Postcards: Zodiac (buzz)Killer

Dear Jennifer,

Hope you like this card.  It has to do with Zodiac and looks quite spooky!  Today’s my birthday.  My friends just left and we had a good time in the garden.  The weather is great here! (for now!)

Best wishes,

Ellen

The rising turmoil of Aries

The rising turmoil of Aries

Ellen,

Ah the turmoil and spooky in this card.  My last major boyfriend was an Aries actually.  He seems to.. be as chaotic as the imagery on here.

Maybe it’s a sign of what I left behind as I moved forward and on.. to a Sagittarius.  Or maybe it means something else… a new version of messed up?

Ah well, I already knew I was a bit emotionally masochistic anyway.

Here’s hoping for the best though.  I kind of really like this current one a bit… maybe.  But that’s a secret 😉

Cheers,

Js.

This is not the only card that I have received from Postcrossing that has hit a special tone with me.  I am due to potentially see the grip tonight at some festivities.  My accomplice for the evening?  You guessed it, The Mr.

While I do not believe that there will be any issue tonight, I am hoping, praying if you will, that I this card is not a sign of the potential that there could be.

I am glowing when I am with this man.  I am glowing at the thought of this man.  Even if it’s nothing.  I just know that whatever it is between us, undefined but great in its form, I just don’t want any problems with it.  Here’s hoping this card truly was just a sign that I am better off where I am than where I once was with that previous relationship.  I firmly believe that’s all it is.

I really need to stop worrying so damn much.

Bam! Yet ANOTHER project

As some of you may know, I attended Comic Con a few weeks ago.  What many of you do not know is that my background in video games is only proceeded by comic books.

Growing up, my family, in particular my father, has had a love for books.  Dad would hand me books since before I could read.  He told me tales of fantasy and these larger than life characters.  My mother never understood this aspect.  I truly believe dad may have been doing it partially to piss her off.

They are now divorced and happier.  She lives in Illinois still with her new husband.  Dad lives in suburbia Los Angeles in the dreaded 909.

The comic books that I collected growing up are currently stored in a trunk in a garage at my mother’s home.  I am actually quite amazed that they are still there, regardless of whichever condition that they may be in.  You see, my mother burned the baseball cards I collected at the time.

Dad’s house is like another world entirely.  Everywhere you look is traces of his fixation with comic books.  He has a full bedroom for my son that is nothing but Spiderman.  Dad is a big kid at heart.  He frequents comic shops weekly.  He raised me on books like Tales from the Crypt, Batman, and Spiderman.

Uncle Jay & I in my sons Spiderman Room

Uncle Jay & I in my son's Spiderman Room

Despite my recent cosplay endeavor, I wasn’t always a Supergirl fan.  Dad wasn’t interested in Superman.  It seems that you are either a Batman fan or a Superman fan.  We were the former.  The new Detective Comics featuring Batwoman are currently in my monthly “must pick up list.”  Superman still has of yet to make a regular home for me.

However even back then I really didn’t partake as much from the mainstream comic book lines.  There has always been a draw for me to the artistically popping, underdogs of indie comic books.  Maybe that’s why I was rebellious growing up.  Maybe that’s why, to a degree, I still am.  It feels awesome to be a cliche.

After the convention I began to re-evaluate where my passions were.  While I do love video games, I have found that the community within the comic book industry has some very important things to offer me that, well video games really don’t for me- timelessness and a foundation in encouraging literacy and imagination in its execution.

I found myself looking back.  At my own childhood.  Of sitting on shoulders with loose teeth as my dad pointed to superheroes on comic books.

In present day, I have passed these things to my children as well.  I encourage my son to read comic books.  And, while he may go with his grandfather and read those mainstream books, he also reads indies with his mother.

my son reading The Edge a story within Volume 3 of the comic Flight

my son reading "The Edge" a story within Volume 3 of the comic "Flight"

I realized that I had not been completely true to myself.  Perhaps part of the reason why I never felt at ease or why it didn’t just all fall into place was that.  I was denying myself the potential to reach further.

When I went to Comic Con, I was representing Girls Entertainment Network.  And while I am thankful for the opportunity I had to work with them, I have come to realize that I have a different vision for how I would like to proceed with my venture into comic book journalism.

Approximately 2 years ago I purchased a series of domains for various projects that I was considering.  I had been mulling over the thought about a comic book site for some time but never made the jump into it.

I went to a movie showing of the 1943 rare Batman serial and an exhibit this weekend on the Golden Age of comic books over at the Skirball Cultural Center.  It reminded me so much about what we, as a culture, have lost, what we have gained, and what remains the same though it may have a different face.

It was profound and moving with its subtleties and brash overtones.

The time has come.  The past doesn’t always have to be so scary.  Neither does the future.  It’s time they shook hands.

I will continue to write freelance for comic book realted sites, but am also gathering steam for what I need to make a website that I believe will be something I am proud of.  Please stay tuned for further information about my site: Superficially Iconic: “a site for comic book intellectuals.. and everyone else too.”

The skys the limit oh dear Superfriend of mine.

The sky's the limit oh dear Superfriend of mine.

See you at Long Beach Comic Con.  And now I have to get ready for a superhero birthday party… Marvel turned the big seven-oh today don’t you know?

Letting go: Material Immaterial

This weekend was phenomenal.  It was also quite frightening for a few hours.

I tend to over worry about things sometimes.  I’ve been working my fingers to the brim.  I’ve been toiling hours away at an idea… at many ideas… at pushing to making those things happening and preparing for some major presentations to debut them.

I am a perfectionist.  I want to do everything just right.  I am hesitant to announce something unless I have already invested considerable time and effort into it.

As some of you may know, I am midst work on a documentary project entiteled Muse for Hire. The name is shared by an umbrella of projects, including my previously unnamed copy writing services (inquire within) as well as a web series project I am working on that came about as the documentary started filming.

But that’s another story.

My camcorder has become an integral extension of me.  The amount of time and devotion I have to the projects and thus the attachment to one small Flip Mino that I purchased for the project, is quite… it’s one material possession I would be upset if it was lost.

This weekend that nearly happened.

So what do you do when something you have such an attachment to disappears?  You freak of course.  I was no different.

Friday night started off a bit rough.  I’d been working on some other projects and not gotten much sleep.  Little things got to me a bit more than usual.  This time it was some comments made out of context in reference to a certain Mr that I am…

“She made some good points though.  I’m a little afraid of how I’m potentially presenting myself here.  I mean, what if she’s right?”

“Calm down.  I’ve seen you two together.  I don’t know the guy but it’s likely nothing and you know it.  What are you referring to exactly though?  Explain.” Mo replied in attempt to get me to calm down a little.

“I’m sure its not but… well, what are you doing tonight?  Let’s go see a movie.  It’d give a better idea of what I mean.”

“I’m not sure I can.  I’m supposed to go out tonight later.”

“Please…”

“Get dressed and come by work.  We can figure out the details and catch an early show.”

I got dressed and headed out.  We talked outside his work for awhile before deciding to get some coffee at a local Starbucks.

Between the caffeine and conversation, I quickly calmed down.  I wasn’t super stressed about it before but sitting at home racking my brain only added to it’s nonsense- and potentially true statements.  Only time will tell.  Assumptions and worrying about it will only get me wrinkles anyway, and I’ll pass on the botox treatments thank you very much.

Conversation changed over to a friend of mine that I thought Mo might like.  I texted her to ask what she was up to.  She was at a bar near me.  I dropped Mo off and went to my place to change into more suitable attire.  He picked me up a little bit later.

“Thank you.  Have a good night.” I received as a reply to a text I’d sent hours prior to him.  Ah the wonders of two super busy people something something. It was something so tiny but it made me glow and calm down even more so.

We arrived at quarter after eleven.  It was her birthday and she was with a group of people.  We headed up to the upstairs portion of the bar.  There are couches along the wall and the perimeter.  We sat down at some with the party.  Such a wonderful group of great people… new friends and old.

The guys were too chicken to approach me.  I cared nothing about them.  I felt the heat of stares and caught people blushing and looking away.  I felt unbelievably confident that night.  I approached men and brought them to the group.  I made sure my best friend wasn’t bored.  We had a great time and I behaved.  It was quite…

At one point my purse was knocked off the couch accidentally.  I’d thought that I had everything when I picked it up, but we didn’t dive into the cushions nor reach very far back behind or under them.  ( You can probably see where this is going.)

The club closed down and we were ushered out.  We talked outside the club.  At this point I realize that something is a bit off.  I’m not sure where my camcorder is.  I dumped my purse out onto the sidewalk.  It wasn’t there.

I freaked.  I can’t afford a new camcorder right now.  But it was more than just that.  While there was quite a bit on there that I hadn’t been able to take off from Comic Con just yet, there was one clip that was pretty important to me.  You see, the thing about filming a documentary is that while you may have a ton of content as you are you are working on it, there are just some moments where you know when they happen that they will be in the finished product.  This was one of them.

I was upset when we left that night.  I knew that I had to be there in the morning to try and get it back.  I was hoping for good karmic retribution.  I knew that there was a chance it might not happen.

And then I thought about it more.

Even after I freaked and worried… I remembered a conversation that bid me to do some reflection I had a long time ago.

“There are some things that are meant to be legendary.”

While the moment I filmed recently will forever be permeated in my mind, regardless if it worked out or not (please let it work though), regardless if I had gotten the camcorder back or not, it didn’t change that simple fact: I’m thankful that it happened because it was legendary.

I accepted that if the camcorder did not return to me that it was simply not meant to be- the moment being in the documentary that is.

We, as a culture of Americans, build up this attachment to silly possessions so easily.  While they may be founded in passion or emotional connection, the possession itself is relatively worthless.  It’s just “great junk” essentially.

And while, yes I did get my camcorder back the next day, I feel amazing.  I know now that I can let go of everything and be alright.  Material stuff is fun to have.  It fuels my art.  But even if I don’t have it, it doesn’t change what I am at the end of the day in the simplest terms: an artist.

So here’s to letting go and letting life happen a bit more each day.  Material is immaterial.

I’m thankful I learned these lessons.  But I will also admit, that it does make me glow a bit knowing that that piece was supposed to be in this documentary project.  It is one moment captured in film in shadows and lights that’s…  well see for yourself, but you have to pay attention…

Parables: The power in simplicity

There was not a moon hung in the sky that night as the friends made their way to the evening’s festivities.  Blurred wavelengths of color mark the streets as they weave in and out of traffic.  Like a painter gracefully presses their brush along a canvas, this is their dance.  It is their silent impact.  It is their passion and fervor embracing their fast past turning world.

I

was

here.

If only for a moment.

If only for these moments.

Plates and silverware clink amidst the roars and hushes of chatter at a local spot by the beach.  The pair break through the sound and enter.  They are eager for this time of relaxation and the company of friends.

It is like every cliche night in Los Angeles.  Even when business is over for the day, it is still business as usual.  If anything, it is the kind of night where the most business happens just as much as it is about relaxing.

We sat there and ate cake and drank a few rounds.  We smiled.  We laughed.  Everyone was enjoying the company.  Everyone was enjoying the chatter.

A drink sits lonesome by at the end of the table.

“Whose is this?”

“He’s coming to join us.”

A man in black with an apron slung around his waist approaches the table.

“It will be about 15 minutes before I am done with my shift.  I have to do some paperwork.  I’ll be right over.”

“Come have your drink.”  the group insists.

“Not yet.  I’m on the clock and I have my integrity.”

The drink glows in the moonlight and sings its own silent overture to the starless sky above them.

He finished his shift and pulled a chair over.  The party was not complete for the evening.  However, this is the point when it started to get more real.  Every single other person on there was highly involved within a specific scene, even if their places in line were not the same.  The server was the odd person out in the group.

I asked him simple questions.

Icebreakers.

I wanted to make sure he felt fully included.

“Where did you work before this job?  Is this the job that you would like to have or are you an actor?”

It was very cliché.  I was very… rude actually.

“I lived in Vermont.” he said.

“But what did you do there exactly?” I asked him again.

He stated to tell his story.  He was trying so hard to belong to the group.

“I was working in computers.”

“But what in computers?”

The table echoed with questions pertaining to various fields.

“I was working a help desk.”

More questions as to specifics.

In a way, I felt bad.  Not because of his answers.  Not because But because we were so to the T about his responses yet the majority of us are entrepreneurs.  Our work and dreams are similar to this man’s, even if they aren’t always the same.

He turned the discussion to the rest of the table.  One by one, like an AA meeting, we all spoke about our jobs and stated our names.

Entrepreneur.  PR. Consulting. Etcetera.

The flashlight came my way and I failed.  As I have so many hats on currently, what I didn’t say was what I knew the most.  I had spoken a lot about both but also relatively little, even if I had been verbose.  Succinctly there were only two answers that should have been said.

“I  am a writer.  Sometimes it’s for money.  Sometimes it’s not.  But it’s always with heart.”

Transpose the word artist for writer and have the same answer.

Sometimes things shouldn’t have to be so wordy or complex.  There is so much complexity in the purity.  But only if you look inwardly for it and only if you listen.  I have learned that being dynamic is like constantly being on stage.  You have to be bold.  You have to be brazen.  You have to be fully aware of what you are.

You have to…

You have to…

You have to….

“I  am an artist.  Sometimes it’s for money.  Sometimes it’s not.  But it’s always with my heart- fully open and susceptible to being broken and put back together again and again in every single thing that I do.”

Because that is who I am and that’s what I am proud of.  Every.  Single.  Day.

2 Choices

Dear Hannibal,

Dad always said that I do things the hard way.  And you know what?  He’s right.. to an extent.

I am going to take both choices of advice you gave me… both of which, actually turn into the hard route.  Or maybe it’s not.  Maybe…. just maybe… it’s both.

Thank you sir.

Time and perseverance.

It’s going to be a fight all the way through.  But from me, you may or may not have known I was going to do that.

Cheers,

Scandalous

Prose: Untitled focus

“Enjoy the concert.  Here’s hoping this guy makes you smile.” he said as I was preparing to leave.

A text message from another world came in… what he didn’t know, was that I was already glowing.

“I don’t need a dude to have a good time.”  I told him.

And I didn’t.

And I don’t.

I realized that anything above and beyond that, regardless if worked out or not, was just a bonus.

It has taken me a long time to get here, but I’ve finally arrived.

This is who I am.

This is who I want to be.

It’s nice to meet

… me.

My eyes are open.

My heart is as well.

Love is a battlefield.  You don’t have to retreat but you have to keep your shield up, even if it is a weapon as the Spartans say.

I am prepared to be the person I have always wanted to be…

I am prepared to learn the lessons and experience the pain and the levity without prejudice.

Because that is how you get stronger.

Because that is how you progress.

With a concrete squishy heart…

With eyes wide open…

I know that anything is possible.

Brutal honesty: Unhappiness in the military

DISCLAIMER: As a note to all my friends and to people all over the world within the military, this blog is not to belittle your efforts, dedication, hard work or jobs.  I know that there is so much that you do than what is in the focus of this blog.  This is to those lost souls that have turned to the military to complete themselves rather than a foundation based in patriotism.

On one gaming forum that I belong to, I’ve made a few friends-people that have both helped me through hard times as well as touched me through their laughter, stories, and support.  This is the story of one of them.

His name is Hazard Cheif and he’s a pathological liar.  At first, I just thought he was kidding around.  Then the lies got bigger… mafia, car races, cheating girlfriends (ok that one could have been true), boats, yadda yadda yadda.

Sometimes it was funny.  I mean, it felt like a game to a degree.  But over time it became less and less funny.  As a friend, quite frankly I hoped that he would get past this stage in his life and start on the path to finding himself.  Given that I have been on this road (looking to find myself not the pathological lying bit), I distanced myself.  I never really disappeared but I also wasn’t there all of the time.

Once in awhile he will message me.  We will have a bit of loose conversation and then back to poof.

Last night was one of those nights…

(11:44:22 PM) supernerdlady: are you done with the pathological lying yet?
(11:44:33 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : ha yes actually
(11:44:42 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : i’ve left it behind me
(11:44:49 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : along with alot of people
(11:44:58 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : im in the US Navy now

Conversation continued more as I asked him about postcards. He said that he was stationed stateside and had not yet been deployed but would send some when he was.  And then he started to mention that he was actually looking forward to deployment…

(11:47:35 PM) supernerdlady: thats not something to look forward to
(11:49:36 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : i’ve never left the US
(11:49:59 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : it’ll be a chance to see new cultures learn new things meet new people
(11:51:55 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : other than that shit life has actually kinda sucked

It was abundantly clear that he’d joined the service in an attempt to get away from reality rather than face his issues.  As a good friend, I didn’t pander to his statements where he tried to rationalize his choice…

(11:53:33 PM) supernerdlady: escaping doesnt solve anything
(11:53:42 PM) supernerdlady: but thats one thing the service is good for i guess
(11:53:55 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : yea i guess.
(11:54:00 PM) supernerdlady: you dont need to focus on yourself bc you can just do what they tell you
(11:54:03 PM) supernerdlady: be how they tell you
(11:54:36 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : i’ve already been in for a year and 3 months, and i feel like i havent really done anything with my life thats really of any importance
(11:54:57 PM) supernerdlady: what dictates whats important or not?
(11:55:11 PM) supernerdlady: did you learn anything in that time?
(11:56:00 PM) HaZaRd Cheif : i learned…. heh, how to iron military creases in my uniforms, alot about the UCMJ, and that i despise marines… ha

Now before you start with the hate mail, as I stated in the disclaimer above, I will reiterate that this blog is not to belittle your (anyone within the military or friends of someone within the service’s) efforts, dedication, hard work or jobs.  I know that there is so much that you do than what is in the focus of this blog.  This is to those lost souls that have turned to the military to complete themselves rather than a foundation based in patriotism.

He was unhappy and didn’t see just how unhappy he was, or rather, he didn’t know how to.  And then, it happened.  The beginning of the potential end of our friendship…

(12:15:50 AM) supernerdlady: at least its a steady paycheck
(12:15:54 AM) supernerdlady: thats more than i have
(12:16:24 AM) HaZaRd Cheif : yea
(12:16:40 AM) HaZaRd Cheif : id trade the paycheck for happiness anyday

Tick, tick boom.

That was it for me.  I told him flat out what I thought about his statement, and it was not pretty.  It’s so not pretty that I am not going to post it. But here’s a summation of how it went:

I told him that I “would take my poor, artistic, extremely happy but not always perfect or stable paycheck existence over a life like what he was living- without decision making or happiness over his any day.”  I wished him the best of luck to find whatever it is that he is looking for and that the only person that could save him was himself.

It was harsh, brutal honesty.  I let him go.  I meant what I said.  I felt really bad about it.  I know he’s not the only person going through this… so many others like him are experiencing this same pain.  Why doesn’t anyone do anything for these men and women?  Is a future with your own voice really that bad?  In the process of giving someone something they can be confident and successful in with moving up ranks and encouragement, we walk away from what really matters: that same application inwardly.

Mr Hazardous Chief, tread safe out there.  I hope you find the beacon to guide you home safely soon.

The Hitchhiker’s Guide to Comic-Con

As some of you may or may not know, I actually semi “hitchhiked” my way to Comic Con this year.   I found it only suiting that I write a “survival” guide on my adventure to Comic/Video Game/Movieland last weekend.  Here’s a snippet in video blog format where I interviewed con goer Aaron and he let me look at some of the amazing sketches he was able to get from the artists there.

For a full, more in depth list of my tips and things learned while at the Con, you can look over at the article I wrote for Girls Entertainment Network.  I hope you enjoy them both as much as I… had the fun of learning some of them the hard way.