Oh The Things That You Say, Is It Life Or, Just A Play My Worries Away, You're All The Thing I've Got To Remember

--"Take On Me", A-Ha

Back in 1991 I started collecting comic books seriously. I had dabbled in it before when I was much younger, but in 1991 I had both the capital and the desire to seriously compile a collection. I don't know what got me hooked. Maybe it was parsing through Excalibur, the title where Miss Katherine "Kitty" Pryde was so prominent at the time, and just becoming unbelievably hooked. Or maybe it was just the fact that I was unbelievably bored.

I wouldn't say I was unfettered when it came for activities to occupy my time. I was a very diligent student and I had more than my fair share when it came to friends. What may have been the biggest contributing factor to my sense of ennui was the fact that I didn't have anything to occupy my voracious imagination. It would be some time before Amethyst Exchange and definitely way before Our Magazine became outlets for my creativity. Before then, I was searching for something fantastic and wholly unreal to escape to. Novels have their places, but they're still slowly paced and less visceral than comic books. Whenever I picked up a new book, I was instantly transported there, whether there was the Excalibur Lighthouse off the coast of Scotland or there was the deep reaches of outer space. I got it instantly. The instantaneous immersion into the mood and atmosphere of the environment is the allure of comic books and graphic novels.

Most people don't have to prance through some other worlds to feel complete, but I think I've always had the notion that worlds I create and environments I can control were necessary for me to feel secure. I need that panic button. It's much what I say about other people's belief in religion. People need something other than reality to lose themselves in. We just do. It doesn't matter what you lose yourself in, as long as you know it's there. It could be alcohol, drugs, sex, or some other vice. Those have always been mechanisms for escape. However, I believe people can lose themselves in causes, both noble and ignoble. I believe we're all guilty of getting swept in the tide of our own convictions. That's what comic books--and all the other various media I've collected over the years--once meant for me. They were my release. They were the neverending task that I set myself to so I can feel occupied.

Don't get me wrong. I loved reading them. And I still think, as a medium, comic books have a lot to offer anyone of a certain creative bent. They juggle tons of characters with thousands of back stories. They're wonderful tools for learning how to pace a slow-burning story. And, let's face it, there's something to be said about providing children of all ages the idea that great things can be awakened inside all of us. I've actually had a discussion with a certain someone comparing and contrasting the virtues of this last idea. Taking comic books in one hand and adventure movies like the Indiana Jones trilogy in the other, you can see that everyone likes stories where the heroes are larger than life. I've always enjoyed the idea that a hero waits in all of us. Rather than the modern bent of telling stories of the everyman where the mundane conflicts and stresses comprise the plot of novels, the motto of bigger, better, bolder has always been the more instantly recognizable.

When it finally came to give them up in 1993, it wasn't because they failed to appeal to me. In some way, they'll always perk my interest. I think I gave them up because I felt I outgrew them. The sad part is I don't think I did. I think I set myself up with an arbitrary date to give them up and, when the time came, I had to abide by it. Nobody asked me to. Nobody told me to. I thought it was just time.

When I met Breanne later on that year, we talked about how we'd both lost things in the last few months. I didn't mention my comic books. I didn't think she needed to know. More to the point, I was embarrassed for myself. It was one of those subjects that I felt I couldn't be sentimental about even though I was sentimental about it to some degree. In fact, I still hold that same bias. I felt trapped because, even though I have a lot of geeky interests, comic books have always been a taboo subject to admit I enjoyed at one time and maybe would have still enjoyed now had I kept up with my collection.

Sometimes I lament I gave up collecting. It's been hard replacing the joy that comic books once gave me. Oh, I still find ways to escape. I write more. I watch more sci-fi and fantasy movies and shows. But it's not the same. It doesn't give me the same satisfaction. The sad part is that, as an escape comic books were always came in the correct dosage. I could devote fifteen minutes of my time to escape, then I felt good for the rest of the day. It was like my spiritual cat nap. Ever since I moved past them, it's as if I haven't felt fully rested since then.

And, boy, am I sleepy.

Yours Swimmingly,
mojo shivers