Journal Entry #21: If We Ran Marvel

Date: November 19, 2007
Time: 23:16

Whenever me and my friend Ray get together, either on the phone or in person, our conversation usually turns to comic books, and then, invariably turns to what we would do to MARVEL Comics to make it better. You see, over the years, the powers-that-be at Marvel have been slowly and systematically ruining all of their titles.

So what Ray and I came up with was something of a DC Comics-like “Crisis on Infinite Earths” type of storyline, and then, we clean house. What follows is a bit of that housecleaning.

The first thing to be done is to separate all of the heroes. There are just too damn many of them operating in New York City. It has been reported that the basic reason for all of the heroes being in New York City is because many, if not most, of the writers and creators lived in New York City. All right, even though Steve Rogers, who would one day, grow up to be the man the world knows as Captain America, is alleged to come from New York City’s Lower East Side, or possibly even the area known as Hell’s Kitchen, we will let him remain to have come from either of those areas. It gives him character. However, we propose that his base of operations is to be Washington, D.C. He is headquartered at what is known as the “Old Executive Office Building”, or, as it is known by others, the “OEOB”. He is answerable to the White House Chief of Staff, and to the President of the United States.

With the previous paragraph in mind, let us briefly move on to The Avengers. One of the many things that are wrong with the Avengers is the same thing that is wrong with the X-Men; there are too many of them. While some may feel that having a large team with which to work is fine thing, sometimes less is more. But what we propose here is that there is to be one leader, and that is Captain America. The way it would work is like this.

The Avengers are now brought together by need. There are to be no regular members. As there are no regular members, there is no longer any need for meetings, and because there are no meetings, there is no need for a headquarters. Allow me to explain. An incident occurs that requires more than one hero; Captain America goes from his office in the OEOB to a special room in the Pentagon. He travels by means of a superspeed underground rail system. He then enters the situation into a computer. The computer analyzes the situation and calls up the names of those heroes, and heroines, which are the best ones suited for the job at hand. Now, one might ask “What if that person isn’t available?” Well, the answer is, “Cap will just have to find someone else.” This opens up all sorts of possibilities in that the available person just might not like Captain America.

Take for instance, the resident archer extraordinaire Hawkeye, aka Clint Barton. It could be that Hawkeye was on a previous mission with Cap and the rest of whomever was called, and something happened that Hawkeye did not like, and for which, Cap was ultimately responsible, or vice versa. So say another occasion arises that calls for an expert in archery. Hawkeye could say he does not want to get into another situation like before, but naturally, Cap will appeal to Hawkeye’s sense of duty, and thereby make him join up. Which of course means it may not work the next time he gets called. Did I make that clear enough? I sure hope so, because I don’t think I could go through it again.

So, getting back to what I was saying at the beginning of all this, The Avengers, being that they have a rotating membership, might not always come back with the same people they left with. In short, one, or several members of the team, may die. And they will stay dead.

Now that’s not to say that every month a major character is in danger of being killed, there are some B-Level heroes that aren’t always used, and they seem to be more resilient than cockroaches. In any event, this new Avengers can be considered almost a duplicate of DC Comics’ Suicide Squad, but without the exploding bracelets.

More to Come

Journal Entry #20: Being Me

Date: November 18, 2007
Time: 21:31

Every once in a while, and it hasn’t happened for quite some time now, I get this feeling where I’m tired of being me. I’m tired of everything that’s going on around me; I’m tired of putting up with everything that’s going on around me. I’m tired of my job, and even when I was having difficulty in finding one, I was tired of that. I’m just tired with being me, and I feel that it’s someone else’s turn.

I mentioned this to a friend of mine once. He gave me a fantastic answer, “You need a vacation.” Y’know, if I ever decided to get talked out of suicide, he’s the one I would call last. He didn’t stop to think that even if I were to go anywhere, I’d have to come back, and if I went anywhere and came back, I’d Still Be Me.

So even after deciding that maybe someone else should have the privilege of being me, after all, I shouldn’t be the only one to have this much misery, I figured out why I’m stuck with the job; no one else wants it. And I don’t blame them one bit.

But regardless of all that, I do need a break. I think I may have mentioned this in an earlier post, but my brain has been so addled lately that I’m not sure I remember exactly when. But I need a break. I need to get out of town, possibly out of the state, maybe even out of the country. I need to maybe go to London for two weeks instead of the usual one week, and then spend about two or three weeks just resting. But if that were to happen, there would have to be one proviso that would guarantee my returning. Things would have to change.

My job, for the most part, that would have to go. I am sick and tired of working for a construction contractor. I don’t belong there, I’ve never been comfortable there, and I don’t like it there.

The next thing that would have to change is being at school. I don’t feel I belong at DeVry either. I don’t know what school I’m meant to be attending, or even if I'm meant to go to school, but wherever it is, or is not, I know it’s not where politics and profit margins rule the day.

And finally, as much as I like living where I do, being close to everything I need, I wouldn’t mind living above ground for a change. It has been over twenty years since I moved into this basement apartment.

But none this is going to happen. Why? Simple answer: Because I can’t go anywhere in the first place. I don’t have the time, nor do I have the money. So, what else ya got?

I look forward to an answer.

Journal Entry #19: Fitting In

Date: November 17, 2007
Time: 21:53

I guess you would refer to this entry as something of a follow-up to “Acceptance”. The reason is I still don’t feel like I fit in anywhere. This isn’t some once in a while feeling, okay, maybe it rises to the surface every so often, but the feeling is always there.

I’m not really sure what it is exactly. Sometimes I feel like I was born at the wrong time, and I don’t mean night or day. I mean the year, the decade, sometimes even the century. Sometimes it’s a matter of geography. Was I really meant to be born in Brooklyn, or was it somewhere else in New York? Come to think of it, who says it had to have been in New York at all? Hell, come to that, who says it has to have been anywhere on the East Coast? There are even times when I wonder if I was really meant to be born in the United States.

And then, there’s that once in a while moment, when I’m laying in bed, the lights are off because I’m trying for some sleep, that little feeling that maybe, just maybe, I was supposed to either have been born, or have yet to be born, on another planet. And no, I don’t think it’s one of the planets in this particular solar system.

I just don’t know.

Journal Entry #18: Part III

Date: November 16, 2007
Time: 22:10

The final dream I remember with vivid clarity took place in a park. Sort of.

The grass was a very dark green, and the trees were filled with green leaves. This would say to most people that it was either spring or summer. It was a cloudy day, and I was with some friends. We were tossing a large ball around and on this one toss to me, I missed it. No surprise there as I am lousy when it comes to sports.

The ball got past me and bounced onto this patio. Or at least it looked like a patio from where I was standing. When I got closer, I found out it was an upper deck of a ship. There were lounge chairs and tables for card playing, and these oddly shaped trees in these odd-looking pots. The trees were small, but their trunks twisted and curved themselves in strange ways. But what really made them look odd was the shelf that stood between the top of the pot and the middle of the tree. It was like something out of “The Jetson’s”.

There were a great many elderly people lounging about, and I excused myself and “begged pardon” on a grand scale. I couldn’t understand why at the time, but I felt as though I didn’t belong there, and I should be as polite as I could until I could find a way to get out of there. I remember I was holding the ball, and as I was being complimented on how polite I was I was invited to stay a while until the ship was ready to leave. And I said “I don’t think I belong here.” But some of them were insistent that I stay, and I kept telling them that I didn’t belong there.

I remember I kept on say that until I woke up.

My relating these dreams has been somewhat difficult for me in some ways as it dredges up a lot of memories associated with the dream. In point of fact, it dredges up the dream. I mean, yeah, I remember it and all, but I'm not in the habit of talking about it.

Journal Entry #17: Dreams, Part II

Date: November 15, 2007

Time: 22:35

There were two dreams I had that were so vivid; I didn’t wake up when I started talking. You see, I have found that if I talk in a dream, I wake myself up. It’s as though my silence gives the dream a chance to finish. I wonder if by talking, I’m introducing a form of logic into a moment that is supposed to have no logic at all.

In any event, this one particularly vivid dream had me in a cemetery.

No idea how I got there, or why I was there, except I think I was walking through as a form of a short cut to somewhere else. Well, whatever the reason I was there, I remember walking off to the right, and I got to what was the top of a small hill. At the top of this hill was a small red brick building, probably a mausoleum. To the right of that was a large blackish-gray headstone. It was large enough to have a large enough base that would allow a person to sit on the base comfortably enough and be able to lean their back against the upright portion of the stone.

Sure enough, on the side of the stone that faced towards the bottom of the hill sat an old woman. She was dressed rather nicely, even wearing one of those old-fashioned hats with a knit veil on it. Even though it was a dream, the say this was happening on was bright and sunny. The woman appeared to be watching a funeral. I could tell from the expression on her face that it was hers. She dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief a few times and I thought it rude of me to just stand there. So I went over and asked if anything was wrong.

Yeah, I know, dumb question, but I figured it would break the ice a little. She said how sad she was that her family had to go through this, what with her being ill and then dying. I looked down toward the burial site and saw how many people were gathered. All the seats were taken, a few more had been brought out from the chapel, and still there were a lot of people standing. I pointed out to her that with all that many people gathered to say goodbye that her family must have loved her dearly, regardless of having to deal with whatever illness she had. She looked back at the crowd that had lined up to throw flowers on the coffin, and she smiled, and then she said to me “You are a very astute young man. Thank you.” And she vanished.

Shortly after that, I woke up.

~Part 3 tomorrow~

Journal Entry #16: Dreams

Date: November 14, 2007
Time: 21:31

I don’t know where I read this, or even heard this, but someone once said that we dream in black and white. I don’t know what that guy was on, but I’ve always dreamt in color. And I have had a few dreams that have stuck in my mind. I even had a dream repeat itself. What I mean by that is this; I had a particular dream twice.

Let me explain.

When I was about five years old, I dreamed I was walking along a concrete walkway. I remember my father and brother were with me, and we were mingled with a lot of other people. And we all were walking along this pathway.

Soon, and this was still within the dream, we walked through this gate, and onto this enormous platform. It was situated above this gigantic waterfall. I remember looking out past the edge and seeing the water, but we were so high up, and the waterfall was so large and powerful, the mist prevented you from seeing any further than a few feet. I suddenly felt a little dizzy, so I sank slowly to the floor. I reached out my right hand, and with my thumb, forefinger, and middle finger, touched the floor. I remember feeling the cold of the concrete, and the roughness of it, and then I woke up.

About 13 years later, I was about to graduate high school, and one evening, I had that dream again. Everything was exactly the same as it was when I had the dream when I was five. Even down to waking up when I felt the cold and rough surface of the platform.

When my parents and I lived up in Co-Op City in the Bronx, we lived in the part of Co-Op City they called “Section 5”. There were five sections and we lived in the fifth. They had 3 main configurations of apartment buildings in Co-Op, as we called it. There was the Tower Building, which was 33 stories high and looked like a large ‘X’ in a small box. Then there was the “Triple Core”, which not only had 26 stories, but was in 3 sections, and then there was the Chevron, so named because that was the shape. That had 24 floors and was in two sections.

They also had what was referred to as “Townhouses”. They were a series of two-story structures, and each level had one apartment. The top apartment had a balcony, while the bottom apartment had a backyard. Oh, and in case you were wondering, and even if you weren’t, the Tower had 384 apartments, the Triple-Core had 500, and the Chevron had 414. I used to deliver this weekend supplement and I had to count how many apartments in each building I delivered to so I would be sure to have enough.

Now, Section 5 had two sets of Triple-Core apartment buildings, and in the center of each set was a very large sandbox. In each sandbox was a series of structures and playsets made of wood.

One night, long after I had moved out of my parents’ house, I dreamed I was walking into Section 5. I was coming in from Section 4, via “Killer Curve”. Coming into Section 5 that way let’s you into where one of the sets of Triple-Cores are located, along with the sandbox. One of the things that clued me in on this being a dream is that I was wearing nothing but my underwear and a t-shirt. I then got caught in this small wooden house like structure in the sandbox. I remember saying, out loud mind you, “This is a dream. I’ll wake up, get out of this, and then, when I close my eyes again, I’ll be out.”

And that’s exactly what I did, and that’s exactly what happened.

~To be continued~

Journal Entry #15: Good For..?

Date: November 13, 2007
Time: 22:38

I have asked this question, I’ve posed it, and I’ve posited it, I’ve even begged it, “What am I good for?” And no one seems to know the answer. So I attempt to elaborate. I say “I know what I’m good at; I want to know what I’m good for.” Still no luck, still no answer, just quizzical looks. So I have to really get technical about it, I have to list all that I know how to do, all that I’ve learned so far, and then, just for kicks, I throw in the natural talents I bring when I walk in the door. I have this innate gift for remembering things.

When I was younger, we never needed a TV Guide in our house. I’d read through it, and then all anyone needed to do was give me the day and time and I would rattle off all of the programs that were on that night. To this day, I can remember the phone number we had when we lived in Brooklyn; I can also remember the phone number of this girl from my second grade class. Of course I can’t recall her last name for the life of me, but I can remember her phone number. I can remember almost anything I’ve ever read, heard, or seen in my entire life. I can go up to my bookcase, look at the title of a book, and start remembering words and sentences and plot points, all without looking at the back of the book, or cracking it open to refresh my memory with the first few sentences.

So I have a fantastic memory, when my brain is allowed to function normally, which it hasn’t been doing for quite some time now, I have a talent for writing, which I haven’t been able to seriously get to lately, and I have a pretty good imagination, which sort of lends itself to the writing aspect, but like that, my imagination has been losing its spark these days.

I need some time off from everything that I’m doing. I need for someone to give me a test that will show, once and for all, what I am good for. Every time I’m given some sort of aptitude test or, I don’t know, a functionality quiz, the answers always come out the same, “Best suited to work in an office.” or “Best suited to work in business surroundings.” And so and so on.

The reason why this happens each and every time is because of the content of the exam; they ask questions that, once the logical side of my brain takes over, there’s little hope in getting it to relinquish control. This is when my tunnel vision becomes a hindrance more than a help.

I want to know what I’m good for, I want to know where I fit in, and so far this place, DeVry, and my job, Office Administrator for a Construction Contractor, isn’t helping any.