Give me Comics! Or give me Death!

I'm not sure if many of you that read this blog know the true depth to which I enjoy a good comic. Yes, I am a bona fide comic nerd. It's true, and I'm proud of it. For one, comics offer a different mental and educational medium. They give me a different way to enjoy a story. As much as I read books, I enjoy a well written and well drawn comic as well. I have several heroes I follow: Captain Marvel (previously, Ms. Marvel), the new Ms. Marvel (Kamala Khan, you rock!), Swamp Thing, Wonder Woman, and soon the new Spider-woman. I'm not sure if you caught the trend, but I love lady superheroes. Why? Well for one, I am a lady myself and I enjoy stories about strong women. It's not that Superman or Batman (ugh, Batman) don't have interesting stories or great artistry. I just don't enjoy the machismo. I genuinely like stories about women, all types of women. One of the reasons Swamp Thing is so appealing to me is the diversity of women (for the most part not sexualized) in the story line. Also, how can you not like Swamp Thing.
Side note: I just really have a liking for plant characters. I adore Groot from the Guardians of the Galaxy, then the Swamp Thing himself, and finally the Ents are the best part of the Lord of the Rings and you cannot convince me otherwise.
Back on topic: Marvel has done a fantastic job at updating their lady heroes, giving them excellent story lines and having a better selection of stories about their women. The Black Widow line is phenomenal and blows some of their other story lines out of the water. Ms. Marvel is a Muslim-American, trying to reconcile her new powers, desire to do good, and curfew. Captain Marvel is fighting against some tyrants. And Wonder Woman (one of the few female centered and well written heroine story lines DC has available) is now a daughter of Zeus and hated by most of the Greek pantheon. There is so much diversity here - in personality, in lives, in experience.
And that I think that is so important. Demographics should be taken into account. For one, as humans we respond to narrative, stories reach into our souls and give us some reprieve from out troublesome lives. Stories validate our experiences - because they prove that our pain, our happiness, our lives connect with something bigger. What we are feeling or experiencing is real and has happened before and well deep down we are not alone. So let's swing back to the idea that there is more than just one type of hero (white, male….).
If you look at a general line up of comic book heroes, there is a striking feature that sort leaps out at you. Batman, Superman, Iron Man, Captain America, the previous Spiderman, the Flash, Green Arrow, Dr. Holland, Dr. Reed Richards, Hawkeye, Thor, three out of four popular Green Lanterns (Guy Gardner, Kyle Rainer, and Hal Jordan), Night Wing, Wolverine, Bruce Banner have a common denominator. They are all white men ( all straight too?). I'm not saying its a problem….but when literally all of the major heroes of the Avengers or Justice League are white men it creates a lack of apathy. It's hard to create relatable stories when so many of the popular titles don't really reflect the diversity of the readers. Hey, Batman is great and all, but I don't like him. I can't relate to a rich, uber genius. Same here Iron Man. It's not that these are not well written or have bad artistry, but I have no interest in their stories. I think its hard for many minorities to really relate to these stories. I'm sure I'm wrong and I am making a sweeping generalization here, but I think it is important to add some diversity here and create good stories around them. Look at Kamala Khan as Ms. Marvel, who's story has exploded. One of Marvel's best titles currently. She's a Muslim-American. DC tried to create a Muslim-American Green Lantern who has all but disappeared from the comic book universe. You can't just create a character and then expect it to be done. Minorities have stories too.
And we need narrative to reflect our own experiences.
This was a bit of a rant and doesn't make too much sense, just a collaboration of thoughts and feelings. But as someone who enjoys reading comics, I like seeing stories that reflect my own. So yes, that's specifically stories about women. But there is such a dearth of stories that reflect the feelings and experiences of black women, latino men and women, gays, bisexuals. All us minorities need those demographic lines if only to get our foot in the door. So let's celebrate those stories in the comic industry that reflect us and clamor for more! Because we will not be silenced!

Summer Days Fading Away

buona sera!

I like my new job. It gives me free days during the week. Which means Laura can venture off to the beach unhindered by tourists! How fun. No seriously, folks, going to the beach on Wednesday is so much better during the summer, less non-Mainers to take up space. Today was perfect for the beach, too. It wasn't too hot, but not so cold the ocean was breeze was unpleasant. I went to someplace new, Crescent Beach with a friend. Oh boy, it was glorious. I know, my life isn't too exciting if a day at the beach is considered new. But I really must recommend it. Sometimes, sitting in the sunshine can be such a healing experience.
Although, I felt tired and drowsy upon leaving my little spot of sunshine, I just generally felt better about life. Beaches tend to be packed with people, but it's not a loud or noisy place. It's easy to absorb into yourself and ignore the rest of the world. The only sounds able to break the reverie are the waves moving onto the beach. The sand was soft underneath, and I could feel myself just soaking in the light. Maybe Vitamin D really is a magical cure, because even through my prevailing sadness, I could almost physically feel myself healing.
Well, maybe that was the sunburn.
I just overall enjoyed my day. I did a little reading (a couple more pages closer to finishing Vikings), took a short nap (man, naps are the best), and chatted merrily with a very good and new friend. I love making new friends. I like discovering the things we have in common and hearing their views on life and society and feminism and books or what they enjoy. I like connecting with them. I am grateful for my new friends. I am grateful for all my friends.
I know it hasn't exactly been a pleasant time for most of them to be around me, but amazingly, many of them have remained by my side and are actively helping me reach a better place. So, thank you to all my readers, friends, and most importantly, the beach. No, no, not really. But today is the day that I encourage all people to just say thank you maybe to all of those friends helping you and loving you and being there.
so thank you :) I send you all my love!

"Flags of our Fathers"

Earlier last week I started a new book, one that is somewhat unusual of a read for me. The book in question has been sitting on my shelf for a while, gathering dust with my apprehension to open it up. Flags of our Fathers by James Bradley is by no means a classic or even an extraordinary piece of art. But it is powerful nonetheless, and tells of a tragic, horror-stricken story of six young men thrown into one of the worst battles of American history. Iwo Jima.
I feel I learned much about World War II, the Pacific theater, and the United States Marines by picking up this book and delving in. Although I can say I am happy to have read this and to have experienced this story, as sad and tragic it is, I can't say I've really enjoyed the book itself.
The basics begin with six separate young men from all across America who are thrown into a bloody war. Now the narrative of these stories are constantly interrupted to explain the mechanics of war, the tragedy, the early assumptions, the devilry of the Japanese and their corrupted samurai code. The segway and flow between narrative and fact tends to be jarring, skipping from one to next in short or long bursts, making it difficult to concentrate on one section before being tossed to the next. Maybe that's part of the point, because in real life there are no simple segways between war and life, living and being dead. Maybe it's to prevent the author from becoming to engrossed and invested in a character who's ultimate fate lies in death.
Spoiler: most of the men in the story die.
Welcome to World War II, friends.
I come from a short and small background of academia, having been a history and anthropology major, there are two fundamental issues I have with this book, that has deteriorated my reading experience with this bundle of pages. For one, I am uneasy with portrayal with the Japanese. The author often calls them beasts, maniacs, bloodthirsty, minions of the Emperor. He does not give the men on the other side of the fight a forgiving picture at all. At times, he paints them as less then human. Not superior, but inferior, so inferior in fact that killing them was a mercy. Please don't take this the wrong way, the Japanese in World War II committed some horrendous atrocities, and the Rape of Nanking is one the most brutal acts of war crimes in the twentieth century. The Japanese did some horrible, terrible, atrocious things during World War II, and there is no way to safely get around them. They did some bad shit, some real bad shit. That being said now, I don't think its right to dehumanize a whole ethnic group and country. It's real convenient that Mr. Bradley forgets to add the concentration camps in America where anyone remotely Asian looking were rounded up and sent to. We can skip over that part. And well, the German death camps weren't exactly a walk in the park (to put it very crudely, I mean no offense to readers and survivors of the Holocaust), but he'll still mention that European warfare was 'polite'. Was it on the same level as some of the acts committed by the Japanese? No. But don't make the Germans into misunderstood teenagers either. There was a reason for Nuremburg trials. It bothers me that he perpetuates the idea that the Japanese are an inherently evil people. He makes them into a group of nobodies who should have surrendered early on, because it is their fault that so many American soldiers died. Yes, it was war. Yes, Americans fought against the Japanese. But, that doesn't make them a race of evil, inhuman people that need to be obliterated. The anthropologist in me is screaming, "this is the 1990s! Stop using such demeaning, biased language!" But I know I need to temper myself, that he grew up thinking this. He read accounts of Iwo Jima and met with veterans of this war, for him they probably were the devil incarnate, no matter what traditional corruptions took place.
The next little nuance I have, doesn't have to do with the book so much as the reactions I receive from others - specifically men - concerning me reading it. War has very much, for hundreds if not thousands of years, been a very male phenomenon. Little boys re-enact wartime scenarios, originally only men were drafted, and for a very long time in American history, war was only for men. I think too often this portion of society remains blockaded from women, the idea that women still need to be shielded from this kind of physical and emotion brutality. And that's why I believe women should read war stories more often. One of my favorite books of all time is All Quiet on the Western Front and there hasn't been an individual I've met who hasn't had received this recommendation from me. I think women need to read these books and one some level - although detached - experience the actions, the emotions, the struggles, and the horrors of war. Books allow anyone to enter this on a very subtle level that shouldn't be overlooked. War isn't naturally the realm of men, violence isn't an inherent masculine trait. Just like strength isn't naturally male either. Or courage. There are uplifting stories of compassion, friendship, and courage littered throughout Flags of our Fathers that can give chills to any reader. I think these are stories that shouldn't be passed around just circles of men looking for a thrill through war. Valor and honor are felt by the whole spectrum of humanity. And this part of our world's history is so often split into two sections - Rosie the Rivetor for women and soldiers for men. Why can't the World War II era be a time period that sets an example for walks of life? I understand that it can be difficult for some groups to relate. As a woman, these soldiers held a certain detachment as there gritty, raw experiences as male soldiers. Just like an African American reading this book might feel jaded that not a single African American soldier is mentioned within the pages. These aspects of our person effect our experiences through reading, media, and all other sorts of visual and mental stimulation. But in some ways, history unites on little levels. and reading this book is one of those small levels.
Well, maybe this isn't much of an argument, but it is what it is. These are my thoughts. I recommend to you this book, although it should be taken with a grain of salt, if nothing else. 

Take a Deep Breath, then Make the Plunge

I am excited for this up-coming year. It's that simple. I have made so many new friends in the past three months, that even when some people have made the choice to walk out of my life, I need not worry about loneliness. I have a new job, that will bring with new possibilities for creativity and new ways of interaction. I have a new apartment with a wonderful woman, and only good things will happen here. I'm hoping that I am finally walking out of the darkness I was in and back into the light. Good things are happening.
I accept your apology universe.
Or maybe, I finally stopped focusing on people and events and things I shouldn't. I'm slowly ridding myself of the negativity in my life. I'm shedding the old skin, the old self. I'm not in college anymore. I am a college grad (how awesome is that?), I just completed a year of AmeriCorps and have volunteered at some other awesome places (Maine Maritime Musuem anyone?), and have met some absolutely life changing people. I have a new job and new friends and new favorite places to eat and drink and hang out. I've discovered hiking, which is probably my new favorite activity. Besides reading. And writing. I just got published folks! Yes, little ole' me! Here, please check it out if you haven't!
Laura's First Published Article

I think its amazing that sometimes just randomly starting a conversation with someone can lead to meeting the most brilliant people. People who end up changing the way you think, showing you different ways of living and thinking. I've met people who really seem interested in me and like me.
New adventures await for me, and I'm heading towards them with my head held high. I can't believe all the amazing opportunities that have opened up for me and I am so grateful to have this chance. This is the start of something new for me, and I need to assuage my fears and jump right in.
I know this may sound a bit like my previous post, and maybe it is. But today, I'm feeling so exuberant over all the wonderful things headed my way. I'm excited for this new start and how completely life changing it is!
I cannot do more than encourage anyone reading this to keep your chin up, because I promise you it gets better. Just as terrible as my life got to be sometimes in the past year, I found myself at a new place. And here I am. I'm not waiting to begin my life anymore, I've grabbed the reins and really propelled myself to something better. Life is here and I'm ready to enjoy every minute of it.

Loving you, Loving me

As I sit watching The Wolverine  on this muggy Monday afternoon, I am also thinking. Well, not that's anything new, I'm always thinking. The last few weeks have been a complete upheaval for me, both emotionally, mentally, and with all these beginnings in my life. Life is crazy, especially mine. My life is never boring, and geez I feel bad for some of those who are along for the ride. Back to the original thought, lots of changes, and for the most part, all of them are good changes. Or leading to better things. I like to think they are. Always be positive, Laura, keep that chin up.
I recently lost someone who played a very keen role in my life, someone who meant very much to me. We've grown apart, had some ups and downs, and now, no matter how painful it is, have gone separate ways. I miss this person very dearly, but after three weeks of intense thinking, I realize this is best for both of us. Our lives are going in vastly different directions and as much as I miss him as a companion, lover, and friend, there are better things awaiting us both.
That doesn't mean there isn't a void where he once was, or that sometimes I don't cry a bit. I miss him, I do. Our time is done, and we've done what we could for each other. I am grateful to have spent the time with him that I did, and happy to have these memories. Sure, they sting a bit. Sure, it sucks. But this type of change, this type of new beginning, although scary, is such a good thing. It opens up the mind, the heart, the soul for new people, new hobbies, new places, and new adventures. The pain is a part of those new adventures; it is a part of the lesson I have learned. I hope to endow you with some of this, all the while realizing that sometimes lessons like these need to be learned first hand, as much I hate to think that others will go through what I have.
For a long while, I used to think the only reason I smiled because he was in my life. I used to believe so ardently my happiness derived from my relationship with him. Happiness and him were one and the same. But when we broke up and with the mistakes afterwards, I worried that I would never smile again. Makes sense, right? Probably not, but just roll with me here. I thought I could never find someone who made me smile like he did. How could they? I was so scared that I lost my happiness along with my relationship. It took me fourteen months and another heart break to realize that, quite frankly, that just ain't so.
I make my own happiness. It cannot come from another person. That it isn't from one person I derive my happiness, but instead my relationships with other people. It comes from the love between me and my grandmother, the laughter shared with my mother, and the debates between me and my roommates. It comes from the new people I've met, like my office mate who listens to me everyday and share life stories with. It comes from meeting new people and families that have irrevocably changed my life. It comes from the experiences and words and shared looks between myself and friends. It comes from the hobbies I love. It comes from the books I read. It is found in my writing. It is here that I find my happiness, my smiles, my contentment. It is not from another person. And I shouldn't make it all one person either.
Because people can hurt. Sometimes, not often, but sometimes, people will walk from your life no matter the damage they leave in their wake. And that damage can crack your life into pieces, mar your happiness. And yes, that happens. And yes, life can be really horrible. But that's…that's just life and the universe and the world and society. Shit just happens. Just like that. People change, people stop feeling what they used to feel, people want different things. And I, as a simple person, can do nothing to change that. I can only change myself, adapt myself. I can only rise above that which I have no influence over, and grow instead. I am only a seed, carried with the flood. I can use the rainwater to grow or to drown. I think you can tell which one I choose.
I discovered that I focused on one person. I put so much time and effort into one single individual, I lost myself. I forgot those around me in my ill fated quest to change something I couldn't. And in the end, I lost what I thought I wanted and discovered the new path for me. I need to be honest with everyone, I am an extrovert. If you look up the meaning in a dictionary, I'm sure its my picture you find next to the definition. For real. So for me to constantly to focus only on one individual, I wasn't being true to myself. I need to surround myself with people. I thrive off being social. And that's what I've really learned. My happiness comes from being social with people: talking to, helping, loving, spending time with, laughing with, cooking and eating with, crying with. It's not about the one, but the many.
And it has been the support, love, reassurance, and care of those around me that have helped me so. As I have said, I am grateful to my past relationship. I can honestly say when I met him, I was one Laura who needed what he offered and freely gave me at the time. In our five year stint, I left one me behind and he help mold a better, more confident and self loving person. And that is something I can smile over. Now I leave that version behind and look forward to spending time with this new woman, this new version of me. This version is wiser - don't worry I'm still funny- and knows a little bit more about life than before.
I wish it was that simple to learn. I know its not. I was warned and didn't listen. But I will not stay down for long. I'm pretty resilient for someone so short, not that height really has anything to do with this. I'm looking forward to the new things I have in store: a new job, a new apartment, and a new roommate. I guess that's all I have to offer, folks. I offer you my story. I won't lie to you, sometimes people will hurt you. Sometimes people love you and leave you. But we need to accept that. We need to accept that we just don't have that kind of control, and we only have control over ourselves. We make our choices, bad and good. Don't give up hope, don't give up in general. Life is terrible sometimes, but you're not alone. No matter how alone you feel. Life is life. People are unexpected and weird. No really, people are weird. 
And here is a random shot of the Maine shoreline.