No comics before bed

To continue the theme here, I got into reading comic books in about 6th or 7th grade.  The aforementioned friend of mine, Tracy, and I both began collecting Xmen and Wolverine. I was intrigued by the stories of course but I think what drew me in was the superhero powers in the characters and then, the brevity of each comic, followed by the anticipation of waiting for the next issue to come out. I got 20 bucks allowance each month. Tracy and I went to comic book shops and shows in the mall and blew it all on comics. I remember trying to hunt down Uncanny Xmen #256 – the first appearance of Gambit. I still have it. Along with a large box of everything I ever collected. Though the interest waned at one point – and I had no friends into the same thing – I always went back and read the good issues (Wolverine #50, Xmen #8). For years we waited and wanted in vain for an Xmen movie. Until 2000. I am sorry to say that they sort of effed with cannon – a lot. But in general, the movies were OK. I am excited for Wolverine in May. But anyway, I started reading some Batman graphic novels that I am borrowing from a friend. I read some more of it around midnight and I had to put it down when Superman showed up in a very ridiculous scene including a flowery field and a horse. But anyway, I had a few dreams last night. Here’s how I recorded it this morning, as it still haunted my brain, causing me to have a pretty tough time coming around. Does that ever happen to you? My brain is so caught up in the realness of the dream that it can’t come to and focus. This morning, Elliot woke up with his eyes completely crusted shut due to – as it turns out – pink eye. But anyway, onto the dream(w/ minimal editing to give you the best gist):

The portion of my dream in which I was on Batman’s side are fuzzy; it’s as if I were following him around, sort of like the new “Robin” in Frank Miller’s Dark Knight Returns. Suddenly though, I was one of at least a hundred people lined up along the perimeter of a large dark room we  were being held hostage by the joker. Not the movie Joker and not the comic joker but one in between. He was almost attractive in a slightly boyish way. He tested us, prodded, asked people about their families and some kind of mocking way. We were there a long time. Sometimes, people would disappear – you knew they were dead. At some point, there was a breakout and we were in a courtyard near tall office buildings. I was running from police (?) and I hid on my side, in the fetal position, in the middle of  a square bush. I knew that the joker would not kill me, for there was something between us. I watched people die all around me, flesh torn up by bullets. A hefty man was standing over me, another hostage, and as he fell dead, I did not move, but left him lying on top of me as a decoy. I was saved.

The next part, The Joker was going to let people go. Or something. We were all moving in a line to a tall building, where only I knew he was going to kill them all. But he and  I were standing in this line, my arms around him, our faces close. He kept saying how he knew there was something different about me and I told him how I had seen the same thing. (A  little reminiscent of Harley Quinn, no?) Neither of us could understand it but at that moment, as the line ended and he had to go, I knew he was setting me free. It was a bittersweet goodbye because I looked up and saw – of all people – Superman, and I’d never see Joker again. I  walked away thankful to be alive but sad with the knowledge it was over. I got into an elevator and went up 5 floors, seeing each one pass through a slight crack in the door as I climbed higher. And whe the doors split open to a large office with glass windows all around, I felt alone and empty, and woke up.

Pretty weird right? So tell me, do you dream about the last thing you’ve read at night? What’s the strangest media related dream you’ve ever had?

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Middle school = good blog fodder

So when I went home this past weekend, I was given a box of old things my sister saved before she chucked everything in an old closet. There was a random smattering of items inside which included but was not limited to: issues of People magazine’s 50 Most Beautiful People from 1992- 1997, old Birthday/Christmas cards from everyone, pictures of celebrities I must have liked, paint brushes, old sketch books, homework from Anatomy and Physiology, short assignments from Creative Writing, and much more. It wasn’t only stuff from middle school but it had some letters that two of my best friends had written to me. Tracy and Jamie and I wrote letters like fiends. You’d think we didn’t even DO homework or PAY ATTENTION in class. Truthfully, I was THAT kid who didn’t need to study. We all got ridiculously good grades regardless. Hence our boredom. I was going to reproduce a couple letters that Jamie and I exchanged but they were a bit too, well, graphic in an embarrassing sort of way. Like, in the way 8th graders hear the word “hard” and giggle. But I scanned in this one, from Tracy in about 7th grade.

old-letterSlightly bigger if you click; WordPress is restraining my size here.

This gives you an idea of the strangeness of 8th grade girls, though I have much better examples. My favorite part of any letter was the P.S.’s This included the initials of all the guys we liked. Above you’ll see Christian Slater, Robert Patrick (don’t remember who the second one was – note   the “squared”), Sean Patrick Flannery, Emilio Estevez, and a few I can’t remember. Though, I remember not condoning RDA – that would be Richard Dean Anderson; Macguyver. At one point I know Laser from American Gladiators was on our list too.  Note the “Gambit”. We omitted Wolverine, as he was mentioned again later on. We were total comic nerds and deeply shipped the Wolverine/Jubilee pairing. It may be silly but I read this and want to say, “See? We were total Wolverine fans way before they ever made Xmen and now, the Wolverine movie coming in May. But that’s the immature side of me, the one who is still that 8th grade girl crazy about boys and all things teenager.

I would say it’s embarrassing to admit all this but it’s almost like a was a different person then. I am not ashamed of who I used to be, though this used to be the case.

So, what kinds of memories do you have that seemed relatively embarrassing but you have now gotten over?

P.S. Stay tuned for my next entry in which I explain why I should not read comics before bed.