I sometimes wonder...

It has officially been One of Those Weeks, except it's really been more like two weeks, but whatever. The world is going haywire, and I was having a hard enough time keeping myself together without that, thanks very much, but things happen whether you want them to or not, and here we are.

I'm doing the best I can with what I have. That's all anyone can do, really. I had to get some of the Feelings-With-A-Capital-F out of my system, this is how they manifested, and now you get to read it.

Or not. It's completely up to you.

There is a lot of shit happening right now. I hope that all of you are well and content and looking after yourselves, each other, and, if you have the bandwidth, looking after anyone else who needs it right now.

This is me giving you your preferred type of well wishes. <3 <3 <3



Wonder

I sometimes wonder
what it would be like to know that feeling where you can fall,
 
and trust you’ll be caught.


I sometimes wonder,
because isn’t that supposed to be something we all have
at some point
or another
from someone
or another?
Or is it maybe something made up?
Some Hollywood construct that if you don’t have, you pretend you do,
because you’re supposed to, and if you don’t,

you’re wrong?


I sometimes wonder
what belonging to someone feels like.
Is it that pins-and-needles feeling washing through your soul in a wave
and soothing all your broken places?
Is it calm?
Or is it chaotic, like a dust devil or a maelstrom or a basket full of puppies?

Does it hurt?


I sometimes wonder
if it’s true that everyone ceases to exist when I can’t see them anymore.

It would explain the emptiness.


I sometimes wonder
if maybe
I might be part inflatable clown.
The kind you punch and it pops back up
again
and again
and again

because it has no choice in the matter.


I sometimes wonder
how long it’s going to be until my ribbon breaks.
The one that hangs off my ankle,
keeping me tied down but not grounded;
because touching down means opening up
and the blacktop sits at a permanent 200 degrees.

It’s hard to land when you’re afraid of getting burned.


I sometimes wonder
when I’ll stop flying.
Falling is an option, but it’s also a death sentence.
If my ribbon breaks, falling and floating away become the same thing.
I’m tired of flying because I have to.

What is that ribbon even attached to, anyway?


I sometimes wonder
what would happen if someone reeled me in by my ribbon.
If I was too afraid to come all the way would they let me sit on their shoulders
until I was ready
to stand on their feet
until I was ready
to feel the ground?
 
Or is that asking too much?


I sometimes wonder
lots of things,

but I rarely get any answers.

Here's where you get to point and call "NERD!"

Last Saturday, I went to San Francisco Comic Con.

::waits::

Are you done? Did you get it all out of your system? Good. Moving on.

Sadly, I missed the con last year because they used to hold it Labor Day weekend and I was out of town, but I get the feeling that enough people complained and this year they changed the weekend — hooray! On a scale of one-day-comic-shop-indie-con to San Diego Comic Con, San Francisco probably sits just south of medium. It’s big enough, though, for someone like me to only be able to manage one day. (Crowds and noise are not my friends.)

For those of you who have never been, a comic book convention is basically an enormous gathering of individuals sharing an interest in comics and related media and enjoying a day or weekend of activities surrounding said interest. Cons hold different appeal for different people. Some people love cosplay and enter the competitions and fashion shows. Some people are strictly there to dig through the stacks brought by comic book vendors in an attempt to find the elusive ‘Hedgehog Boy #67, Hedgehog Boy vs. Porcupine Girl, the Wedding Issue!’ Some people go for the gaming, be it video or tabletop or some other format. Some people go because their favorite celebrities are slated for appearances.

Some people go because their partners or kids love this kind of thing and because they love their partners and kids they are willing to brave the masses. You can always spot these people — they’re the ones standing off to the side, smiling indulgently and carrying numerous bags of their partner’s or kids’ purchases.

Personally, I love panel discussions — they’re a lot like college lectures, except, you know, interesting*. Cons will publish their event schedules ahead of the event itself which offers retentively organized types like me the opportunity to pre-plan their entire day. I had a spreadsheet.

Shut up.

I could give you a blow-by-blow of ‘How I Spent My Comic Con’, but I think we’ll just cover some highlights, hmm? I had two stand-out favorite panels this year, the first of which was entitled ‘Kaiju Law’, and the blurb read:

Who is financially responsible for Acts of Godzilla? Is King Kong protected by the Endangered
Species Act? Does Gamera have a duty to rescue children? Join us for When Monsters Attack
as our panel of attorneys and Kaiju do battle over Carl Denham's liability for Kong's rampage
across New York, whether the United States has a treaty obligation to defend Japan from
Godzilla, and whether any companies could be responsible for Hedorah clean-up costs.

It was presented by actual, real-life attorneys, and the recording can be found HERE. I won’t spoil it for you in case you decide to listen, but the gist of it is that if you import a gigantic ape from some island far away it is considered an invasive species and therefore not covered by the Endangered Species Act, the importer becomes responsible for any blondes it may or may not toss out of windows, and in the event of an enormous-radioactive-lizard-created tsunami your flood insurance will cover you, but you’re probably not covered for house-destruction-by-large-scaly-feet.

Keeping in the theme of ‘applying real-life constructs to comics’, my other favorite panel was Criminal Psychology: Arkham Case Studies, where we discussed Dr. Harleen Quinzel’s transformation into Harley Quinn as a result of vicarious traumatization from her time treating the Joker, and how intent negates an insanity plea because it indicates that at some point, the perpetrator knew that their actions were illegal. So basically, if you slaughter a bunch of people, don’t hide the evidence and then try to claim that you didn’t know what you were doing.

Those were the high points. I went to a couple of other panels and a couple of comedy shows and bought a ton of Blackhawk comics (because somehow I accidentally ended up collecting them a couple of years ago and now I feel compelled to get hold of all of them.)

You know, if you had told me ten years ago that I’d not only go to a comic book convention, but also manage to find something to enjoy about it, I’d have told you that you were cut off and taken away your car keys. And yet, here we are. If you’re skeptical, I encourage you to do a little research — there’s so much more to the comic book scene than superheroes. I guarantee you can find something that feeds an interest for you.

Who knows? Maybe you’ll find a series or writer or artist you like enough to make you consider a convention when you find out they’ll be at one near you.

Never say never.



*I’m talking about the giant gen-ed lectures where you’re herded into a lecture hall with 378 of your closest friends, not the classes you actually wanted to take. I could happily have listened to my Shakespeare professor witter on for ages about scansion. In fact, I did. And this is a man who, in that same class, hit me.**

**That doesn’t read well out of context. I assure you it was appropriate at the time. Maybe I’ll write about it at some point.

I don't always write topical posts, but when I do, it's because there's a guy in a tinfoil hat running for governor...

Okay, slight exaggeration about the tinfoil hat, but unless you got to read the same candidate statements as I did in this election, you may be blissfully unaware of the sheer number of total crackpots running for public office.

For those of you non-Californians, lemme ‘splain. June 5th was the California Statewide Direct Primary Election. In a nutshell, the purpose of a primary election is to narrow the field of candidates so that parties can put forth their most-voted-for candidate in the ‘for real’ election later on. Basically, it’s like having a meeting about a meeting. I know that makes it sound like I think primaries are a waste of time — I don’t. Trust me. The basket cases desperately need to be weeded out.

I vote absentee, which means that my ballot is sent to me ahead of time and I mail it back or return it to the appropriate location by election day. I choose to vote absentee because a) it made life a lot simpler in college, b) I don’t have to take time off of work to go vote (even though I am allowed to), and c) I like to be able to sit down and devote some actual time to studying the information sent to me so that I can base my vote on my understanding of the material et-civic-duty-cetera.

So anyway, I was sitting on the sofa one evening last week attending to my ballot, and, as is always the case, laughing hysterically at the candidate statements in the Voter Information Guide. Well, some of them. Others just made me cringe. In any case, there were some absolute gems this time around, and they were too good not to share — paraphrased, of course.

There is a candidate for state senator who used his entire allotted statement word count to warn everyone about the dangers of 5G wireless radiation — citing Google search results as evidence for his platform. Which is simply the desire to rid the world of the Big Bad Wireless Companies and their Deadly Radiation. Which is the sum total of said platform, because that’s what being a state senator is all about, apparently.

Several candidates had statements in a For/Against format: “Yes to God, baseball, and Mom’s apple pie! No to Big Business, taxes, and Federal involvement in State government!” or, “I am for Universal Everything and against Capitalist Greed!” Good for you. None of that tells me anything about your qualifications for much of anything. Pass.

There were the usual far-right and far-left candidates on offer — different enough from each other in their far-ness, but definitely all scoring high on the Whackadoodle Scale. There was a Green Party candidate whose statement was a line of poetry:

“Teach your children calculus
And keep the planet safe
Or feathered stones and empty bowls
Will also be their fate”

I can’t for the life of me figure out if this is his own, or something embedded in the Green Party Pledge, but either way, it’s cryptic as fuck. On the other side of things were the usual WASP-y old white guys, one of whom seems to think that transgenderism is a mental illness and that exposing children to this idea as something normal and not to be judged is “a very sick attack upon children and a form of child molestation.” Okay, we get it, you’re not a big fan of the LGBTQA++ community, but don’t you think that’s taking it a liiiiiiiiiiiiiittle far? Like, maybe all-the-way-to-Saturn too far? I’d be willing to bet that this sad old codger has driven his entire family away with this nonsense. You got automatic entry into the Angry Old White Guy Club by virtue of your birth, dude. Relax.

(Or maybe he’s just so far in denial about the fact that in college he and his buddies got wasted one night and found out that he looks fantastic in Carmen Miranda getup that he feels the need to spout hatred and bile at the world out of shame. That’s… sad, actually. Come on, guy. Everyone loves a person in a fruit hat.)

To say that I base my voting decisions on the apparent sanity (or in some cases, insanity) of the candidate would be accurate. Honestly, it makes voting easier because once you vet the crazies there are only about six candidates left to choose from. Although the vetting process is made entertaining by these delightful people who I suppose are well-intentioned but mostly just make themselves and their parties look like complete dumb bunnies.

And one final note — this one on the photos accompanying these statements — apparently the morticians union is benefiting greatly from all political parties, because I’ve been to a whole slew of open casket funerals in my life, and the aesthetic is unmistakable.

Sometimes Fads Work Out in My Favor

I’ve never been much of a one for following what’s ‘in’ at any given moment, at least not with any particular fervor. Part of this has to do with the fact that I was born middle-aged, part of it has to do with having been born middle-aged to practically-middle-aged parents, and both of those things created a consumer of necessity rather than a consumer of frivolity. In a nutshell: Buy what you need, use it until it dies, replace, repeat.

That isn’t to say that I haven’t owned my fair share of popular whatevers — I have. I just don’t have a history of going out of my way to obtain them if I don’t need to replace a current whatever. Take, for example, my much-loved Jansport backpack (RIP). I had been through a handful of less expensive school bags and would probably have grabbed another one, but, as luck would have it, Mom and I were at the office supply store and the big, fancy Jansports were on sale, so that’s what I ended up with. And that thing lasted the remainder of high school, all of undergrad, the year of my Master’s program, and continued hard use up until about two years ago when it finally fell apart. I was going to replace it with another Jansport, but the quality has changed dramatically during the 10+ years I had the old one and they don’t seem to be nearly as robust as they used to be.

Another of my brand loyalties is Ray-Ban. This was accidental. I was spending the weekend in Santa Cruz with my aunt and uncle and I had cheapy drugstore sunglasses and was constantly squinting and it was decided that I was ready for a pair of ‘real, grown-up’ sunglasses. That first pair of Ray-Bans lasted six years, at which point the finish was shot to shit (we still don’t know why or how) and they were replaced with another pair of Ray-Bans which I am still wearing ten years later. Of course, I’m a proper adult now, and can decide for myself when to replace my sunglasses and do so on my own dime, and I have been debating about a new pair for a couple of years now just for a change of style, but… the old ones still block the sun.

I’ve bought copycat styles of apparel in the past, but I can only think of a handful of times I’ve shelled out for the ‘real deal’ on purpose for the sake of the label. A couple of pairs of Chuck Taylors, yes. And I was absolutely on the bandwagon when Converse/Nike released the Chuck Taylor Allstar II (the Chucks you love — with an arch support!!!) which, sadly, was apparently a total flop and they’re not making them anymore, so thank goodness I grabbed them while I could. (Still pissed about this, actually. The wound is deep and recent. I just want comfy AND fashionable sneakers, is that so much to ask?!) I own a pair of Toms not because I had set out to obtain them, but because they happened to be the perfect style and color to pair with the dress for which I was having difficulty finding shoes. It’s not like I’m some sort of fashion plate to begin with — ninety percent of the time I wear Danskos to work. There, that’s another label I pay for on purpose, but I can assure you it has nothing to do with fashion and everything to do with the fact that I destroyed my body by living in a ballet studio for the majority of late adolescence.

Cosmetics. Yes, okay, there’s one. But it also stems from the fact that I’m allergic to talc which is a very common ingredient in cosmetics. Getting away from talc is synonymous these days with getting away from all sorts of other not-so-nice ingredients. Also, I prefer to go cruelty-free, so that narrows the field even more, leaving me with a handful of (generally pricey) brands from which to choose. Then again, I rarely use much of anything cosmetic anyway, so I feel like a little bit of luxury in a column where I don’t spend much to begin with isn’t the worst thing.

Also, I like bunnies.

In any case, the fad I set out to discuss actually has nothing to do with brands at all. It’s plant-based. Literally. In the past few years there has been an immense uptick in the popularity of succulents. They’re in everything from wedding bouquets to parking lot planter boxes. They’re a popular subject for generic pre-framed wall art. They’re a cute little motif on stationary.

They’re easy to propagate, grow, and care for. Break off a leaf by accident? Just stick it in the dirt, it’ll root. They’re low maintenance. Water them once a week and other than that, leave them alone. They come in an abundance of different and interesting shapes, colors, and sizes, with or without blooms. Seriously, the variety is astounding!

AND, they’re the only thing that will happily grow on my patio because it gets full, blazing afternoon sun.

That’s it. That’s what I was excited about.

I HAVE POPULAR PLANTS!!!

The Single Human Male: a Field Guide

I am currently single. I do not wish to stay this way forever, so I am exploring options for meeting (and vetting) potential partners.

That’s the nice way of saying I’m braving the clusterfuckery that is the online dating scene.

Since actually paying for this service smacks of desperation, I have previously favored the free sites — OKCupid, Bumble, etc. — and so far haven’t had much luck. Oh, there are some nice enough people, sure, but no one who’s managed to keep my attention for longer than a few dates.

“Okay, so, free sites collect ‘hobbyist’ daters. I guess if someone’s willing to pay for the service they’re more likely to be serious. Worth a try?”

Enter eHarmony, where you don’t pay until you find someone with whom you want to communicate. I could have a mini-rant here about their marketing model, which is basically to bait you with only the written parts of people’s profiles and no photos or communication tools unless you pony up the subscription fee, but… actually, that pretty much covers it. Suffice it to say that I haven’t yet read anything that was enticing enough for me to fork over the cash.

However, I’m discovering trends, and I’ve developed the following field guide for recognizing the types of single human males found on dating sites to help any of you single ladies (or gentlemen, I don’t judge) in navigating the uncharted backwaters of the online dating cesspit, should you require assistance in doing so.

I present to you:
The Elizabeth Fazzio Absolutely Not Comprehensive & Probably Slightly Offensive Field Guide to the Single Human Male

Chapter One — Recognizing Your Subject

One-Word-Answer Man
One-Word-Answer Man fills in the sections of his profile with, as the label indicates, single words, or, when the question requires more than one answer, a bulleted list.

“What are you looking for in a partner?”

“Honesty. Thoughtfulness. Sense of humor.”

“Who has had the most positive influence on your life?”

“Parents.”

“What do you like to do on the weekends?”

“Hike. Snowboard. Have some beers.”

Good job, One-Word-Answer Man, I’ve learned so much about you.

The Jock
All of The Jock’s profile photos are action shots of him playing sports, or photos of him at sporting events. He has maxed out the check-boxes in the questions about sports and physical activities. His profile blurbs revolve around sporting events and team loyalties, and he seems to spend every waking hour that he’s not working engaged in some sort of sporting activity. There are other things out there in the world, Jock. It wouldn’t kill you to try some of them.

The Dictator
Oh, this guy. The Dictator starts all of the sections regarding his desired attributes in a partner with the phrase, “You should be”.

“You should be active, outgoing, and always up for a good time.”

“You should be equally at home out on the town as home on the couch with a good movie.”

You know what I should be, Mr. Dictator? I should be me. People don’t conform to checklists. This isn’t Build-A-Girlfriend.

The Outdoorsman
The Outdoorsman claims to be most at home in the wilderness. His photos all have pine trees or huge boulders in them, and he’s usually wearing a large backpack and a bandana that looks as though it could stand up on its own. He’s looking for someone to go hiking and camping with, someone who doesn’t mind getting a little dirty. Someone who’s up for adventure! He probably has a large dog and a Subaru, and if he had his way he’d move to the Sierras and live in a log cabin he built by himself and live on home-grown vegetables. He will claim to be the kind of guy you can safely take home to meet your parents. I hate to break it to you, bub, but there is no human being on God’s green earth who will impress my parents. I don’t even impress my parents. Next!

The Frat Boy
This dude is clean-cut, sharply dressed, physically fit, and probably works at a law firm or in sales. Everything about him is generic. He likes all the standard dude films and books (if he claims to read at all) and his ideal Friday night is a popular bar with a band and a group of identical Frat Boys. He is holding a drink in all of his photos, and the majority of those photos were taken at his fraternity brothers’ weddings. If he reaches out to you, he will ask incredibly generic questions and not know what to do if you use a word with more than three syllables. Really? The best you could do is ‘How do you usually spend Saturday night?’ Sorry, Mr. Frat Boy, I am not for you, and you are not for me. I mean, unless you want a side-job as a doorstop...

The World Traveller
The World Traveller wants a girlfriend with a current passport and a seemingly endless budget and supply of vacation days. His bucket list of places to visit is a mile and a half long, as is the list of places he’s been already. He waxes poetic about culture and cuisine and ‘learning and growing as a person’. One of his profile pictures is him in front of the Taj Mahal. Way to reinforce the stereotype, Mr. World Traveller. By the way, did you get the consent of the guardians of the South American children you posed for photos with before plastering them all over the Internet as heartstring-tuggers in your quest for a mate?

The Gym Rat
If you’re in the market for a workout buddy, this is your guy. He posts nothing but gym selfies and takes every opportunity to mention his workout schedule and proclivity for healthy eating. He makes sure to mention at least one vice (“Ice cream is my weakness, LOL!”) to make himself seem human, but it’s pretty obvious that his brains are in his biceps. When you’re on a first-name basis with nine-tenths of the members of your gym, and you know more details about their lives than you do about your own family, it’s time to leave, bucko.

The Intellectual
He idolizes Stephen Hawking and will happily discuss black holes with you. His ‘Books I’ve Read’ list reads like the ‘Who’s Who?’ of historical brainiacs. He’s looking for someone to have deep, complicated conversations with, someone with a passion for learning about new things who will throw themselves wholeheartedly into said new subject for fun. He dreams of being able to travel to outer space or the deepest portions of the oceans in search of new and exciting species. He has all of the BBC ‘Planet Earth’-type series on DVD. He is Very Serious. These guys dissect everything. Even jokes. They might laugh, but then they start picking it apart until it’s a sad pile of joke bones and there’s no more joy in it. Sometimes it’s okay to take things at face value, okay?

The Boy Next Door
‘God, baseball, and Mom’s apple pie’ is this gentleman in a nutshell. He holds doors, says ‘Sir’ and ‘Ma’am’, and is almost sickeningly wholesome. He will talk endlessly about how much his family means to him and how supportive they all are of each other and how he could never have become the man he is today without them. His faith is very important to him and it’s likely that the Bible is on his ‘Favorite Reads’ list. He is desperate to start a family, and probably wants a whole mess of small humans. Some of his photos have children in them and captions like, “My awesome niece and nephew!” Maybe it’s just me, but these guys bring out my inner evil in a big way. They’re so infinitely corruptible, I just want to ruin them! Muahahahaha! ::rubs hands together in evil glee::

Every Profile I Immediately Skip Due to Incorrect Spelling, Grammar, Punctuation, etc.
This one kind of explains itself, really.

Look, I’m sure you’re all fine human beings, guys, but I’m particular. You should be particular, too! Finding a person to share your life with is NOT something where you settle for less than what you want and need. I’ve done that before. It didn’t work. I don’t recommend it.

Also, if I read the phrase 'looking for a partner in crime' once more, there will be bloodshed. 

The search continues...