A Brief Overview of Guy Girl Stuff

Through a variety of new meda—blog comments, IM—I've been discussing The Girlfriend from high school with a buddy of mine from the time.

I spent more of my time then pining about girls than actually asking them out. I've talked about this before, that I was a devotee to what I call the "Venus Complex." Girls were vaunted creatures high on their marble pedestals. I'd be lying if I said I was completely cured. I like to think it's a more "mature" point of view now. I love the "womanness" of a woman. I revel in the feminine. I remain, however, in essence, a romantic at heart.

To get quickly to the point, there was a comfort there that I've never experienced again. I think we "knew" each other. Defined: she had a better awareness of who I was than any girl I've ever dated (granted, we were 18, not that much of me to know). She was quick to call BS, but our conversations were fair. Openness and communication. All memories strain through a filter—this one surely idealized—but this is what I remember.

I talk about this here, in this post, because people who read the blog have talked to me about relationships.

Do you want to know what I want? To be "known." That's what.

There's safety there, I think, for me at least. And it certainly is not a one way street. I want to know her too. There will be a messiness to it, as there is in all human activity. I like the idea of two lives open and intertwined.

Which, I am sure, is an idealized notion too, or with some spit shine on it at least.

Surprising Stock for Such a Teensy Town

When I was a kid I lived in Haskell, Texas. A dust covered cotton town in west Texas on your way to more dust covered towns. My father had chosen the mental health field out of college, and before discovering a man could not feed his family helping the mentally retarded, we moved around.* We ended up in places like Haskell, Texas.

We arrived sometime in my second grade year of elementary school and stayed a couple of years before moving on. I remember the town fondly. Even after being gone for several years it was a touchstone in my mind, someplace I would return to. An idealized utopia of a school grade boy. (Even now, it sneaks into my dreams.)

There are several moments that stand out in my mind when thinking of Haskell. First time to see a soccer ball (literal first contact being in my groin**). Walking to the downtown record store to buy my first LP, Dolly Parton's "Nine to Five." When my third grade teacher took away my pen, a candy cane shaped item that smelled of cinnamon. Hitting a teacher with a rock casually tossed over my shoulder. Being released to recess in dust storms that were a literal wall of dirt.... Actually, I have LOTS of memories. But there is one place I'd like to stop and talk about.

There was a five-and-dime downtown. Crammed with the various odds and ends those sorts of stores were before the Walmartization of retail.

They had a toy section I loved to hang out in. I had always thought it was probably a non-descript toy section. Ends up, they were stocking some serious stuff.

These guys, for one:



Shogun Warriors. OMG Those guys were awesome! Made of metal. Chock full of air passage blocking tiny parts. Spring loaded fists that launched with a touch of a button. In other words, they would never sell these to kids with today's toy safety laws. They were awesome. (Did I already say that? It's because they were.) As I take a stroll down memory lane, I would never consider trying to pick one up on Ebay. Them's are pricey.

I expected them to be expensive. I figured they were the cream of the crop of the toy section's stock. And while they were certainly up there, I was surprised when I found this:



ANOTHER robot from my robot centric childhood. This one rolled around in the fog of my memory. He didn't do much, just rolled. And I think his fist shot off too. I ran across him on Ebay.

"Holy cow! That's the robot! ...and he's expensive!"

Turns out he was made by Ideal. He was from a line called "Zeroids." His name is Zobor.

Of course, there is lots that make a toy expensive on Ebay. One being their scarcity. That aside, it proves the little five-and-dime in middle-of-nowhere Haskell, Texas did more than just sell toys. They REPRESENTED, yo.

So, here's to the toy store of my childhood. Thanks for populating my childhood with top-notch playthings. I raise my Dixie cup of Kool-Aid to you.

* After he became a pharmaceutical salesman, we still moved around. Just to nicer and nicer places.
** Really.

Aloha

First of all, I have it on good authority that this is called a "post"
not a "blog." The blog, I have been told, is what this page is. A post
is an entry to a blog. I have a friend who is very persnickety about
this sort of thing. She just wants to be sure everyone knows. Of
course, it may not really matter with the Twitters of the world in
full effect. Who wants to actually write or write anything more than
140 characters?

------

At dinner with friends we were all talking about the horrible dreams
we'd had Sunday night. Weird, over the top kinda dreams. I have an
ongoing struggle with Sunday night sleep, so I wasn't completely
surprised to toss and turn, but even my dreams were weirder than normal.

It was pointed out there is a full moon. Then someone else pointed out
there's a lunar eclipse tonight. Perhaps the craziness can be
attributed to that.

-----

Posting activity has been low as of late. The deadline upon deadlines
keeps me just this side of Can Get it All Done. Of course, the blog
would not be very exciting. "Today I worked until one. Exhausted."
Over and over and over.

-----

Two weeks until Comic Con. Have to wrap up the final details and ship
everything off this week. Also have to knock out 28 pages of comic
book roughs by next Monday. This is my life.

1 down, 15 to go

I finished my book for Comic Con last night and sent it to the printer.

Here's the cover:



Here's a sample page:



I got an ISBN for it so if it's a flop at the con it can be a flop on Amazon too.

Rest up on the weekend and then back on to con stuff and the second graphic novel for Stone Arch books.

No rest for the wicked, they say. I must be very evil.

At What Cost?

This weekend was my 20th high school reunion. Ever since it had been announced a year ago, I had planned to go. After renewing communication with several people on Facebook, I was really looking forward to it.

Then I got the table at Comic Con.

Coming out of a deadline on a graphic novel, I didn't have much time to regroup.

Forms, and details, and more details piled up on each other as the requirements and smaller deadlines for the con came in.

Weeks shuffled by like days, hours, and I found myself pressed up against a no-options press deadline.

"Finish the book and go to Comic Con. Or go to the reunion."

One or the other.

Not both.

I chose the deadline.

I chose the deadline because I am working and building something here.

This is what I tell myself, at least.

At the end of this weekend, after texts from my friends that went, and pictures of people who are still some of my favorite people I have ever known, my mantra is wearing a bit thin.

"I can't. I have a deadline. I am building something." Has cost me time with my family, time with my friends, and maybe even my dating life.

"I'm building something," I have chanted for three years as my life slips by.

"I'm building something," and now my regret finally has a face, people I could have reconnected with, memories and laughter not shared or made.

At this moment, I am mad.

Comic Con.

It is my hope that big things could happen there. I have found the most direct way to get what you want is to put yourself in the path of people who can give it to you. Those kind of people will be there.

However, I have to be aware that this is just another convention. Just another place to sell t-shirts and my prints and my book. I also have to be happy if that is the only outcome.

Comic Con is also a place for memories, friends will be there. I might make some new ones. So that's good too.

But what did I sacrifice this weekend so I could go?

Was it worth it?

Will it be?

Man. I hope so.

...and now that that's out of my system.

I knocked out 14 pages this weekend!

The book will be wrapped by its deadline. (I think it's going to be good.)

I am totally stoked about the Con.

Not Going

I am not attending my 20th high school reunion.

I actually wanted to go, but

1) My book for Comic Con is not ready.

and

2) It has to go to the printers beginning of next week and I need more time to get it done.

The book is not ready for a myriad of reasons.

1) All of them I have to raise my hand and take responsibility for.

or

2) None of them are my fault. I would be going if I had a secretary.

3) She's fired.

(What other time bombs is she not taking care of for me?)

But, here I am, not attending, and all of those reasons are moot.

There is, however, a nice upside. Going would have probably sent me into an existential tail spin.

Now

1) I won't.

2) With all that's going on, I don't have time for one anyway.

and

BONUS: You won't have to read about it.

After talking to m@, there is some question if reunions are even necessary in this Facebook age.

I am pals (again) with most of the people I would want to see. Knowing their details, and having had

1) Seen them.

2) Missed their coming to my town or my coming to their town, with promises made for "next time you're here!"

It makes the reunioning seem extraneous.

It would have been good, however, to have had them all in one place.

1) Pat a few backs.

2) Hug a few shoulders.

But

1) The potential for awkward "I was completely in love with you!" type confessions is greatly reduced.

2) Connections that should not be reconnected will not be connected.

My slogan for this weekend is,

"Not revisiting my past so I can build my future!"

I'm making t-shirts.

For me, creating takes a lot of energy.

There's an actual effort I expend when I am drawing. I am never so aware of it as I have been in the past few weeks. I am somewhere new. I've never expended myself to this degree. Sitting at my table, putting down the table. Like maxing out on a weight bench, "I just don't have it."

I don't get to "not have it" though. Deadlines don't give you an option. You have to get it done.

I've slowed to a crawl, reserving my energy and my effort. Instead of knocking out a stack of pages a night, I finish a few. No room for stress. Little room for anything else but the book. A phone who's battery is low and there's no charger, using it only when you have to, hoping it doesn't die on you.

The Rufus book exists in a constant state of flux. I had ideas, not a manuscript, and so I draw the page, working it out as I go. It's not the ideal way to do it. I am happy with the results, but I am aware they are all first draft ideas. That is good enough for now. The pages are the best comic book pages I've ever done. Rufus is the best he's ever been.

The book for Comic Con will be wrapped in the next week. (It has to go to the printers.) It is the major piece of the puzzle, but there will still be plenty to do.

I am happy, in the midst of it all. Pleased to have the opportunities. Ready, though, to break on through to the other side.