, and work from anywhere, but I still think it'll be a net gain.

This recession is a bitch. I feel compelled by it to say that I'm grateful to have any income at all, even though it breaks my heart to hear how many friends are saying the same thing as they spend day after day in jobs they hate. We are all grateful just to be able to survive. That is so far from okay that it's not even funny.

I will not be defeated by it though. You know what I did yesterday? I sat on a (really tiny) stool at Meltdown Comics and interviewed Scott Ian*.

I sat there, with a microphone up my shirt and hot lights on my face, talking about comic books with an honest to golly rock star so you know what? You're damn right I am not working just to survive. I've been invited back to Meltdown next week to join the guys on their podcast to talk about women in comic books.

I need more of this in my life. These things make me feel alive again. Last night, when Vito from Comics on Comics asked me how I felt about being on camera, I said, "not a problem," out loud while a hyperactive pogo-stick went off in my chest. Even though I was terrified enough to send a couple of spastic text-messages to Michael, who I knew wouldn't hold it against me later and gave me a calm shot of confidence in return, there was not a chance in hell that I wasn't going to see this through.

I can't express how truly grateful I am to have had that experience, and that's not obligatory gratitude to which I feel duty-bound to give lip-service so the Universe won't smite me. That's real thanks, for answering the question "why the hell am I here?" My mind, heart, and spirit have all taken a beating lately, and this chance to be among people who care about what I care about, who refuse to settle for mediocrity, and be not a spectator but a peer among them has re-lit my pilot light.



*For an in-depth report, video of the interview, and chance to win autographed copies of Lobo: Highway to Hell, keep an eye on PopBunker.net.

Yin and Yang, Holmes and Moriarty, Tweety and Silvester...

You know, this blog is titled Be My Villain, but I almost never post anything that actually has to do with villains. Today, I'm fixing that with mention of one of my all-time favorite villains, the Joker. I know, I know, get in line. That's hardly esoteric. People retweeted the hell out of my comment yesterday that no matter who wrote any given comic in which he appears, Joker will always be voiced by Mark Hamill in my head.



Why? Because everyone loves the Joker. Oh, you don't? By all means, think about why not and be ready to discuss it when I re-read The Killing Joke and dive into all the other great volumes I haven't read yet (feel free to make suggestions in the comments, but show your math & tell me why - don't just post a list). Final Crisis and Evan Dorkin's World's Funniest are next on my list. I've never read either and have heard mixed reviews about the former, but whither Virgil leads, Dante will follow, having not been led astray yet.

I just finished reading Batman R.I.P. and though the Joker isn't the central villain, he makes a big enough appearance to enhance my experience of the book. It wasn't on my list, but my LCS had a copy on clearance, and I picked it up while I was there on other business. Remember that I'm born-again to comics, and I haven't read even close to all that's on my list. This was not my favorite Batman story, and like I said, it isn't really a Joker story, but I did like this book. I'm getting used to Morrison's style the more I read, and I'm finding it a good balance to Geoff Johns's relatively straightforward method in the Green Lantern books I've read recently.

For some reason, more folks than usual have been interested in talking about this particular book. Since Twitter is limited to 140 characters at a time, I invite you to join the discussion I've been having about it on Goodreads:

Batman: R.I.P. Deluxe by Grant Morrison


My rating: 4 of 5 stars


View all my reviews >>

Better Things

Inspired by Michael-inspired-by-Melissa-inspired-by-Whitney, a tale of self expression through body modification:

A few years ago, during this extended period of upheaval I was going through, I decided that there wasn't enough change going on in my life and therefore started dying my hair purple. I got various reactions ranging from "wow, purple, huh?" to "whatever floats yer boat," but the best of all came from Andrew's mom.

Andrew and I more or less grew up together, having met in middle school, when I was in 8th grade and he in 6th. I don't really remember when we started hanging out or why his mom had such an intense dislike for me, but we did, and she did. His brother Seth and I got along just fine, from the first day we met, when he climbed out from under his decrepit Karmann Ghia, up to the elbows in grease, and chased me around the front yard demanding a hug. But Mrs. D? She was just not a fan of yours truly.

Shrouded in nearly as much mystery is the point in time when she decided that I wasn't so bad after all. One day after I'd graduated from college and Andrew was still away completing his undergrad, I ran into his mom at the pharmacy. I almost didn't recognize her since it'd been a while since I'd seen her, but she walked right up to me and gave me a great big hug. From that day forward, it was like we were old pals.

Cut to a year or so later. I'm about drive up to Richmond to visit Andrew, and he asks if I wouldn't mind stopping by his parents' house to pick up his cello and bring it to him. No problem. They live right around the corner from me. My hair is now purple and I've recently separated from my now-ex-husband. I pull into the driveway right behind Mrs. D and help her carry in her groceries, put them away, then am invited to sit and chat for a minute. She shows me some interior design elements she's added to the house and then goes to get the cello. It's not until I've got the cello in one hand and the doorknob in the other that she seems to notice that something's different about me.

She squints and says, "Oh, so you've done something new with your hair."
"Yeah," I said, "I just thought a change was due."
She nods and thinks for a moment before responding, "You know, my daughter did the same thing when she broke up with that boy she was seeing -" she pauses to lay a hand on my shoulder and look me deep in the eye before finishing, "-don't worry. It got better."

Ghost Reel

This is maybe a slightly less boring post than the one from earlier. Maybe. You be the judge.

While talking to Michael today about Halloween and the shortening of days, I remembered a poem that I once started to write. I'd jotted a few lines down after a class discussion I'd led in teaching Maxine Hong Kingston's The Woman Warrior: Memoirs of a Girlhood Among Ghosts to my 12th graders. In giving them some cultural background to prepare them for the story, one student quietly wondered what happened to the souls of the baby girls who never survived infancy, either killed or left to die of exposure as so many were in not-too-long-ago China. I didn't have much of an answer for him, in part because this was the same kid who once asked me if I thought hurricane Katrina was God's way of punishing all the gay people living in New Orleans, but that's another story.

Anyway, the notion stuck in my head, and since it came up in conversation today, I wrote a few more lines and since I had nothing more pressing I felt like doing, sketched an illustration to go with it. The result:


In case you can't read it, it goes (with a little editing, like ya do):

The law of the land said to leave them behind,
all the girl-babies, where no one would find
No one except for one all in white -
With her, their souls would find endless delight

A beautiful vision, with flowing moonlight hair
that swirled and curled and danced on the air,
She called to their spirits and drummed on her gong
to teach them the steps so they could dance along

What you'd see when her hair was lifted by the breeze,
A visage in bone, a sight to make your blood freeze.
Around her they dance, dressed all in red
The souls of the girls who don't know that they're dead.

Is she a monster who robs them of rest,
Or is she a mother who gives them the best?
To be sure, you and I would find her a fright,
But we're not tiny
and dead
and alone in the night.
***

Author's note: Incidentally, after reading all of this Green Lantern, I find this oddly similar to the character Karu-sil, with her long hair and scary face, but you know what they say about there being no truly original ideas...

In Blackest Day, In Tightest Tights...

You may or may not be aware that, for reasons not entirely clear even to me, I suddenly decided I'm reading comics again. I'm picking up things here and there as recommendations pique my interest, but mostly, it's all about Green Lantern and Blackest Night. This has turned out to be a pretty awesome endeavor. Not only am I really enjoying the books, but it's turned out to be a multi-media interactive extravaganza!

Todd, because he's awesome, sent me some black power rings upon learning that I didn't have one, and I shared them with Chip and Sam:

After setting that picture of myself as my userpic on Twitter, I got a direct message from Geoff Johns himself, saying, "nice ring!! ;)" The guys tell me that this is because being both a nerd and a girl gets me bumped to the front of the line, a gender bias they find most unfair.

To support this new Green Lantern habit (and because he's awesome), Michael sent me the new First Flight cartoon dvd, complete with bonus Duck Dodgers (IN THE 24 AND 1/2 CENTURYYYY!!) Green Loontern episode (I mean, how cool is that?!). My inner child reveleth big time.

Following this, I've really enjoyed the discussions about various aspects of the characters and storylines. Most of my questions are met with a resounding chorus of "just keep reading!" and of course, they're right, but I especially love that I know the kind of people who can have a conversation about comic books as literature and philosophy.

Join me on this adventure, won't you? It should still be pretty easy to find Blackest Night #1 (and maybe even #0 if you ask the folks at your Local Comic Shop reaaaaaallllly nicely!)!

I Love Surprises

...the good kind, anyway.  Not like when someone slams on the brakes in front of you in traffic or a bill auto-withdraws early.  I mean the kind where you check the mail and find

 

from Michael on Monday, when you know he only put it in the mail on Saturday, and especially when you're not 100% sure what it was going to be. 

This seems an ideal time to plug the show to which the pictured little red book is referring.  Go and bookmark http://www.fz6d.com, especially if you'll be in the LA area next May, so you can be sure to catch his adaptation of Richard Elfman's Forbidden Zone at the Sacred Fools theatre. 

Incidentally, the CD, which is unrelated to the play, is pretty bitchin if you like a little Elvis in your indie rock (and I do).

Mil gracias, Mikeycito.

Operation Half-Full

It was two months ago today that I posted that I had become a statistic - that is, one of the growing number of unemployed people taking over the country. It's too bad we're all so demoralized and bored, or maybe we could stage a coup.

What's changed since then? On the job front, sadly, not much. I thought I had one there for a couple of days last week, but it didn't work out. Don't ask me what happened; it's all very confusing. With this latest defeat and lots of other personal issues, it's been tough lately to keep my chin up. Let's talk about other things instead, though. Someone told me today that I'm good at having a glass-is-half-full perspective, so here we go as I try to make him proud & prove him right.

Today:

• I had dinner with Sam, who was passing through on her way south. This is particularly good because she's one of a very few people who know me and understand me so thoroughly that I never have to put on a false happy face or worry that she'll take everything I say the wrong way.
• My roommate told me that the crack in my windshield shouldn't prevent my car from passing inspection, since it's on the passenger side. I have to research this, but for today at least, I'm putting it in the "good things" column.
  
• I got an invitation in the mail from my friend Chip, to his police academy graduation. It's really awesome to see someone I care about fulfill a dream. I'm so proud of him and touched that my presence there is important to him.
• I've also been invited to join a group of people from Form & Function Festival for a meet/greet/dinner/funtime next month. I'm really excited to be getting to know some great people to work for things that matter.
• When I got bad news today, I didn't have to bear it alone. People were there for me, reminding me that no matter how bad it gets, I'll never look to my corner of the arena and find it empty.
  

In the past week:

• I did work 2 days, so that means a little bit of income.
• My post about the time I didn't recognize Dashboard Confessional earned me a nod from 30Threads and some pleasant conversation from Ginny, who also added me to their blogroll. That was nice.
• My friend the Music Fascist scored a couple of tickets to see the Rosebuds, Lost in the Trees, and Midtown Dickens at the Golden Belt in Durham. It was a really great show, full of positive energy, talented people, and quality music. The taco van out front also deserves a mention, as I'm certain those were the best tacos I've ever had. Many thanks to the MF for loaning me the $5 so I didn't have to walk the half mile to the nearest ATM.
• I visited friends and family in Virginia Beach.
• I learned that another friend got a new job and is really excited about it.
• I simultaneously decluttered my life a little and made a few people happy by shipping extraneous copies of CD's to friends. As glad as I am to have shelf space back, it brings me no end of joy that I can put a smile on a friend's face.
  

In the past month:

• I got to visit New York City, see the Toxic Avenger musical, do some window shopping with my mom, and spend a day with a friend who took a train down from Albany to see me.
• The MF and I went to the Odessa Records launch party, mostly to see The Kingsbury Manx, who rocked the Cradle as expected. Not only did the band play a great set, but I won the doorprize: a test-press of the new record, which I got the band to sign. The MF had introduced me to one of the guys in the band a few times, and I'd met him at CD Alley a couple of times, so when he told me he was really glad I was the one who'd won the record, I got a kick out of it. Oh, and at the party, there was really good cake.
• I had a birthday, and was spoiled rotten by my friends and family. Melissa designed & had printed a book of my poetry, a gift that really touched my heart. Elwood (in addition to the early unbirthday present a couple of months ago) sent me a mini-me, a Baroness doll, which is a gift most apropos from a toy master himself. My mom indulged my addiction to House, M.D. with season 1 on dvd. Chip always finds the perfect gift to make me feel like a kid again, and like it's cool to be a total nerd. And those are just the beginning, floating atop countless emails, text messages, tweets, and Facebook greetings, letting me know that I am loved.
• I did a guest blog at Pointless Banter.
  

And of course, the good people at Threadless remind us that there are some jobs out there that suck worse than unemployment: