The Comic Books

Zombies were my biggest fear in my teens and early twenties. I would lie awake and imagine my world crumbling under the corruption of death. My recurring nightmares were always of me running away from a hoard of biters who had once been my family. I’d imagine zombies in the woods when I went upstate, I’d imagine zombies in basements, at work, at school, at home, etc. I’d shut my eyes and wrap my arms around the nearest friend/boyfriend and have them tell me over and over that it was all OK, there were no zombies to be worried about... all that stuff. 

Two years ago, if you were to tell me that I would be buying 75 dollars worth of comic books about Zombies, I would have given you the weirdest look and told you that I didn’t read comics and I especially didn’t read about Zombies. Yet, here I am in 2012 devouring book after book of “The Walking Dead.”

It’s funny to me now that I can sit and read about the terrible plight of these characters I’ve grown to admire and fear in this series. I’ve never considered myself a comic book reader, or even a person who could read comics without getting a head ache. I used to look at the nerdy kids in high school and college as they drooled over their Batman books and exchanged excited glances as they read during lunch break. That sort of entertainment never meant anything to me. I was too busy reading Lord Of The Rings or Harry Potter to really care about the Avengers or Superman. 

I felt the first inkling of curiosity for graphic novels when the Movie “The Watchmen” came out. I wasn’t particularly enamored with the movie itself, but I was fascinated by the world those characters lived in. Could that be a stuffing for the hole left behind after LoTR ended? Yes. I read “The Watchmen” graphic novel and enjoyed it, much to my surprise. 

I guess the summary of what I’ve come to discover is that not very deep inside of me exists a nerd of epic proportions that seems to grow stronger and more courageous each year, now to the point where, in a conversation with my room mate as to the best way to survive a zombie attack here at home, I calmly explained that according to the “Zombie Survival Guide” by Max Brooks, Zombies have very poor coordination and can’t climb stairs easily. Therefore we have an advantage being up by the roof and could therefore escape through the window so long as neither of us was bitten. My room mate looked at me for a minute before laughing and declared that I was: “such a nerd.” 

It was a proud moment. I’ve come a long way.

An Argument With Myself

Me 1: Stop grabbing at your stomach and looking in the mirror! You have more important things to think about other than how fat you think you look.

Me 2: Oh but I used to be so skinny...

Me 1: You didn’t think so then either. 

Me 2: No! No, I did...

1: Nope. You constantly looked at your stomach in the mirrors back then, too. Be nice to yourself.

2: But, I am the heaviest I have ever been. I feel so fat and blobby. Look at how my belly barely fits into these shorts I used to wear in High School.

1: So then don’t wear those shorts.

2: But, imagine if I could! I would be pretty skinny.

1: You wouldn’t think so, you’d just wish you were another size smaller until you just shrank into a tiny, bony, ain’t-no-one-will-fuck-you-cause-they-can’t-find-you body. Look at how beautiful you are! You’re gorgeous!

2: One eye is bigger than the other. 

1: Oh man. That’s it. Walk away from the mirror. Walk away RIGHT NOW. I’m hungry.

2: I’m not. Nope. In fact, I kinda like that I haven’t eaten anything but a bowl of yogurt today. It makes me feel like I’ve accomplished something.

1: You accomplished being hungry. 

2: Barely any calories! If I ate like this for the next few days, I’d lose a TON of weight!

1: YOU DON’T NEED TO LOSE WEIGHT! 

2: Oh, you’re just saying that to make me feel better. But I look at the girls on TV, and the one’s in the magazines, the ones who have no belly fat, like: they bend over and there is no roll, no nothing. They squeeze their tiny butts into cute shorts or sexy pants and walk around without having to worry about gross muffin-tops or any kind of jiggle. They’re the essence of beauty, and if I want to be in big motion pictures and be a famous, well respected actress, I’ll need to do that. I’ll need to be that skinny, to the point where my ribs stick out and I don’t need a bra to hold my non-existant tits. 

1: You’d be so gross. I wouldn’t want to be around you. No one likes those girls. 

2: Brad Pitt does. 

1: Brad Pitt is a weirdo.

2: Yeah, he is. 

1: Just continue being healthy, my love. 

2: But I can’t stop feeling like people won’t want me because of how nasty my belly fat is when I sit down! 

1: They don’t notice that, love. They’re there because of your smile and your personality and your ability to make people laugh. They’re there because of who you are. And you’re beautiful. Special. Wonderful. 

2: Oh. You make me feel so good. Why can’t you make me feel this good all the time?

1: Just remember how lucky and wonderful you are, that’s all it takes. Everyone should remember how lucky and wonderful they are more. I think that way we could celebrate how individual and beautiful we all are. 

....Now go eat something. 

2: Okay. I’m gonna make myself that peanut butter and chocolate sandwich I’ve been craving all day and just feel guilty about it later. 

1: Oy...

The Proposal

"...And I just want to say that I want to spend the rest of my life doing that with you." He concluded his monologue, as in slow-mo he hopped down from the podium he'd been standing on, walked up to his Girlfriend and proposed in front of a room full of audience members who had just finished watching the show for the evening. The room went silent, except for the occasional sob, as the Man got down on one knee and asked if She'd marry him. A small "Yes" boomed through the room as everyone erupted into applause. The happy couple embraced and kissed as the band struck a chord and played a love song.

I felt the unbidden tears roll down my cheek as I tried very hard to choke back a sob. That was such a beautiful moment to witness. I felt so unbelievably overwhelmed by how simple and lovely that honesty and courage was, and how it brought the entire room to silence. I tried to reflect on any other time I had seen a live proposal and couldn't think of any. That was my first one.

I wished that the girl getting kissed and hugged, covered in happy tears: was me. I wished beyond reason that I'd get a call, or a text or an e-mail or that somehow a guy from my past/present/future would come running into the room and, seeing me, come running up and grab me, bundling me up into an embrace before all to see and then tell me the same things I had heard come out of that other guy's mouth. He loved her. He wasn't afraid to tell an entire room. He wasn't afraid of what he felt for her, in fact, he embraced it head on!

I looked around the room at the other teary-eyed girls brushing the salty water from their faces and laughing with embarrassed giggles at how they had all individually "lost it" watching that pure moment of love and happiness. I smiled and laughed along with them. "Yeah, wasn't that funny? I lost it, too! Haha!"

It wasn't until I was on the train coming home later that night, when I buried my head in my hands and had a quick sob, did I realize how impossible that moment seemed for me. That was a fairy tale. A blunder, right? A wish that a young girl dreams of as she falls asleep, imagining her prince charming. Yet, there it was: right before me, happening in real time. It happens. I breathed deep and followed the dance song I had blasting in my ears to help drown out the hopelessness I was feeling. Everyone is different, and everyone has a different sunset they ride off into, that's all... It's not a matter of hopelessness, just patience and a determination to keep doing what makes me happiest in the meantime.

Awkward Friend(relation)ship?

Oh, Fuck.

I just said something that really hurt you, and I really said it unintentionally! I promise!

Oy. Sorry. Sorry. Sorry. But, I won't say sorry, I'll just back peddle and try to compliment you a lot.

Does that feel better?

Can you tell I feel bad for making you feel bad without saying that I feel bad for making you feel bad out loud?

Complicated. Yes. Like our relationship, No?

Are we emotionally invested in each other more than what the standard opposite-sex friendship should be?
-----> I refuse to believe that we are (even though I know that we are).

Just stay away from me, ok? I'm going to unintentionally hurt you again by telling you about the guy I went out for dinner with, or what my Ex did recently or how I want to see that movie you want to see, but I want to see it with my sister, instead.

No, I'm too busy to hang out this week. Too busy to get dinner. Too busy to do anything, really!

Oh, Fuck.

I am so sorry.

I can't sort out my feelings about you, and you'll just have to forgive me for that, because frankly: I don't want to lose your place in my life because it gives me a sense of worth that is entirely selfish sometimes. Oh, and there are qualities about you that I find irresistibly attractive, and yet I cannot get over my fear of ruining our friendship if, once I've decided that I will sleep with you, I am no longer attracted to you anymore and I don't actually ever want to see you again because I'm reminded of how I feel horribly guilty about "trying you out" and then deciding that you were not what I wanted. And, I think you're in love with me, but not really me, because (apparently) I can be very different in "relationship" mode, and you're really close to me, so maybe that's not who you really want and that's a lot of pressure!

There. I said all of that with my eyes. And you know me so well, I'll bet you picked up on that.

I need more girlfriends.

Negativity

The dark and negative side of things suck.

I consider myself a glass half-full person, so when I find myself pulled into a fighting match where I beat myself up in my head, I have to realize that that is not who I define myself as: that it is a temporary cloud burst which will eventually rain itself out.

Sometimes it can be a gorgeous day out, like today, with a small warm summer breeze pushing a few wisps of hair around, and a blue clear sky with a bright hot sun. I could be walking down a street admiring some grass in the cracks of the sidewalk when suddenly: the Dark creeps in. The Dark rolls over the blue clear day and tells me nasty things I don't want to think about. Why? Where does that come from?

I think that the Dark and Negative is a form of protection, honestly. The mean, negative thoughts can be a way to take my mind off of really thinking on something I don't want to think on, right?

Sometimes I meet people who seem to be in a perpetual twilight. Their sun only comes out occasionally, and even then doesn't seem to warm them up and help them grow to be the person they could be happiest being. Sometimes even being around those people brings on clouds of my own and I can find myself lacking the necessary "Vitamin D" to help my mind grow and stay healthy. Those people are tough for me to stay around for any length of time.

Not to dismiss sadness, anger, or frustration as bad places to be. There are times when I just need to be sad or angry. There are times when I purposefully call up to my sky and push the clouds in front of my sun and cry and feel really good about doing so. That's not what I call "The Dark." The Dark is when I'm not even aware of how negative I feel until I look down at my fingers and realize I'd been biting them the last few minutes, or when I get interrupted from thought to realize, in the echoes of the disappearing meanness, that I was calling myself names I would never allow anyone to call me. Why would I ever call myself those names, then?

We are our own worst enemies. We are the only thing keeping us from being the best version of ourselves, aren't we? I am thoroughly convinced that the people who are the best at what they do, are not the best at what they do, they just thoroughly and without any apologies believe that they are doing the best they can and that they believe that without any hint of hesitation.

I am working hard to be the best I can be, by forgiving myself when I am not.

Reflective Walk

I walked past the houses lined up along the promenade at 2:30am. I was the only person on the street. I had just walked inland from the beach where I had been hanging out with the last visitors of the HUGE party my family threw last weekend called the Hoover Hootenanny. I was walking back to my great Aunt's house on the Jersey Shore.

There was no one else awake, let alone out on the street. I looked with long indulgent stares at the cookie cutter Victorian architecture that passed me as I moseyed over to the house.

The sky was black, no stars.

The air was still, no wind.

The neighborhood was silent, no sound.

I felt wholly and completely alone, and yet not sad. Just thoughtful and reflective and overall excited about being on the Jersey Shore and away from New York for a night.

A lot has happened this past week, no boredom.

Oh, Summer. You rock.

My One-Year-Old

Today marks the one year anniversary of my blog!

Thank you, thank you. Yes, it's been quite the year, really. If one were to quantify this all in terms of men passing in, passing through, and passing out there wouldn't be a whole lot to this blog. I feel really happy with where my mind has expanded and explored in terms of what life in New York has thrown at me. Gone are the days of online dating, gone are the long bloated silences between entries in which I felt as if I had nothing poignant to say. Here are the plethora of entries, one parading on the heels of the next as each day seems to come with its own package of wonder and beauty and excitement.

Thank you for reading and sharing and responding. I've now officially reached over 5,000 hits (Yay!) and I'm growing every day from the readers I have in Russia, England, China, Australia, Germany, Canada, Spain, the US and Brazil. I hope to have more people I can share my thoughts with, because that really is a gift to me to be able to do.

Here's to growth! Here's to a really satisfying way of documenting my 20's! And here's to you: my readers! Without you, I wouldn't write publicly, I would just continue to fill up journals with thoughts that wouldn't get shared and by sharing them I feel bolder and stronger and far smarter.

Much love, you wonderful, fantastic readers. Here's to another full year!