When you were a child, did you play make believe by yourself? Did you have secret games, with intricate rules, that you refused to share with or explain to anyone?
I did. Mine was called Butterfly. Here is how I played it:
I’m really loving playing around with ink and washes, despite my previous adherence to technical pens only. My apologies to my friend Danielle, who has been trying to get me on the ink and brush bandwagon for years.
The book I’m reading is Milk and Cookies: a Frank Asch Bear Story, by Frank Asch. It wasn’t my favorite book, but I read it often. The house in the book reminded me of my Great Grandparent’s house, which I loved dearly. There was also a monster, which never hurt.
My friend Angela wrote about her childhood favorite graphic novels on her blog and it reminded me about the kind of stuff I liked to read when I was little. I’m titling this post “My favorite comics” instead of “my favorite graphic novels” because: a) I like the term “graphic novel” about as much as I like the term “magical realism” (which is another post for another time.) and b) the majority of these are going to be comic strips from the Sunday paper.
I took an art class in seventh grade. We spent all of one day on cartooning and I absolutely loved it. I loved the big white board cartoonists worked on, I liked how expressive cartoons could be with very few lines, I loved how well they lend themselves to comedy. Newspaper Cartoonist became number one with a bullet on my “What I want to be when I grow up” lists, far above astronomer, artist and even writer. I had serious Calvin and Hobbes vs. Peanuts discussions.
Here is what little me looked forward to reading the most.
Cathy was genuinely my favorite comic for a while. When reading Cathy I thought “So this is what being an adult woman will be like.” Bikini angst. Shoulder pads. unfulfilling jobs. milquetoast boyfriends. hobbies: shoes, chocolate, nothing else. You lied to me, Cathy. I am so glad you lied to me.
Those apple-slice eyes are the bomb, though.
This comic has everything: an idiosyncratic art style, surrealism, dark humor, and cows.
On the rare occasions my brother and I could get our mom to buy us copies of Nickelodeon magazine, I would flip straight to the back in order to read Jeff Smith’s Bone. Why did I like it? It is weird. There are these weird things with the last name Bone, and a girl, and her grandmother, and they go on adventure, and there are these cows. Bone combines my love of oddball protagonists, humor, and sprawling fantasy epics.
I read this on several occasions, huddled up in the back of the library (where they kept the most shameful of books- comics and pulp science fiction novels.) I didn’t know what to think of this then. This book was nothing like my beloved newspaper strips. It makes the list because the narrative was so well done that I kept reading it even after I reached the conclusion that I should probably wait until I’m older to read it.
I still don’t know what to think of this one.
It does say as a kid and a teen up there, so I guess I will pick a favorite from that strange time in high school when I actually read superhero comics.
I watched the old Adam West and Burt Ward Batman on TVLand with my dad. I grew up with Nipple Suit Batman. My brother and stepdad were reading all the dark, edgy comics like Watchmen and Frank Miller’s anything. My mom picked up Wonder Woman and anything by Gail Simone. I read along with them, but none of these grown ups in spandex taking themselves seriously spoke to me.
The Tick spoke to me. Justice League International spoke to me. The Great Lakes Whatevers spoke to me. It’s like Squirrel Girl opines: “comics are supposed to be fun.”
Fun doesn’t mean childish. Fun doesn’t mean meaningless. As much as I love Squirrel Girl, teenage me related most to Big Bertha. As supermodel Ashley Crawford, all anyone cared about was her looks. As larger than a house, morbidly obese Big Bertha, citizens tell her “why couldn’t I have been saved by a hot superhero?” All she wants in either body is for people to notice her for what she can do, not what she looks like. What teenage girl can’t relate?
(yes I know about The Unbeatable Squirrel Girl. yes I am super excited to check it out. Between that and Lumberjanes I might have to start my first comic subscription.)
Virgo: Where did you put your car keys? They are in your hand. Every time you ask, they are in your hand.
A week ago Fred and I went on a long walk. We were to meet up with a group of people I barely knew and go on a hike. We were 15 or so minutes late and I couldn’t find them. We were next to a grocery store that was hosting an outdoor concert. A band was playing some Italian music. We stayed to listen, even though it was so crowded we had to move three times before finding a good spot.
A couple of months ago, I wouldn’t have had the energy to spontaneously watch a concert after failing to get to the meeting spot on time. Months before that, I wouldn’t have gone to such a crowded place. A few years ago, I would have been to scared to go on a hike with a new group of potential friends.
Getting my Master’s degree seems like a molehill compared to what I accomplished then.