So it is now March. I have taken a breath, and am learning this whole “don’t just sit down and write when you can’t sleep and perhaps not sound so unhinged.” This one is only a moderate exercise is rambling and will mainly be about FILM.
The downstairs flooded last night, so the shenanigans continue. I am tired. I hurt, a lot, from hauling and wringing out towels, mopping water, and crying. I’m a bit at the end of my rope here with things going wrong. But I continue to be motivated.
Love to my friend Kindle who has shared this journey of attempting to get our sparks back with me. Their writing is far better and thoughtful than mine and I appreciate the exchange. When I told them at the end of 2024 I couldn’t go on like this much longer, I had not thought I would find a stalwart companion in fighting back.
That being said, I told my manager at work that I would be entering 2025 with Big MCU Tony Stark Energy. I have been maintaining this. What does this mean? I’m not sure. Confidence to cover up my barely held together anxiety? Snarky comments? Equal levels of self-loathing? The other day, a project manager said that he “invoked (my) name during a conversation” and I found that hilarious but also a bit confidence boosting. Invoked. To summon me, one would need to lay out some cheese, a mug of London Fog, and a good book into a circle, walk widdershins three times and let out a string of curse words before saying “and fuck you and the horse you rode in on” because apparently I am “funny” when I’m frustrated.
Art is important. This is already all over the place. But anyway, art is important. It all means so much to me. There was a time I wanted to act, but then settled into not being in front of the camera because I have a real hate/hate relationship with myself I am also terrible. After taking Theater 101 my freshman year of highschool and apparently scaring the hell out of my classmates by doing a monologue from Fight Club, I decided maybe no. So I liked music better. I also discovered that learning table top roleplaying games help me scratch the itch to play and craft a story with others. Because honestly, I think all I wanted to do was play.
One of the biggest things to happen in the last few years is that I just… stopped. I stopped drawing. I stopped playing my instruments. I stopped daydreaming or trying to convince friends to do crazy art things. I stopped learning to fabricate puppets or even writing slam pieces. I turned in on myself.
I have been lucky enough to see two major long-term cinema journeys during my life. Lord of the Rings in middle school and early high school, then the Infinity Saga from Marvel. To a lot of people, these are just pop culture fluff. Untrue. The heroes journey can be found anywhere, for anyone. Captain Ahab is just as important to people as Captain America. Not only are the characters important, but the sheer teamwork and effort of making films of this magnitude is something a lot of people don’t realize. That alone is also an inspiration. I wonder, where am I in my hero’s journey as an artist?
It became an understood thing that going during opening weekend of any of these larger films would mean there would be cheering, crying and a general more expressive camaraderie. I remember the end of Return of the King, and my friends and I filling a row. A bunch punk of high school students in ripped band t-shirts and mohawks weeping while we snacked on stuff we sneaked into the theater as it was a long film. I remember the moment everyone cheered when Captain America lifted Thor’s hammer. When everyone cried as Tony Stark snapped his fingers. The cheering when the newer Muppets Movie came out and people quietly singing along to “Rainbow Connection.”
Hell, one of my favorite theater moments is when I went to see “Knives Out” with my husband and Daniel Craig as Benoit Blanc spoke for the first time, his cornpone accent a shock and a man a few rows in front of us let out a joyful “HA!” and we all started laughing.
I don’t get to go to theater productions as often as I’d like, but I enjoy those moments as well. That connection.
Last year I participated in a book club with my husband’s martial arts cohort – incidentally, their teacher (my husband’s area of study is Wing Chun and weapons) is our mutual friend Cap. We read “Shaolin Brew: Race in Comics” with a varied group of people. It was an experience to hear everyone talk about their favorite characters, what it meant to them, etc. We even had Jenny Blake Isabella (at the time she was known by the name Tony Isabella, and has since come out as herself – welcome Jenny! The Brew Crew loves you!), who is the creator of Black Lightning, a seminal comic character, come to one of our meetings to answer questions. She was so funny and we had an amazing discussion, and she is hoping to join us again. (Also – thanks Jenny for supporting my comments by saying “they did my man Tony Stark dirty in the 90’s,” yes, thank you). But a lot of our discussion was about the impact of these characters, especially in our very intersectional group. (Though we are all smitten with Luke Cage/Power Man.)
Later, we had the author of the book talk to us and he gave a high compliment, saying he wishes he had talked to a group like us before publishing the book. (Thank you, Troy, you were lovely.)
I have been reading comics since I could read. I have my favorites – Hellboy, The Maxx, Y the Last Man, Kingdom Come, Doctor Strange, The Defenders, Fantagraphics stuff like Love and Rockets – I devour anything by the Hernandez Brothers. Recently, the masterpiece My Favorite Things are Monsters. I read a lot of independent full stories or things from Dark Horse and Image. (I read “regular” books a lot too. So calm down.)
We can find ourselves anywhere and I think that seeing that reflection helps us cope.
I met my husband when I met up with some friends to see Captain Marvel. We were there to attend a pop culture art show and he was mutual friends with one of my good friends, but we had never crossed paths as he was away at school. At the end of 2024, things were pretty bleak here in my home. We talked about how excited we were for the next Captain America movie and decided that no matter how terrible things were going, we would make it a point to do a rewatch of the MCU. We would sit down, have a drink, snuggle the dog, and just try and push through.
This has ended up being a surprising self-reflective action. We talked during and after each film the same way one would talk through something selected by The Criterion Collection. (Admittedly, my coworker and I have started a semi-weekly movie night we have called Flix Not Cinema, where we watch whatever the fuck we want and will have enthusiastic discussions about movies like “Hell Comes to Frogtown” with the same gravitas.)
This is also the time when Roy told me his whole origin story. I had never heard it before. My husband is a clinician. He has worked really hard to become a doctor and our life is not glamorous. He only graduated residency a few years ago. We keep tripping over hurdle after hurdle by sheer awful luck or people in positions of power letting us down.
He originally wanted to be a surgeon. He told me he was good – very good. He enjoyed it and he was gearing up to specialize. Then he fell and broke his back. He was unable to get proper treatment – ironically because he was in med school and there was no time, money, or availability – and put it off. Barely making it through in a metal brace. Because of this, he could no longer stand for surgery.
When we were talking about the Marvel films he mentioned that he had skipped Doctor Strange and he thinks that the origin story may be why. We talked and decided to skip ahead to watch it. I ended up watching him react more than the movie. (I share this with his permission.)
As the time slowed down to show Strange’s hands smashed in the dashboard, I heard Roy take a sharp breath in. We stopped it and he took a moment and then said he could continue. He was sucked in, and I didn’t find out until the next day that he had processed his own journey. He sat down at breakfast and told me the whole story of his injury – one I hadn’t heard before. He is also a martial artist, which was something that was also largely lost to him. He said some other personal things that are not mine to tell, but the gist is he was able to prepare to face some buried stuff because of a “superhero movie.”
I had a similar experience a few weeks later with Iron Man 3. Seeing reflections of my own panic attacks on screen, the whole sub plot of “more than a man in a can,” thinking about my own experiences where I narrowly escaped losing my life… it pushed a button for me, too.
I have been in therapy for 5-6 years now. I’m not ashamed of it. If I hadn’t found my therapist, I don’t know where I would be after the multiple attacks and situations I went through. I appreciate her because we can talk about everything.
I broached the subject of the MCU rewatch, Roy’s reaction to Doctor Strange and my own to Iron Man 3. She responded with a sound of surprise.
“You’re rewatching? Me and my partner are, too!”
“Really? Fuckin serious?”
It turns out that she and her partner had near identical conversations as Roy and I had about rewatching the MCU, including whether to watch them in release order or chronological. We then used these films and characters to discuss reflections of behavior.
Yes, my incredibly accomplished and smart therapist with more letters behind her name than anyone I know used superheros to work through grief with me. We plan to continue this as we both rewatch, including The Blip later to talk about my grief.
I find myself enjoying conversations about society reflected in art and pop culture more and more. This year, I think, will be more about this sort of things for me. I have some books lined up on it – about Hong Kong cinema, Roger Corman’s empire, the sociological implications of Kaiju cinema. This is how I connect.
I’m thinking of talking to the local library about hosting a monthly film night.
Maybe Flix Not Cinema will bloom. I love getting lost in the weeds of it, and maybe a little of it is because I wanted to be a part of all of it so, so much. That worked towards it and left it behind because of things that happened to me beyond my control.
I have found more motivation as I slowly reconnect with people after burying myself in grief.
I have made a singular friend in the year we have lived here, and it turns out she is happy to be involved – including continuing to learn archery and I told her about this puppet build I wanted to do because I found it to be fun. My friend Kindle continues to be my inadvertent accountability buddy (yes, you are!) and our feedback loop of enthusiasm is helping me.
I’ve chosen a suite to learn on the piano now that I have access again, and I am picking up my bass even though it still physically hurts me and I have to go slow.
Maybe, just maybe, I can find my spark again and survive in the bedlam that is developing.
My Goodreads – the “Now Reading” is mostly accurate as my ADHD brain often wanders from book to book.
My 2024 reading was… a mood.
https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/20658107-a-dormaus?shelf=2024
https://www.goodreads.com/review/list/20658107-a-dormaus?shelf=2025
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