Wish

A little piece I made for a friend for Yule. With help, of course, since another friend drew the fairy. 

(Thank you!)

Holiday card 2014

We kept it simple this year. And late, too.

Memory

Then it's gone

I prop my breasts next to my mango sweet ice tea.

I rest my chin in my hands.
I gaze out the window at the storm.

The trees flail their limbs helplessly in the wind’s rage.

What is behind your anger? ask the trees.

There’s usually fear under the anger, say the trees.

The insects scurry away,

The squirrels hide, the birds cower

in the tumult.

The grass breaks under the pounding of the rain.

The ground can’t escape the beating of the rain’s fists.

What is your motivation for hitting? asks the grass

What is behind your anger?

We are afraid of changing, say the wind and the rain

We don’t want to change.

The storm wanes and then it’s gone.

The sun peeks out timidly through cracks in the dark fretful clouds.

It’s over now. say the trees, the grass, the ground

I’m sure it won’t happen again they say.

I watch the storm through the window
in comfort. My glasses slip down my nose.

The dog sleeps. It’s gone.

A free download

So the post I was working on isn't complete, but I wanted to put this music up, so I put it here instead of the sidebar.






 

Mission statement

One of my latest class assignments was to create a personal/professional mission statement (I'm still not sure why).  Here's what I came up with: 

Lucy, Continued

“Hi, I’m Detective Sayers,” he said as he sat down across the table from Lucy.  “We’re just following up with people who saw Lloyd recently. It’s no big deal.”

 

“Why?” asked Lucy, confused.

 

“He’s dead,” replied Detective Sayers.

 

“What?” Lucy stared at him.  He had a large mole on his cheek.  She wondered if he’d gone to his doctor to check for skin cancer.

 

“You didn’t know?” he asked.

 

“We only had one date, if you’d call it that,” she replied. “It was two weeks ago, and he never called afterward.  I didn’t really know him.”

 

“Just one date?”

 

“Yeah, we just had a picnic while watching jazz and then had ice cream.  It was…..awkward.”

 

“How did the date happen?”

 

“My friend Cecilia set it up. I think she knew him through friends.”

 

“And you haven’t seen him since?”

 

“Haven’t even talked to him.  We definitely didn’t click.”

 

“Well, if we think of anything else we’ll let you know.”

 

Lucy climbed into her car and sat, tapping her thumb on the steering wheel in time with the drumbeat in her head. Eventually, she started the car and drove home.

My response to "What am I seeing? Is she tied to a tree?" Part 2

For copyright stuff (just to be sure), I didn't post any pics in this post. I apologize for all the links. To see the Wonder Woman cover discussed here, go to the DC website: http://www.dccomics.com/comics/wonder-woman-2011/wonder-woman-31


The cover of this month's Wonder Woman, #31, depicts her tied to a tree, hunched/slumped over with her legs open, and with several arrows piercing her upper body. The DC website also includes a close up of her face, with an expression that could be pain from the multiple arrows embedded in her flesh, anger at whoever tied her up and/or shot the arrows, or could be a complete lack of feeling. It's hard to tell. Personally, I think it's embarrassment that a mere mortal male reduced her to this.


In a recent interview with Comic Book Resources- here - the artist, Cliff Chiang, talked about not wanting to over sexualize Wonder Woman and stated, "You've got to draw that thong bikini, you've got to draw those big boobs and all that stuff. I feel like we have to check ourselves and say, 'Well, is this really accomplishing telling the story that we want to tell?' "  But what about the covert messages? What are young men seeing when they look at this image?  How might young women interpret this in terms of their self image, their safety, and possible internalization of appropriate behavior expectations? It is especially poignant in light of the mass shooting event that occurred this week (article).


Mr. Chiang graduated from Harvard University with a joint degree in English Literature and Visual Arts (according to the Comic Vine bio), He, of all people, should know that underlying themes, meanings, and messages are everywhere: in movies, in books, and especially in the commercial where a man who accidentally showered with soap designed for women runs around frantically engaging in appropriate "manly" behaviors in order to counteract the effect of the soap: metalwork (!), mowing the lawn (*!@), and playing the drums (&*@!!#).


Oh yeah? Watch this drumming video.


Oddly enough, this is the same artist who created  this poster: click here. It's pretty amazing. I'm not sure what happened to bring this current cover to fruition. Superheroes should show vulnerability at times.  It's what makes them interesting, multi-dimensional characters. And Wonder Woman would be an especially good opportunity for artistic types to demonstrate emotions, based on her history and the idea that (let's face it) it's more acceptable in today's society for women to show their emotions.  But depicting Wonder Woman as she is on this cover is not a demonstration of emotional vulnerability or a step forward in developing her as a multi-dimensional character. This cover places Wonder Woman in physical pain and makes her powerless and helpless. I might have to be super careful walking by myself at night, Wonder Woman shouldn't have to be.


The artwork style in this current series is based on a style from the DC past.  So I pulled a book off my shelves, DC Cover Girls by Louise Simonsen, and reviewed the Wonder Woman section for past covers. Amongst images of Wonder Woman singlehandedly stopping trains and swinging villains over her head, there were some covers on which she was restrained. On the cover of #156 (May 2000), she is kneeling, head bowed, chained via her wrists to Devastation's oversized head. On the cover of #68 (10c), she is tied via her wrists to a buoy (with closed legs) while a torpedo aims straight at the buoy. #229 (30c) depicts her chained via her wrists to a wall with a missile aimed at her. The most disturbing to me is the cover of #205 (20c), on which she is depicted tied (full body) spread eagled on a torpedo headed for New York City with planes firing at her. She truly looks frightened.


Those covers were then, this is now.  Damsel in distress tropes are outdated and unnecessary, although someone should probably tell Michael Bay (article or a different article). An early Wonder Woman comic (reprinted in Wonder Woman: Amazon, Hero, Icon by Robert Greenberger), in which William Moulton Marston (as Charles Moulton) details Wonder Woman's origins, includes a caption stating that "at three, the wonder child pulls up a fruit tree by its roots." Now, over 60 years later, she's tied to a tree instead.


If Wonder Woman were drawn in this fashion inside the book, she would be able to get out of the situation and show her ability, strength and power.  However, by drawing her this way on the cover, she is stuck this way, helplessly preserved forever in digital memory.


I don't know what I would find if I looked through the history of Superman or Batman covers, but if someone were to currently draw either of these characters on their own covers in exactly this pose, (tightly tied, including the angle of the legs and multiple arrows slammed into their chests), and get it approved and published, then and ONLY then, should any female character be shown restrained and/or helpless on a DC cover.


When I sent the link to this image to someone via email, I was asked "What am I seeing? Is she tied to a tree?" The short answer is "yes, Wonder Woman is tied to a tree."  It is not a situation to which I aspire. If I had a daughter, I would not want her (or any other girl, such as the drummer in the video) to aspire to it either. If I had a son, I would not want him (or any other boy) to consider for a second that this is an appropriate depiction of women, or that this is an appropriate way for him to treat a woman. If Wonder Woman had been present while this picture was being created, I think she would have made it very clear to the artist that she, and women, are no damsels in distress, and that depicting the type of treatment in the image is unacceptable.


When I picked up this issue I'm sure my face fell.  I know my stomach did.  I put the book back. There is a digital-first new version of the Wonder Woman-centric Sensation Comics coming out this summer.  I'll wait for that series instead.

My response to "What am I seeing? Is she tied to a tree?" Part 1

Those of you who have stuck with this blog over the years (or who know me!) are fully aware of my interests or perhaps more accurately "obsessions": Jane Austen books, John Cusack movies,


and Wonder Woman.

Mostly through the generosity of friends, but with some of my own input, I have accumulated all 3 seasons of the TV series, a throw, the POP! figure, a flash drive, glasses, mugs, a watch, an action figure, Wonder Woman encyclopedias, and this handmade personalized paperweight. Without realizing it, I have become surrounded by Wonder Woman paraphernalia.


She's a feminist icon, gracing the cover of the very first issue of Ms. Magazine in 1972, and their 35th and 40th anniversary issues. She's strong and powerful, yet caring and a champion of the underdog: animals, children, women. Some women around the world may even have used her as a role model when they needed to be a little bit braver in their everyday lives.  And that's enough on that.

I recently wrote a series of posts on my first visits to comic shops.  Since then, I've located some characters that, although I don't know them well yet, I find interesting: Carol Danvers, Kate Kane, Sara Pezzini. I'm thinking I wouldn't mind spending time at a pub with them watching a rugby match.


But no Wonder Woman.


In a previous post I referenced a review  by Alicia Anderson (this), in which she discusses the issues with the current Wonder Woman series. Keeping that in mind, I initially chose to focus on learning about other comic book characters. But each month, on new Wonder Woman release day, I found myself looking through her book, hoping that I would find something to convince me to jump into the series. Each time, not without regret, I put it back on the shelf.


As Ms. Anderson recommended, the Amazons are back in the story. There also appears to be a focus in recent issues on a storyline in which Wonder Woman is attempting to force the Amazons to accept and help raise a male child. I can't fathom why there would be any need to construct a storyline which would require the Amazon warrior women to raise a male child. Are they so threatening as a community of confident, powerful women that adding a male presence is necessary? As Anderson states, "the Amazons were a magical, immortal race of women who didn’t need men to thrive," yet in this current version of the Wonder Woman story, "her [Amazonian] sisters are the fruit of reproduction with hapless, doomed sailors.  The Amazons as a race have been destroyed in this version of the mythology."


Of course, everyone knows that for a woman to be complete she should be a mother. Just look around: at the celebrity "news" about pregnancies, at celebrities chattering away about their children on Ellen, the lecture I received from a classmate about the joy of having children, and the reaction of a young woman I know after I told her I most likely won't get married and definitely won't be having children, which consisted of her telling me that the whole point of life was to get married and have babies. But the Amazons presumably helped raise Diana and other young Amazons, so they have already met this requirement to being fulfilled as women. So the point in this storyline must be that the child is male.


Everyone also knows that a woman isn't complete without a man, right? Most Disney movies start us out early in this regard. We need to find our hunky male princely soul mate, even if we have to turn into a vampire. The Amazons being the Amazons, however, a romantic male presence wouldn't be feasible, so therefore, this necessary-to-our-happiness male presence is in the form of a child. Even Bones, that logical, rational being who stated in the early seasons of the show that she wouldn't ever get married, eventually married Booth and had a child.  Get with the program, Amazon ladies.


A young man raised by a group of strong, powerful warriors could potentially grow up to embrace the concept of strong women and be a facilitator of change. However, these women don't want him (and if they don't, they shouldn't be forced to) and might tell him at some point that he needs to go back and live in the outside world, where he just as easily could end up as an UnSub on an episode of Criminal Minds, in which, unable to kill the Amazons who reluctantly raised him, he kills other strong women as substitutes- Olympic gold-medalists in weightlifting or judo, maybe.  The profilers on Criminal Minds talk about a "stressor", which in this case would be the rejection by this all-woman community, hypothetically speaking.

I think that DC should have a crossover issue, where Superman or Batman takes the baby and raises him as a single father.


This month, on my visit to the comic book store, I was browsing through the DC titles.  I looked over the Batgirl cover, where she is being physically overpowered by a male villain named Ragdoll (last month she was draped artistically over the bottom part of the cover, restrained by Poison Ivy's poison ivy), and then, again, checked out the new Wonder Woman issue.


Obviously, the first thing I saw was the cover.




to be continued...




Anderson, A. (2014). DC: Give Us Back Our Wonder Woman. Girls Like Comics. Retrieved from
http://girlslikecomics.com/dc-new-52-wonder-woman/#.U4DZOq3jjIV

Something blue

This is Skylar, a blue nail polish made by Zoya, one of my favorite brands of nail polish.

It's also one of my newest nail polishes (so I guess it could have been in the something new post also). I got it as part of Zoya's Earth Day Exchange, in which I bought it at a discounted price, and for which I will send back an old bottle of nail polish that is not Zoya and which contains more of the toxic stuff than Zoya polishes do. They try to keep out the bad stuff, though that's not completely possible with nail polish.They will dispose of this old polish responsibly and according to EPA guidelines. Of course, I still have to send back the old stuff since I am a chronic procrastinator.

Zoya names their polishes with women's names- I also have colors called Faye and Peyton. The funny thing is that I happen to know a man named Skylar, with that exact spelling.  He's a friend of friends, and he never remembers my name the few times I've met him. But the same spelling thing is fine with me- I'm all for gender neutrality in language.  For example, I try to avoid the words superheroine, actress, waitress, policeman, stewardess, and/or fireman.  They're superheroes, actors, servers, police officers, firefighters and/or flight attendants, regardless of which gender they happen to be. Same with Skylar.



Something borrowed

Elizabeth felt herself growing more angry every moment; yet she tried to the utmost to speak with composure when she said,—
“You are mistaken, Mr. Darcy, if you suppose that the mode of your declaration affected me in any other way than as it spared me the concern which I might have felt in refusing you, had you behaved in a more gentleman-like manner.”
She saw him start at this; but he said nothing, and she continued,—
“You could not have made me the offer of your hand in any possible way that would have tempted me to accept it.”
Again his astonishment was obvious: and he looked at her with an expression of mingled incredulity and mortification. She went on,—
“From the very beginning, from the first moment, I may almost say, of my acquaintance with you, your manners impressing me with the fullest belief of your arrogance, your conceit, and your selfish disdain of the feelings of others, were such as to form that groundwork of disapprobation, on which succeeding events have built so immovable a dislike; and I had not known you a month before I felt that you were the last man in the world whom I could ever be prevailed on to marry.”


(borrowed from Page(s): 214-215, Pride and Prejudice (Barnes & Noble Classics Series) by Jane Austen and Carol Howard, Barnes & Noble, NOOK Study version)


I almost received a proposal on my 19th birthday, before I came to my senses and realized that I was far too young.  I'm pretty sure I still am.  We had been discussing it, and I suspected that it would happen on my birthday. So I broke up with him a couple of weeks before my birthday.  I don't remember how I did it, but it was most likely not as eloquent as Elizabeth Bennet's speech.  Although that level of disdain probably wasn't necessary in my case. I still think, however, that this is the best shootdown of a marriage proposal ever. The last bit is gold if you really want to get your point across.


Jane Austen accepted a marriage proposal, for a day, before she too came to her senses and realized that, although the gentleman in question was a friend of the family and that marriage to him would mean financial security for herself and said family, that they really would not suit each other. I picture her reply to be more in line with this letter written by Charlotte Bronte in response to a marriage proposal from the brother of one of her friends:


My dear Sir
Before answering your letter, I might have spent a long time in consideration of its subject; but as from the first moment of its reception and perusal I determined on which course to pursue, it seemed to me that delay was wholly unnecessary.
You are aware that I have many reasons to feel gratified to your family, that I have peculiar reasons for affection towards one at least of your sisters, and also that I highly esteem yourself. Do not therefore accuse me of wrong motives when I say that my answer to your proposal must be a decided negative. In forming this decision — I trust I have listened to the dictates of conscience more than to those [of] inclination; I have no personal repugnance to the idea of a union with you — but I feel convinced that mine is not the sort of disposition calculated to form the happiness of a man like you. It has always been my habit to study the character of those amongst whom I chance to be thrown, and I think I know yours and can imagine what description of woman would suit you for a wife. Her character should not be too marked, ardent and original — her temper should be mild, her piety undoubted, her spirits even and cheerful, and her “personal attractions” sufficient to please your eye and gratify your just pride. As for me, you do not know me, I am not this serious, grave, cool-headed individual you suppose — you would think me romantic and [eccentric -- you would] say I was satirical and [severe]. [However, I scorn] deceit and I will never for the sake of attaining the distinction of matrimony and escaping the stigma of an old maid take a worthy man whom I am conscious I cannot render happy.
[…]
Farewell—! I shall always be glad to hear from you as a friend –
Believe me
Yours truly
C Bronte


(borrowed from Brainpickings.com and Charlotte Bronte)


Of course, while I should maybe memorize these examples, there's really no need. Any man smart enough will know that I will be the one proposing.  He'll also know not to expect it.

Something new (to me)

For something old, just read a previous post!

Something new (to me, at least):


I bought this at Free Comic Book Day (yeah, I get the irony of that).

Once I got it home, I was thrilled to find out that Batwoman teams up with Wonder Woman to save the day (and Gotham City)!

Title: Batwoman Volume 3 (includes issue #0 and 12-17), authors J.H. Williams III and W. Haden Blackman, artist J.H. Williams III with additional art by Trevor McCarthy, colorists Dave Stewart and Guy Major, Todd Klein letterer. Lots of men, really, but they did a great job here, in my opinion.

He said

"There, see that star way up there, the third star to the right? That star is my heart. It burns for you.'


"That's a white dwarf star. It's virtually dead," he said.


"Ok, then not that one. Look to the left, count ten stars back.  That one. That's my heart."


"That's a supergiant.  Probably about to die. When it does it will most likely become a black hole."


"Forget it.  My heart is my heart.  And it beats faster, into a frenzy, when you come near."


"Umm....that's nice," he said.

A visit to a comic shop (part 4: Ms. Marvel)

part 1, part 2, part 3 if you missed them.


When I arrived home after visiting the comic shop in part 2, after I had let the dog out and then fed him, I eagerly opened the bag of comics, right there in my kitchen.


First of all, Ms. Marvel appears to be a well-written comic, in the opinion of someone who doesn't know comics. The teenage drama is spot on, as is the cultural aspects. She deals with a traditional (at least I think so) family, sneaks out to attend a party, and is cruelly teased because of her religion and her skin color. Some sort of weird fog obscures everything, and she has a vision of Captain Marvel and her fellow superheroes. She tells Captain Marvel that she wants to be just like her. Captain Marvel, with a few words of warning, agrees.


The next frame shows a White, blonde Ms. Marvel.


I literally cringed.


Obviously, as demonstrated by the first 3 parts of this series of posts, I am not looking at this from a comic based knowledge. Instead, I am looking at this from the perspective of someone who has had multicultural awareness (and hopefully, some sensitivity) pounded into her. In my most recent multicultural class we watched videos of African-American teenage girls discussing the discrimination against those with darker skin and the desirability of lighter skin, and the things they do to appear more "White": bleaching and straightening their hair, for example.  A book that I read years ago, about passing as white (and other issues), The House Behind the Cedars, by Charles W. Chestnutt, left a lifelong impact. Amy Tan's books also tend to deal with the conflict between the traditional and the younger generation, who are often in the process of acclimating to the dominant culture. The list could keep going for several posts. It's a thing. Unfortunately.


As I stood there leaning against my kitchen counter, with the dog munching contentedly at my feet, staring at a teenage girl dealing with family conflict and being made fun of by other kids because of her religion and the color of her skin, who had asked to be someone else, who then changes into a superhero who is blonde and White and who presumably meets societal expectations of "pretty":


My heart hurt.


With the information I have so far about Kamala Khan, (although before making an actual determination, we would need to question her further and obtain more pertinent information) she would most likely fall within an assimilation or conformity stage of a racial identity model, in that she is struggling with her race/religion/family and wants to fit in with the dominant culture.


I knew that the professor who had taught my most recent multicultural class actually is a comic book aficionado. I brought my Ms. Marvel comic books to campus to let him look at them.  I told him that they were really well written, and the cultural aspects were spot on, but that he would know the moment in the first book which caused me to cringe.


We flipped through the pages, and I pointed out her conflict with her family, the moment where she gets teased and made fun of at the party, and where she tells Captain Marvel she wants to be like her.


Then we turn the page, and I show him how she looks as Ms. Marvel, and wait for it.


He looked up, shocked.  "She's White?" he said.   "Why?"


"I've been thinking about it," I replied.


"First, she asks Captain Marvel if she can look like her, and this is what Captain Marvel looked like when she was younger, presumably. Plus, they're rebooting Ms. Marvel, and therefore, she needs to look like Ms. Marvel has looked in previous versions. I think." I said.


"I guess," he said.  "But it still sends a message."


I nodded.


"They're going to have to resolve that at some point in the series," he said.


We'll see.

A visit to a comic shop (part 3)

Read part 1 and part 2 if you missed them.


A few days after the visit to the last comic store, I started wondering what I would do when the third issue of Ms. Marvel shapeshifts into the world. Should I just download it? Should I give that store a second chance? Should I find a store that would require a special out of the way trip to get there?


I remembered a store from my search for local comic shops that was closer to me than the last store, so I found the name again and googled it. Clicking on the link for the website brought up a message that the store was currently closed. So much for that.


But then I clicked a different link and discovered that someone had posted information about new store stock and free comics day. So I went back to the store's website and clicked on the twitter symbol. The last tweet had been posted 24 minutes before. Slightly confused, I realized that I was going to physically drive to the store's location to see if the store was open for business.


It didn't bode well.


After my experience in the last store, I decided to find some other titles so I would have something to ask for help with if anybody actually offered to help me. After digging through several (I admit) Wikipedia articles, reading a review commenting on the propensity for Power Girl's costume to be torn to shreds in every New 52 issue (here), and finding out the 10 longest running female solo series (there), I chose two series in which I was possibly interested.


The next day after work, I ventured forward on the second part of my quest. I started at one end of the shopping center and just as I was getting frustrated at the numbering system in the center (which didn't seem to match the posted address for the store), I saw "Comics" above a storefront. I took a deep breath and opened the door.


It was like night and day. Literally. The other store had been a dark cave worthy of Batman. This store was bright. I'm not sure if it was because there were more windows, they weren't completely covered with posters, the lights were brighter, or the towering collectibles case in the middle was glass and allowed the light to pass through.


The GuyBehindTheRegister paused in the middle of helping the people in front him to say "hi" to me before the door had even closed behind me.


This store did appear to have less stock than the last store, although since I hadn't felt comfortable browsing in the last one I couldn't really compare the two. There were definitely fewer display shelves in this store.


I paused inside the door, with the register on the right, and the shelves on the left. Whether it was my bad experience waiting at the register for help in the other store, the brighter feel to this store, or that the amount of stock didn't appear so daunting, I turned left and started browsing. I quickly found my first title, though since I only found one issue it may have been in the wrong place. I kept going.


I wondered if the GuyBehindTheRegister would offer to help after he was done helping the people in the store before me (which evidently required a long conversation about collectibles). It didn't happen, but it was fine with me because the longer I browsed the more comfortable I became doing so.


While I browsed I found that:
a. The shelves were not too tall, so that I could see and flip through the items on the top shelf without too much difficulty.
b. Each stack had different issues in it, some more than one title, which might mean that the difference between the stock in this store and the other store was not as great as it appeared


I also found:
Amanda Waller-
I was REALLY tempted by this title, but I ended up not getting it. At home, I looked it up and found out that in the current New 52 universe she is younger and skinnier than the original. No thanks, I've had enough of that message. Come on, DC.
Huntress/Power Girl-
I didn't see any torn costumes in the issue I flipped through, but I did see a lot of teenage angst about boys.  Completely valid, but thankfully something I've mostly outgrown.
Wonder Woman-
Enough said in part 1.
She-Hulk-
I was also tempted by this series. Looks like she's an attorney and goes out for lunch with friends and all that regular life stuff even though she's green.  But I wasn't feeling the artwork.
The Illegitimates-
What? Still haven't figured this one out.


Random Inserted Note:
One of the people the GuyBehindTheRegister was helping when I walked in was a woman, one member of the couple he was helping with the collectibles was a woman, a woman walked in while I was browsing and plunked down on the couch  in front of a television (obviously a regular), and another woman walked in with food as I was walking up to the register. In other words, the GuyBehindTheRegister was vastly outnumbered by the number of women, including me, coming in and out of this store while I was there.
End Random Inserted Note!


I finally located my second series as I was almost done browsing through all the shelves. Close by, I also found another series to which I kept returning. I'd pick an issue up, flip through it, put it down. I'd look at something else, go back and pick up another issue, flip through it, put it back. Finally, I thought, "at least I can ask him about something now and see what happens," and brought it up to the register along with my other selections.


"Can you tell me her backstory?  I mean, who is she?" I asked.


(Of course, after I hunted down information about her online at home, I found out that she's been around for decades. This question clearly marked me as a newbie, which was pretty much the point, so hey! mission accomplished.)


He told me that she is a famous warrior, gave me some background about her existence in the current universe, and kept stressing that the series is really violent.


And as I stood there wrapped in indecision (and counting the dollar signs if I ended up liking it enough to keep buying future issues),
he said it:


"She's a really strong female character."


Sold.






Next (and the last) time: I discuss Ms. Marvel, the reason I started this quest in the first place

A visit to a comic shop (part 2)

To find out what happened last time in part 1, click here


I had just walked in the door of a comic shop for the first time.


The pictures I had found online showed a bright store with turquoise paint on the walls. Instead, I had entered what resembled a dark cave. Batman would have been comfortable there. They actually might have preferred Batman, since he probably has far more money. And cooler gadgets.


The store looked busy. The register, immediately inside the store, had a couple of people waiting in line to check out. A group of 3 or so guys were chatting a few steps further into the store. One, in a white buttoned shirt and jeans, said hi. I figured the next statement was going to be "can I help you?" so I said hi back. Nothing. Then I'm pretty sure he scanned me from head to toe because his gaze slid down to my shoes before he looked away. I guess he didn't like the shoes I was wearing.


I was there to pick up a comic book, not a guy.


I can't be sure I was paying enough attention to know exactly why he needed to look me over, or if he even did. If he did and he wasn't an employee, then it was only slightly creepy to have to deal with that after I had just entered a store. If he did and he was an employee, then it was definitely over the creepy line. I will therefore call him MayOrMayNotBeSlightlyCreepyGuy.


Because I was looked for a name tag or a lanyard or something to signify that he was an employee. I didn't find it. By the end of my visit there, after looking for some symbol of employment on any of the employees who did actually help me, I realized that no one wore anything to single them out of the people milling around the store, so that I could know to ask them for help instead of sending out a bat signal.


I decided to wait in line at the register at the front, to see if the GuyBehindTheRegister could help or point me in the direction of someone who could. The male in front of me finished buying his items and turned to leave. I was next. Another male customer promptly walked up to the front of the store, completely around me, and up to the register to pay for his items. Normally I would say something, and have before in other stores. For some reason, I didn't speak up, maybe because I was out of my element, and maybe because I wanted to see how long it would take an employee (a legitimate one) to actually notice that I was there.


Then, out of the corner of my eye, I saw it: the first issue of Ms. Marvel, and right next to it, Captain Marvel #1.


I immediately sent out a silent thank you to all the goddesses of all the universes and pantheons in every comic in the store. Not that I knew who or what they were, which is one of the reasons I never got into comic books in the first place- who can keep track of all the universes, incarnations, and reboots?


I didn't find the second issue of Ms. Marvel, however, and I still had no clue how to find it. I decided I might as well try to venture further into the store. I quickly realized that I had no idea how anything was organized. I did find Batgirl and Catwoman, but I didn't know the backstory or anything about these characters. I really wasn't feeling it, plus I needed to go home and let the dog out.


So I took my Ms. Marvel and Captain Marvel up to the registers, where I asked for the second Ms. Marvel. GuyBehindTheRegister yelled out to see if they had it. Turns out when I called ahead I should have checked on the second issue instead of the first. They were out.


MayOrMayNotBeSlightlyCreepyGuy just happened to be leaning against the desk to my right, and he asked if Ms. Marvel was the same as Captain Marvel. I held up both books, at which point AnsweredTheMs.MarvelQuestionGuy responded directly to MayOrMayNotBeSlightlyCreepyGuy that she was modeled after a (presumably male) superhero named after salad greens. I was pretty sure that I didn't give a fig for the salad greens guy.


Thankfully, the GuyBehindTheRegister pulled a copy that was being saved by another (female) employee for me. I did briefly feel bad for the employee, but AnsweredTheMs.MarvelQuestionGuy assured me that it was standard practice if they didn't pick up their subscriptions right away. So I bought it.


I wondered if I would have felt more comfortable in the store if AbsentWoman was there, but then I might not have scored her copy of Ms. Marvel #2.  Quite the ethical dilemma.


I can't say that I would view this comic shop as a place I would go to browse. Instead, I would have to figure out what I wanted beforehand, including the appropriate back stories, so that I could walk in and buy only what I already knew I wanted. I'm not sure that it's the best approach to running a business: although I try to get an idea beforehand on what I want to purchase before I go into, say, Ulta or Barnes & Noble, I inevitably find other items to buy because I am comfortable browsing (unfortunately for my bank account, but better for the business).


The saving grace in this store was the GuyBehindTheRegister. Although he let someone cut in line, he was really friendly when I did get to the register. He also made the effort to solve the problem of finding a copy of the comic book that I wanted.


I took my bag, got back in my car, drove home, and let the dog out. He didn't mind my shoes.


So there's that.



Next time: I visit a different comic shop

A visit to a comic shop (part 1)

Recently I bought a comic book for the first time.  To do so, of course, I also made my first visit to a comic book shop.


Considering how much I love Wonder Woman, you might think that I own an entire collection of her comic books. I don't. I own exactly two graphic novels: one is a Wonder Woman tome penned by Jodi Picoult (only the second female Wonder Woman writer), and The Crow by James O'Barr. I almost bought a graphic novel version of Pride and Prejudice, but by the time I went back to buy it, it was gone. I have yet to go online to get it, although I'm not sure why.


But I had also been hearing (and reading) about the new Ms. Marvel, one of the few females with her own solo series, and who happens to be a Muslim teenager. I briefly considered digitally downloading an issue, but then I thought I might as well try to get the actual book.


I admit that I was a bit trepidatious.

After seeing twitter conversations in my feed about whether comic book shops are comfortable for women (one women tweeted that she drives miles out of her way to go to a store ran by a woman who is friendly to her and will answer all her questions), contributing to the Kickstarter campaign for She Makes Comics (quote coming up), and reading A.K. Anderson's review of the New 52 Wonder Woman, in which she points out that the (male) authors have removed her from her Amazonian roots (thereby depriving her of the support of her mother and other female family members), have made her emotionally shallow, and do not seem to have basic knowledge of the mythology of Hades, Demeter, and Persephone, I was a little leery about going to a comic book shop.


--------
She Makes Comics will be a documentary about the history of women in comics, highlighting the contributions they have made to the business and the difficulties they face. The Kickstarter site for this project states:

"While women have made significant strides in the medium over the past several decades, it's still not easy to be a woman in comics. Female readers fight to be recognized as legitimate fans in an insular and sometimes sexist community. In mainstream comics, there remains an unequal balance of women in creative and business roles, and some publishers have been criticized for misogynistic portrayals of women in their titles. The pessimistic question is often asked: is there a place for women in comics?"
-----------


So I emailed a female friend who most likely would know more about local comic book shops than I do, and chose a store on her recommendation list that was on my way home. I called ahead to make sure that they had the first Ms. Marvel issue.  The guy on the phone was really friendly, so once I was in the car driving home, I thought "why not?" and found the place.

I mean, it's shopping. I could do that. And I don't actually mind looking like a little bit of an idiot in new places.  Just this morning in a new Ractrac I stood for who knows how long contemplating the multitude of ice teas available, all of which were in both Southern Sweet style and regular. Oh, the choices.

Anyway...


I pulled into the parking lot, parked, took a deep breath, and got out of the car. I noticed a man and a woman version of a couple also walking toward the shop, and thought, "See? Women shop here too."

So I walked through the door.




to be continued.....






The link for A.K. Anderson's review is HERE
The link for the She Makes Comics Kickstarter project: click here

Then and Now

This is a band called The Julie Ruin, and it features Kathleen Hanna a "few" years after Bikini Kill, which happens to be one of my favorite bands way back when (and maybe even still today).


I'm still thinking about this new version.





For the record, this is an official band video.

and when she opens her mouth to speak

and when she opens her mouth to speak
Snakes of rage and pain
roar from her throat
Careful! they will
force you to eat an apple
dripping with her sweet juice,
the poison of knowledge.


Pass judgment on her:
for not having children,
for being smart, for being
-according to Erikson-
isolated and stagnant,
for attempting to be herself instead,
for wanting to be heard.


Exorcise her sin, the slither
of her hips, the stomp of
her heavy boots. Forgive her
for the earthquakes she causes,
the lives she ruins.
Save her from her power
to destroy your world.

A book discussion: Dear Mr. Knightley

Dear Captain Wentworth,

I recently read a book composed entirely of letters to Mr. Knightley. Yep, you read that right- ENTIRELY of letters. The only part of the book that wasn’t a letter was the end, when Mr. Knightley of the letters became a real person. So, to be just as clever, I decided to direct my discussion of the book to you in a letter, Captain Wentworth. Unlike many Jane Austen fans, you are my favorite of her male lead characters, “heroes” if you like. You are my favorite, perhaps mostly because you were lucky enough to be in my favorite Jane Austen book, Persuasion, and actually noticed Anne Elliot, the main character in that book, for what she was, and were smart enough to realize that she was the one you wanted to accompany you on your adventures on the sea.

The book, by the way, is called Dear Mr. Knightley. The premise is that a young woman who has spent her teenage years in foster care receives a grant to go to graduate school (it has to be journalism, what’s up with that?) and all she has to do is write letters to the director of the foundation who gave her the grant, and address those letters to Mr. Knightley. When I bought the book (on sale, thankfully), I didn’t realize that the WHOLE thing was in the form of letters. I didn’t stay an English major, but I remember being told that this format was clichéd, contrived, trite, and overdone. Guess what, Captain Wentworth? It is.

By the time I had read a few of these letters, I was tired of it. It did get better toward the middle of the book, but it didn’t take long after that for me to just want her to be quiet.  This book is sickeningly sweet. Now, Captain Wentworth, people who know me will tell you that I have a huge sweet tooth. But this book isn’t sweet like that piece of wonderful chocolate that you put in your mouth and savor, let it melt on your tongue so that the taste of that piece of chocolate floods every nook and cranny of your mouth, the type of melting and flooding that makes you think the type of carnal thoughts FAR FAR more carnal than the main character of this book even knows exists. No, Captain Wentworth, this book is the aspartame type of sweet: fake, slightly off, weird and odd, and leaves a bad aftertaste in your mouth. It’s the pickup line “you’re so sweet you make my teeth ache” which should make any woman with half a brain and not very many drinks in her walk off.

Don’t get me wrong, dear Captain Wentworth, there are a couple of amazing sentences in the book. Here they are:

"The way pale yellow should look, like sunshine and butter, mixed with hope and cream"- from page 76 of the Nook book version, to describe the yellow walls of her new apartment.

And to describe the Indian food she ate with her boyfriend at the time, from page 91: "Dinner, time travel, and sunbathing rolled into one culinary experience."

However, there was a lot of wading through the mud of introspection, self reflection, and maudlin ramblings in these excruciatingly long (some of them) letters to find these gems.  And the character herself, Captain Wentworth, could actually be very likeable, whatever her name is. I was glad when Kyle found a family, and when she did also. I get that people need to work on forgiveness and relating to other people, and I especially get the building of walls. In fact, dear Captain Wentworth, if you were to sail your ship into my walls, your ship would break in pieces before my walls would even show a tiny hole. And I like you, Captain Wentworth.

But just give it to me in a story. I can only take so much. I found myself wanting to bang my head on the wall behind me in frustration way before the main character does so in the hallway of a hospital when she finds out that Alex Powell is the Mr. Knightley of the letters. For the first time, I felt in sync with this character. I would have been incredibly angry at his deception also. Of course, she promptly forgives him, probably because she’s been working so hard on relating to others and forgiveness and all that. I still wanted to bang my head against the wall.

My Jane Austen, my dear Captain Wentworth, is witty and at times caustic. Have you read her juvenilia, The History of England? Too funny, Captain Wentworth. Although she does give her female leads neatly arranged lives romantically in her novels, others do not merit such careful treatment. The character in Dear Mr. Knightley writes that she likes Fanny Price (I’m on the fence, personally), so let’s take Mansfield Park as an example. Lady Bertram and her pug are quite the comic duo, and Maria Bertram and Mrs. Norris are left sniping at each other at the end of the book as punishment for their behavior. I picture Jane Austen rolling her eyes (if they did that back then) and writing a highly satiric letter to her sister Cassandra about this book.

Anyway, Captain Wentworth, thank you for reading my letter. I know you’re married and have been for centuries, but if you weren’t and lived now and could sail your ship past my walls,

then it would be

Love,

D.D.

Men

Men.

They really are interesting creatures.

As I'm writing part of this post (in my nifty Wonder Woman journal), I'm sitting in a Barnes and Noble café surrounded by them. There's the cute one in the corner, for whom I had my friend switch seats with me so I could have a better view. They're sitting at tables with their wives or girlfriends reading, or solitary, hunched over a book with a cup of coffee or over a laptop with earplugs. One is even studying. In fact, there are far more men than women in this café in the middle of this weekday afternoon.


Eenie meenie miney mo- how much do you cost?


And when the cute one gets up to leave, I notice a tattoo peeking out from below his shirt sleeve, which prompts a debate between my friend and me about tattoos on men.  I like 'em (with some moderation), she doesn't.


Then another, slightly less cute one asks me to watch his stuff while he goes somewhere. I don't ask where. I also don't say what I would usually say to friends who ask this favor: "Sure, I'll let you know if someone steals anything." I figure I don't know him well enough to joke around like that.





On my visit to Jane Austen's cottage in Chawton, England, several years ago, I remember seeing a display that included a list of the men in her life, from the ones with whom she mildly flirted to the one from whom she accepted a marriage proposal before changing her mind shortly after. However, when I went through my pictures from that trip, I didn't find one from that display. Perhaps it didn't turn out, maybe they have a rule that states "no pictures", or maybe my memory is fooling me, as Oliver Sacks discusses here, which I found via this. Anyway, even Jane Austen wasn't immune to the cute one in the corner.


I'm pretty sure I don't have an actual point in this post.  They just are. Men.


And at least a few of them like books.

The class exercise

Tiny scraps of paper
ripping like knives,
dissolving into tears
oppressed, oppressor,
oppression
pieces of my life
carelessly thrown away
in a class exercise
(evidently)
aimed at me-
because I am not gay and
(therefore)
I don't get it

 

A dream

I met James from Metallica last night in my dreams.  We were at a home a bit like a dorm hall, with a main living area large enough for a small stage. In the dream it was my home, but I definitely didn’t recognize it. There were other rock dignitaries around (couldn’t tell you who), because for some reason we were there for a showcase of some band. During a break I was reading medical textbooks (I don’t go to med school!) and James had a hurt look on his face since I had wandered off.  Then everyone was sitting on the floor to watch this band who was evidently famous but also really short. I know this because after I laid down on my stomach next to where James was sitting on the floor (which I don’t do since I have breasts which prohibits this sort of posture), and after he started playing with my hair (which was much longer than usual but still had the curls on the end which when I was a cute little girl were called ringlets but now as a grown woman who is the same height she was when she was 12 is called naturally wavy hair), and after I had put my hand on his leg, I commented that the band was shorter than I expected, and since I am so short I was the expert on the matter.

James then launched into a speech which included things like: although I was an “itty bitty thing” I was big on integrity (or something like that) and that I was a good example of staying true to yourself (or something like that) and that we should “bump ships” sometime. Dream me was confused about exactly what he meant by that, and then he clarified about it not meaning sex, but more like getting together to hang out.

So then suddenly I’m meeting him on a busy street for our “date” (I got the impression it was in L.A. which, since I’ve only been there once, I have no idea how I knew that), and I’ve stared into his eyes and placed my hand on his chest and told a story about how a friend and I used to watch Metallica videos and argue about who was more attractive, (which I’ve never done) and he asked who did we decide? And I said based on my gorgeous fingernail polish (Giovanna by Zoya) it was obviously me, which both dream me and dream James thought was funny, since we both laughed.

 

 

-the joke was that my friend and I were arguing over which one of us was more attractive, not which one of the Metallica band members, guess you had to be there-

And then I switched over to a Champion store, where there was a lot of merchandise on sale because they’d had a flood in the store and where I spent a lot of money on non-flood damaged clearance stuff that I would never wear or want.

 

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I never remember my dreams.  The fact that I remember this, to the point of some of the phrases that were said (bump ships?) means that I wasn’t fully asleep but rather in some half sleep half-awake state, which helps to explain why, when the alarm on my phone went off in the morning, I wanted to throw it against the wall, and yawned all the way to campus, and every time I drove by a Starbucks or a Dunkin’ Donuts or a BK I thought I really should pull in and get a coffee but never did, and wanted to shoot the tires of the car ahead of me because its gas pedal seemed to be broken. (Don’t do that at home, kids). It also might explain why when I finally pulled into a parking space and “Hail to the King” came on I thought for a moment it was Metallica, when it’s really Avenged
Sevenfold. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DelhLppPSxY

I’d say I hope I get some actual sleep tonight, but then I might miss meeting someone else.

 

 

For the day after Valentine's Day

You Foolish Men

  by Sor Juana Inés de la Cruz
translated by Michael Smith

You foolish men who lay
the guilt on women,
not seeing you're the cause
of the very thing you blame;

if you invite their disdain
with measureless desire
why wish they well behave
if you incite to ill.

You fight their stubbornness,
then, weightily,
you say it was their lightness
when it was your guile.

In all your crazy shows
you act just like a child
who plays the bogeyman
of which he's then afraid.

With foolish arrogance
you hope to find a Thais
in her you court, but a Lucretia
when you've possessed her.

What kind of mind is odder
than his who mists
a mirror and then complains
that it's not clear.

Their favour and disdain
you hold in equal state,
if they mistreat, you complain,
you mock if they treat you well.

No woman wins esteem of you:
the most modest is ungrateful
if she refuses to admit you; 
yet if she does, she's loose.

You always are so foolish 
your censure is unfair;
one you blame for cruelty
the other for being easy.

What must be her temper
who offends when she's
ungrateful and wearies
when compliant?

But with the anger and the grief
that your pleasure tells
good luck to her who doesn't love you
and you go on and complain.

Your lover's moans give wings
to women's liberty:
and having made them bad,
you want to find them good.

Who has embraced
the greater blame in passion?
She who, solicited, falls,
or he who, fallen, pleads?

Who is more to blame,
though either should do wrong?
She who sins for pay
or he who pays to sin?

Why be outraged at the guilt
that is of your own doing?
Have them as you make them
or make them what you will.

Leave off your wooing 
and then, with greater cause,
you can blame the passion
of her who comes to court?

Patent is your arrogance 
that fights with many weapons
since in promise and insistence
you join world, flesh and devil.

Retrieved from http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/21552

A Birthday by Christina Rossetti

A Birthday

  by Christina Rossetti

My heart is like a singing bird   
  Whose nest is in a water'd shoot;   
My heart is like an apple-tree   
  Whose boughs are bent with thick-set fruit;   
My heart is like a rainbow shell 
  That paddles in a halcyon sea;   
My heart is gladder than all these,   
  Because my love is come to me.   
  
Raise me a daïs of silk and down;   
  Hang it with vair and purple dyes;
Carve it in doves and pomegranates,   
  And peacocks with a hundred eyes;   
Work it in gold and silver grapes,   
  In leaves and silver fleurs-de-lys;   
Because the birthday of my life
  Is come, my love is come to me.

-Retrieved from http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19440

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43) by Elizabeth Barrett Browning

How Do I Love Thee? (Sonnet 43)

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning
                                                                 

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
My soul can reach, when feeling out of sight
For the ends of being and ideal grace.
I love thee to the level of every day's
Most quiet need, by sun and candle-light.
I love thee freely, as men strive for right.
I love thee purely, as they turn from praise.
I love thee with the passion put to use
In my old griefs, and with my childhood's faith.
I love thee with a love I seemed to lose
With my lost saints. I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life; and, if God choose,
I shall but love thee better after death.

Retrieved from: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/15384

El Beso by Angelina Weld Grimke

El Beso

by Angelina Weld Grimké

Twilight—and you
Quiet—the stars; 
Snare of the shine of your teeth, 
Your provocative laughter, 
The gloom of your hair; 
Lure of you, eye and lip; 
Yearning, yearning, 
Languor, surrender; 
Your mouth, 
And madness, madness, 
Tremulous, breathless, flaming, 
The space of a sigh; 
Then awakening—remembrance, 
Pain, regret—your sobbing; 
And again, quiet—the stars, 
Twilight—and you. 

                               


Retrieved from: http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23837

Action Poem by Helen Hoyt

Action Poem

  by Helen Hoyt

A Song to Wake Your Dear in the Morning

I kiss the locks of your hair:
Do you feel me there,
Sleepy one?

I will put a kiss on your brow:
Are you waking now?
Won't you wake, sleepy one?

A kiss on your left eye; on your right—
Closed tight, closed tight!
Oh, you are a hard one to wake!

A kiss on your nose
Where your deep breath goes,
Sleepy one!

Now a kiss for each ear:
Do you hear, do you hear?
Wake, sleepy one!

A kiss for this cheek; a kiss for this:
How many kisses you will miss!
Won't you wake?    Won't you wake?

Now I come to your lips that I love:
Oh, you are waking!    You wake and move!
Sleepy one!

Sleepy one,
My kisses are done.
Oh, you are a hard one to wake!

Retrieved from http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/23813

Wild Nights - Wild Nights! (249) by Emily Dickinson

Wild Nights – Wild Nights! (249)

by Emily Dickinson
                                                                 

Wild Nights – Wild Nights!
Were I with thee
Wild Nights should be
Our luxury!


Futile – the winds –
To a heart in port –
Done with the compass –
Done with the chart!


Rowing in Eden –
Ah, the sea!
Might I moor – Tonight –
In thee!




Retrieved from http://www.poets.org/viewmedia.php/prmMID/19039






                               

Let's talk about sex, baby.

I tried to find a poem about lust to post on my blog (what do I know about writing about lust- for that matter, what do I know about writing poetry) because it is February, the month of lust, the month of my birthday, the month in which 9 months before my parents must have felt some lust (they couldn't have fought all the time).
I wanted a poem about lust by a woman- could a man's lust be like mine? What does he feel when he's inside me, when I'm tightening around him, back when that used to happen?


But the love/lust poems are by men, or are all rights reserved, not allowed, off limits, like the beautiful people who only date beautiful people. Could I find lust on the television, in the movies, in commercials hawking beer, by watching the plastic people fake fuck other plastic people?


I looked for Sor Juana de la Cruz (the erotic nun) poems, for Emily Dickinson poems, through Elizabeth Barrett Browning sonnets. Let me count the ways in which I feel lust for thee: for thy sense of humor, thy ability to quote literature, thy dark hair and piercing blue eyes, thy manliness that is not too muscle bound. If thee existed.


Let's talk about sex, baby. Or not- Jane Austen survived, I can too. Maybe I've just been looking for lust in all the wrong places. Perhaps I should be looking for lust in the Shakespeare and Lawrence poems. In Warren, in Cummings, in Auden, in Coleridge. In ashes and dust, for fire and light, for electric charges sizzling along my veins. For twitches and moans and the taste of sweat. For sated lazy stretches of trembling muscles. For clichés and originality.


I tried to find a poem about lust to post on my blog. Preferably one that I liked.

Masked

Peach swept, chocolate lined,
pink cheeked.
Naked-lipped, nude pouty,
touch of glimmer sparkle.
Nails flamed glitter.

Masked: ready.

Off to see the pyramids,
conquer the seas,
find the Loch Ness monster,
dance on the moon, rescue every
unwanted animal, tell the truth,
write a symphony, save the forests,
knit world peace, hide in a cave,
build the invisible plane,
talk to Jane Austen,

invent a time machine to take me back to fix it all.

Valentine's Day: truth, truth, lie

truth, truth, lie

My first pony's name was Bunny

I once dated a man named Toad

I've been to the Louvre, and I loved it

Unicorns fly over rainbows to find a pot of gold

I don't mind the sun sometimes, but not a lot

A great winged purple dragon is my best friend

lie, truth, lie

truth, lie, truth

I've seen L7 concerts in three different states

I think only men should rule the universe

I once ordered a Butthole Surfers hat but they sent me a letter

that stated it was out of stock and I didn't want it anyway

The sky is the color of purple dust right now

I love the way I look when I see myself in the mirror

I don't believe in unicorns, purple dragons, and fairy tales

lie, lie, truth

(I love you)

In the dark

New beginnings, old endings
lingering synapses.
previous January centerfolds
current boxed music.
warm laps and cold feet
silver fingernail polish.

dying dreams, technicolored
fantasies, unvoiced longings.
empty resolutions sail on a couch
into the future: dodging
twinkling peppermint kisses
as they drop from the sky
at midnight.