Tag: Ammo

Brand New Day – Week 3 – Caught Between the Bell Curves

It’s Thursday night. I want to knock out a post before I get to bed; I’m going to Queens Comic Con tomorrow with Kenney Broadway and Chaos Mechanica. It’s an outing that was pretty exciting until I 8PM hit earlier and I realized that I somehow didn’t get anything done for my book today.

I know that’s not exactly fair—I made business cards today. And edited a few of next week’s posts. And worked out my schedule for Comic Con. And worked a bit on my big contribution to this year’s Con (a post for Infinite Ammo that’s still incredibly unfinished considering how complicated it’ll be to execute [thankfully Darth Healthcare {we’re just full of code names on that site} volunteered to help, but even the third of its writing portion, which I started months ago, is still unfinished and needs a ton of tweaking]). Still though, the goal was to roll out of bed, lay down on my couch and do that weird thing where I brainstorm by staring up at the ceiling (and maybe dozing off) to figure out exactly how the next chapter is supposed to work (which always leads to me crossing out the first few pages I get from the brain storming session and rewriting them later, after I discover the way the chapter should really go while doing something as unrelated as, say, petting a cat [as far as efficiency is concerned, it’s about as roundabout a way of writing as using brackets within brackets to steer myself away from a point {I swear I’ll stop this now}]). I was set to wake up and write just as I was ready for this whole Brand New Day thing to be relatively simple.

Relatively, as in I knew it would still be hard, yes. But I didn’t know I’d have so much work to do for Infinite Ammo that I’d realize the sun went gone down and wonder where the time went on a daily basis.

It doesn’t help that I feel determined to be unhappy; when I’m home, I wish I was outside. When I’m hanging out with friends, I wish I was out walking (I have a weird thing with taking walks and traveling), or home writing. And it’s not like I’m ungrateful or don’t want to hang out with my friends, I just want to do everything at once and I can’t. It’s really frustrating. Now that Chaos Mechanica and I have made a site that’s still going strong and has gotten nearly 3,500 hits, it’s lost its professional luster; all that there is for me is finishing this novel and possibly starting other ventures I’ve considered lately. There’s now a gratification curve to what I do, which, now that I say it, is possibly the same reason why I probably don’t feel completely gratified when I hang out; it’s not that the people I spend time with are lame or unfulfilling friends. It’s that… Well, you’ve probably loved someone so much that you didn’t know what to do when it didn’t work out with them, no matter how hard you tried.

Well, I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m caught between the bell curves and it’s a silent kind of unhappy that I try not to talk about to anyone. I want to finish more of this book every week. And I love her and miss her so much that I’m writing about it on my blog like this is high school.

Okay. Deep breath. One of those problems I can fix. The other I can ignore.

It’s time for bed; I can brainstorm/write on the train (where, oddly enough, I do my best drafting). I can spend a few hours at this Queens Comic Con, meet up with other friends afterward, hopefully go to Occupy Wall St. like I’ve wanted to. All of that is important.

One day at a time.

Saying My Goodbyes

This isn’t going to be another extremely bleak post; despite the title, I’ve decided that it won’t because, although I still stand by everything I said in Preparing for the Storm (despite how embarrassingly true all of it was), I’m determined to not be as depressed as I was when I wrote that post.

Today’s my last day at Borders at Columbus Circle. Not because I’ve been fired or found a new job; it’s the last day that our store will stay open. Tonight, coworkers have another night of drinking planned, but when I wake up tomorrow, it’s time to get to work.

The thing is, the more pressing matter for me isn’t the work because I’m more excited for that than anything else; seriously, I was approved for a Press Pass to Comic Con earlier this week because of my work on Infinite Ammo, and with that I felt so insanely validated that I’m suddenly absolutely certain I’ll be able to handle this insane, 6 month deadline I’ve assigned myself.

What’s bothering me now is that it’s the last day at Borders; what would happen today only sank in last night when an old coworker of mine, Bill, left. He’s an older man with a great sense of humor, but always kind of gruff; he would do his job and only talk to you to poke fun or make bitter jokes about Borders. He also always left without saying anything to anyone. But yesterday, his shift ended at nine and he didn’t just slip out. I didn’t understand why at first, but when I realized he was giving out hugs, it occurred to me that I’d never see Bill again; he was leaving and he wouldn’t be at any of the parties or dinners. We wouldn’t be forced into the same place ever again for any reason.

We each live with our own cast of characters, their closeness to us determined on their level of development (round or flat). It’s not that some people are more interesting than others; it’s that only some are comfortable enough around us to show us who they really are. And it’s when these people step off-stage, their parts finished, that it hurts the most. Whether it’s time or not–and usually, it feels like it’s not–these people have to move on to someone else’s stage to be watched and loved.

When Bill was leaving, it made me realize that it would be like that for everyone; unlike any other place I’ve ever worked, Borders was full of round characters. Because unlike any other place I’ve ever worked, we let ourselves be charmed and charming. I’m not saying everyone was awesome, but nearly everyone made their mark and said their words and gave us their moments and now, today, the last of us would have the stage pulled from under us. Tomorrow, and very suddenly for me, we would all be missing our scene.

And no, it’s not like we can’t make new ones; I, for one, am amazing at making scenes wherever I go. : )

But it’s an incredible understatement to say I will miss everyone I’ve worked with at Borders at Columbus Circle. Unfortunately, it’s completely impossible to also explain the countless reasons why and thank everyone responsible. If you worked with me, if you were my friend, then thank you. Thank you for contributing to one of the best work experiences of my life. And if I haven’t heard from you in a while, please feel free to text me or write because I bet I miss you (I do that pretty easily).

If I don’t know you, well, thank you for reading this love letter anyway. And thank you for being a witness to this very serious turning point in my life.

Now, I’m heading to my last day at Borders. Tonight, party. Tomorrow, the real work begins.

Preparing for the Storm

Before I get into my thoughts, I wanted to thank everyone who liked The Turning Point. I usually don’t get a lot of attention here in my small corner of wordpress (especially since all of my entertainment posts went over to Infinite Ammo) so getting likes from four people (avelainegauvin, mavisephaneuf, arienneflamand, and, of course, chaosmechanica) at once was really awesome. Especially after the kind of post The Turning Point was. Really, thank you.

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It’s not rare now that I think about what’s coming: the unemployment, the insane attempt to finish War of Exiles in six months, the possibly too depressing trips down memory lane that I intend to take (among which there are already places where I still won’t venture). I thought, particularly, about the last item, the trips, and how I would relate them here to everyone who reads this blog. And I realized that they would be hollow if I wasn’t more honest with all of you than I’ve ever been here. It made me realize that there were a lot of things about myself that I had to say, all of them very honest, none of them uplifting:

  • I’m not a happy man. My facebook comments are always extremely cheerful jokes. I try, at work, in the face of the impending liquidation, to be a source of morale for others. I’m always, unless provoked, polite to people in public. None of that means I don’t stop smiling the moment everyone I know is out of eye shot. My most honest emoting happens when I get home and remain absolutely stoic with my family, who, having lived with me for a long time, do not ask questions about it, a fact that I appreciate because I stopped feeling like I could share things with anyone a long time ago. There’s no question that this is not healthy, but then, there’s no question that I’m an unhealthy person. I would love to say that this is solely out of a desire to not burden anyone with my problems, but I’d be lying. I don’t tell anyone anything about myself because among all of the places I’ve been, I’ve lost the ability to tell anyone everything. I’ve lost the ability to trust.
  • I’m poor. I’m not going to pretend that I go out into the streets and ask for spare change, or that I’m not indoors now, writing this on a computer that I paid for a year or so ago. But since, my prerequisites for lunch have become having enough change in my room for a bagel and finding something edible tucked away from the days when I wasn’t going to be out of a job in a few weeks. I completely understand that there are far, far worst ways to live. But, suddenly, I don’t have any solid clothing to wear; I don’t own shirts without stains or holes. Or shoes with soles. And now, it’s too late to buy any; up until now, I’d somehow just rode this near-poverty wave, coasting on the fact that I always had my credit card and could just go and buy things without worrying because, “I’m getting paid this Friday anyway.” And, hey, maybe I’d finally open a bank account then?… Maybe it’s silly, but there are those little things that make you feel happy and secure and all of those things are suddenly falling out of reach for me. I have to wonder how many steps before being out on the streets this is.
  • I don’t believe in love anymore, which I did not realize until very recently. This may sound silly, but I held the concept in very high regard until I realized the idea of it had turned into something completely unlike what it was supposed to be. Because of this, I’m suddenly unfeeling despite being single. I’ve had crushes and confessed to them, one way or another, and then, the moment when they replied with a smile, the moment they flirted back or casually deflected the compliment, I’ve stopped feeling anything for them. I’ve since stopped trying to make myself feel something I can’t.
  • I have a very hard time letting go of the past. I don’t sit in my room and dwell on things. I don’t stalk people I no longer talk to or even think to ask about them when I speak to people who may know them. But I do remember, and, remembering, regret or rage, as is appropriate. I don’t know if anyone else does this or if I’m normal; it’s been a very long time since I assumed I was normal. What I do know is that it’s one of the myriad things that I hate about myself and wish I could stop doing—a thing I realize I could stop doing if I had a life outside of this room when not at work. If, today, I’d met a friend and walked around New York to check out the damage done by Hurricane Irene; if, perhaps, I’d been at a party last night and woken up somewhere that wasn’t my home; or if I’d even just spent time at a friend’s house and watched hurricane related movies, I would not be here writing this. I would not be here thinking. But I am. And for the next few months, I nearly always will be.
  • Among all of this is the point I’ll leave you with. I understand from being told that I’m a great person—people tell me they appreciate how proactive and creative I am, or women tell me I can have anyone I want, or that I’m super cute—but believing any of this is so hard for me that it’s a perpetual kind of impossible; even after I’ve begun to believe it, I can revert in a heartbeat and no longer find any charming curves in the face in the mirror, nor any wit in the set of its teeth, so suddenly yellow and ill-at-ease. And even at these times, I understand that I must be wrong, but simple facts keep me from feeling it: I’ve never completed anything, I’m poor, and I’m alone.

I know that this will change when I finish War of Exiles and get it published, when I get a tattoo to commemorate that achievement, which can never be taken from me, and when I can again afford to meet people and spend time with them. I absolutely know it will.

But I’m suddenly terrified I’ll never make it to that point.

Infinite Ammo

The weeks since my last post, “The Turning Point”, have been pretty hectic. Work is, naturally, depressing, and afterward home is—more so than before—a constant effort to get as much professional work done as humanly possible.

Why “more so than before”? Because directly after “The Turning Point”, I rallied Chaos Mechanica to start on that new gaming/comics/nerdy stuff website I’d mentioned. After a pretty insane weekend of non-stop work, we released Infinite Ammo two days later on the 25th, and it has totally dominated my time since, even though Chaos Mechanica has been an awesome partner in the effort.

The question, “Why the hell would you start a website when you already have so much else to do?” probably springs to mind. I think the answer is simple: I really needed some instant gratification. Work is a constant string of people asking me when I’m going to be out of a job; why wouldn’t I need to do something that I can admire five minutes later?

Of course, it didn’t take five minutes to make the site what it is now; the weeks before and after the 25th were a really tentative dance with a bunch of talent who—thankfully—agreed to work on the site even though they aren’t getting paid anything. I’m ridiculously lucky to know people who are so willing to chip and are also all great, charming, and knowledgeable writers. I want to make this something awesome for them as much as for myself.

The complications that come out of an effort like this are pretty surprising though. But then, so are the stupid, stupid perks; Mr. House and I have had to divvy-up responsibilities (the insanely charming Mr. House getting the HR spot while I took on editing/designing tasks) because problems keep cropping up everywhere and it was immediately too much work for one hero to handle (not that Mr. House is my sidekick; we’re more a Batman/Superman type duo [also I’m Batman]).
Anyway, my point is this: I was preparing an introductory email to prospective writers, full of info they’d need to know to work with us. I’m there writing the “Feature Image” bit, explaining how they can get headline images to use on their stories and this happens: “The best thing to do is aggressively Google Image Search for a good, hi-res shot of your topic. So, say if you’re doing an article about Spider-Man, then I want you to get me pictures of—” O_O “… Yes. Pictures. I want you to get me pictures of Spider-Man!”

It’s the little things, people.

Important: I will occasionally post new reviews and special interest articles, but in the coming months, I’m going to stray away from those to give you a much more personal look into my efforts to finish my book (again) and this major turning point in my life. That said, if you want a more steady string of reviews, previews, and opinions on comics, video games, movies and more from myself and a bunch of other talented writers and hardcore fans, Infinite Ammo is the site for you.  When I finally get the chance to work on it again, RED Comics will also appear on Infinite Ammo, but I love the series too much already to not post it here as well.

—Thanks for Reading!—