From the Vault: This is the Worst September 11th Ever!

This post was originally written on 9/11/15.

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Of course I had to start this off with a tasteless joke. It’s what I do best.

Sometime last week I decided that I’m going to make the most out of my time. I’m going to get up early work on personal projects, go to the gym, get energized, get to work early, and then have the night for myself. After finding it hard to wake up early, or even on time, I delayed this idea for about a week and a half. Then, after reading some inspiring words on another blog, I decided it was time to stop making excuses and start making changes happen. So when my alarm clock rang at 6:45 AM this morning, I knew hitting the snooze wasn’t an option: hopping out of bed and getting my ass in gear was the only course of action.

Ok, so I still hit the snooze button once or twice and maybe laid in bed checking Instagram for a few minutes, but then I was up and at ’em. I reasoned that, as long as I get to the gym by 7:30 AM, I could still get up to a solid hour of gym time (though, realistically I usually cap out at 45 mins) and still have enough time to shower and get to work on time. So I finally get to my car at about 7:26 (the gym is only about a four minute drive away) and I’m ready to go… but my car isn’t. I have one of those nifty push-to-start FOB keys, and my car wasn’t detecting it. Dead battery? Weird Glitch? Who knows, but between debating whether I should forgo the gym altogether and instead walk around the neighborhood, make a stop off at my mom’s to grab my other FOB key and hope that it works, and then browsing through my driver’s manual and searching the internet until I FINALLY found an answer on a message board that informed me that apparently there’s a “charging station” for my key in the center console (thanks for the tip, KIA!) I was able to get my car up and running…10 minutes later. “Ok, so if I get to the gym at around 7:40, work out for 45 minutes, then it will be 8:25. If I take a quick 5 minute shower then it will be 8:30 which will still be enough time to get to work.” I rationalized with myself. I can do this. I’M GOING to do this.

I forgot that school bus traffic hell occurs every day at approximately 7:40 AM. Of course I forgot that, since I’ve been sleeping later every day I always miss it.

I finally got to the gym at 7:55. The parking lot was PACKED. Apparently, people get their gym time in at approximately 7:55 every day. After parking my car and getting out to get all of my stuff together, I glanced at the clock again/ 7:58. “If I get in there by 8:00 I can work out for 15-20 minutes and then…” I slammed the door and hopped back into the front seat. This morning was giving me every sign that gym wasn’t in the cards, so maybe just going to early and getting a head start on my projects would be for the best.

I got to work and got changed out of my gym clothes in the bathroom. I found a bag of earrings in my purse, with one missing a back. I managed to (miraculously) locate the back at the bottom of my bag. Then I dropped said-earring back onto the floor, where it vanished completely. ARG. I washed my hands and thought, “God, please don’t let this be one of those days.”

I got to my desk to find out we were nowhere near ready for our hard deadline that was approaching and I had more work piling up, making it difficult to finish the project I wanted to complete, nor get cracking on a personal project before the work day started. Double arg. I opened up my Facebook messenger to shoot my mom a quick “good morning” message, as per my usual morning routine, and let her know about the crap day I was having so far, when I noticed that she changed her profile picture to one of the American flag. “Oh, geez, what happened now?” I thought to myself, and then it finally hit me. It hadn’t even occurred to me what the date was since I was so in my own head. Then, I realized something else:

It was approximately 8:46 AM on September 11, and I was about to complain about what a terrible day I was having.

While I was busy pitying myself, I forgot about the fact that, for A LOT of people early in the morning of September 11th, it really was the worst— and for many, last— day of their lives.There’s nothing that snaps you back to reality more than realizing how much worse things could be. That day, for all those who lost and suffer thanks to the reminders every year, all of those who are still barely living, but suffer from health complications and PTSD from being there, for all those who have been targeted and hurt every day since because of the color of their skin— this day has a lot of different meanings to a lot of different people. But there’s one string that ties them all together: for everyone, the earth stood still the morning of September 11th. And every year when we have those moments of silence, the earth stands still again. And in that silence, we are one. And our problems— no matter what size— disappear, even for just a few moments.

I’m not going to recount where I was and what I was doing when it happened. I’ve already done that. But I want everyone instead to think about where they are now. What they’re doing. What they’re spending their time and exhausting their both physical and mental on. Think about the amount of time you spend worrying and stressing about things that, in the bigger picture, are insignificant. Budget your emotional time accordingly. Time is fleeting and can be taken from us in the blink of an eye. In a New York minute. Don’t waste it on beating yourself up over things that go wrong. Don’t waste them worrying about other people’s problems. Take a few moments of silence every now and then to focus on the good things out there. Because they are there, even if they’re hard to see.

Sure as time goes on we grow more bitter and cynical toward a lot of things: the meaning of patriotism, the actions of our government and law officials, the different questions that have arisen since, and sometimes we even channel the confusion and anger into humor, throwing around callous 9/11 jokes when we can (I’ll admit it, I’m guilty of it). But when the dust has settled but the fog is still overhead, don’t let it cloud your judgment. On this day, it’s always okay to stop and thank those who worked tirelessly and put their lives in harm’s way to help their fellow man. Not all of us can be that courageous, but there’s still things we can do. Be a little bit kinder to a stranger. Think of those around you. Get outside of your own head and just be one in the silence.

News 'n' Views - July 2018

Howdy, howdy! I've got some pretty big news to share but FIRST...

How's your summer going? Mine's been all right--ok that's me being slightly dishonest. It's been pretty stressful and very unsummer-like. Things have been on the stressful side in terms of family and personal stuff that's had my head in a tizzy. Then I went and caught a nasty cold--summer colds are possibly the grossest things to happen to the human body. It's also been rainy and damp all week and I've felt like I've been in a permanent mental fog. So that's been... fun?

BUT I SAID I HAVE GOOD NEWS AND HERE IT IS:

I'll be writing the all-new BETTY & VERONICA series out later this year from Archie Comics! I've had a blast writing Vixens and I'm excited to continue writing for the two iconic characters--this time taking the girls into more uncharted territory--senior year of high school!

The news of the series broke at the New York Times. I know. Kind of a BFD and I'm still kind of in shock about it! You can read the full article about the milestone Archie #700 relaunch here. I also did a follow-up interview with SyFy Wire that you can read here! 

Here's a look at some promotional art by the amazing Marguerite Sauvage:

So yeah... I'm pretty excited and I hope you all dig it! And speaking of Betty & Veronica... Betty & Veronica: Vixens Vol. 1 is available in bookstores everywhere now! It collects the first arc/5 issues of Vixens. It's super weird to actually see my name on something in bookstores--but very, very cool.  

And one more writerly update before I go and down myself in Mucinex--my newest Razorcake article is live! In it I discuss my attempts at managing my anxiety by digital means. One of which is my own personal therapy of writing these articles every other month. They really help put things in perspective for me and I'm always honored when people reach out to tell me that they can connect with them. I'm super thankful to Razorcake for letting me sharing my stories.

That's all I got now! Time to bid you all achoo! ;)

Jamie

HELLLLLOOOOO, INTERNET!

Hello there, boils, ghouls and gender-non-subscribing spirits! I'm back with another installment of "Hey, did you miss me? I promised I'd update regularly then didn't bother to post anything for SIX MONTHS but it's okay cuz I'll get better at it!" You see, it's the fun thing I do where every six months the crippling anxiety and mounting pressure of maintaining an online presence finally gets to me. Then I get the cold sweats looking at my unpublished and unfinished drafts. THEN I start shaming myself for how often I let this happen. Finally I end up writing a blog post, usually to talk about how little I've updated my blog with a promise to change going forward. 

See? Just like I said, FUN.

Well no wallowing in self-pity this time (any more than I already have), let's get into the good stuff:

• My newest Razorcake article is up now--it's about how big of a crybaby I am! 
• Betty & Veronica: Vixens #6 is on-sale now, and Vixens #7 will be on sale June 13!
• Speaking of which, if you're on, affiliated with, or know of an all-female roller derby team that would like to be featured in an upcoming issue of VIXENS (or have their very own variant cover) shoot me a message via the contact page or DM/tweet @ArchieComics on Twitter! 
• TONIGHT (that's June 1, 2018) from 6:00 - 8:00 PM at the New York Historical Society: QWERTY, Girls Write Now's digital expo is taking place! I'm so honored to be a part of this community and I can't wait for every one to see what this year's digital media making teens have in store for everyone. Speaking of which, check out my incredible mentee Kylie's blog, The Cicada Effect. I'm so constantly inspired by her and in awe of her work and ambition and her blog is a great place to see the mission she's undertaken as a way of bettering her community and the world around her. Listen to them!! 

That's all for now, folks! 'Til next time! (Which will hopefully be in under six months!)

Jamie

A Total Eclipse of the Sun

Today's solar eclipse will likely mark another of my many failed attempts at witnessing astronomical phenomena. I mean, that's not unusual considering I live just outside one of the busiest cities in the world, where seeing more than a handful of stars in the sky is in itself an astronomical phenomenon. I guess that means I can blame my oft-crummy luck on the curvature of the earth, if I believed in that sort of stuff. Ok, I kind of do. I'm a bit of an astrological lurker, I read my horoscope weekly, I believe in fate, I try to read the energy of the universe that surrounds me, I do think that retrogrades effect a lot (though I also believe that it can sometimes have the reverse effect on me.)

That being said, I'm also a superstitious skeptic, I don't want to know the future, I don't mess around with tarot cards or Ouija boards both out of fear and out of rejection of their viability. I don't believe in curses or magic or hexes but I also don't fuck with them. But I truly would like to believe that the moon and the sun do hold some kind of power over us all, and that witnessing this historical event could impact me in some kind of moon goddess-y, inspirational and restorative way. 

I want to believe.

One thing is for certain, the impending eclipse has got my creative juices flowing. I'll be posting a quick short story I wrote today on here later (once I finish it). And the NASA live stream has been extremely rad to watch while I work--sometimes science is pretty damn cool! Here's hoping you make the most out of this eclipse, in whatever way works for you. 

Also, here's this, since it's been stuck in my head all day and now I want it to be stuck in yours: 

Joyce's Law

June 10th, 2015: I planned on spending my entire day being a nervous wreck. Not only was I about to embark on the biggest trip of my life, but  it was also my first time EVER leaving the United States, and my first time EVER going on an airplane. I was terrified of planes—a trait inherited from family (call it a passing on of paranoia). Intrigued, yes, but terrified. The metal birds that were ingrained in my skull as purveyors of death still seemed so majestic to me—there was something almost soothing about them.  I’d sometimes pretend, especially before falling asleep, that I was a passenger on a plane. I’d imagine myself waking up in another place, having safely landed as if I was never in air at all. This, I told myself, would be all I needed to do to get through the flight without any fear—just sleep comfortably through it and let my dreams carry me away. And with the flight leaving at 10:00 PM, that seemed more than doable. I was finally ready to face everything head-on: I was going to board an airplane, leave the country, and get married in Dublin.

A little backstory: My fiancé, John, and I had been engaged for about a year and half, with absolutely no movements toward our eventual nuptials. Not because we didn’t want to get married—quite the opposite—but because everything even vaguely wedding-related totally freaked us out. Friends gave me piles upon piles of wedding prep books, which would sit on the floor of my room, untouched. We talked about opening up Wedding Planning for Dummies, but we never really wanted to. We wanted to get married, but we wanted something that would be special for the two of us. We also were not the kind of people who plan things in advance; we’re both master procrastinators through and through. Finally, one February night, we came up with a brilliant plan: we’d get married on Bloomsday (June 16th, the day the events of James Joyce’s Ulysses take place), as we were both die-hard Joyce fans and literature enthusiasts—in Dublin. Just the two of us, and two of our dear friends as witnesses. Why not? It seemed almost too perfect—but how on earth could we pull this off in under six months?

People who plan weddings for years are suckers.

Sure, there were a few mini-heart attacks along the way and a number of run-ins with what seemed like the impossible, but positive thinking, determination and an unwillingness to accept “no” as an answer went a long way, and there we were, less than six months later, heading to the airport to make our wildest dream a reality.

Arriving at Newark I realized something: absolutely everything I knew about air travel I learned from Seinfeld. I knew how much to tip the luggage handler (an obsolete piece of information now) and that first-class was a whole different world from coach (true). We made it to the airport and through customs and security freakishly quickly. All that was left to do was wait—which, surprisingly, didn’t freak me out all that much. See, here’s the weird thing about me: I often worry more about the details leading up to a big event than the actual event itself. I’m likely to say no to something just out of fear of how I’ll deal with the stress around it, than fear of the unknown. Having gotten through airport security without any blips along the way made me much calmer. A few Old Fashioneds at the airport bar may have also contributed to that. Either way, I was ready to go and sleep soundly through my first flight.

It’s REALLY difficult to sleep on a plane. Whenever I imagined it as a child, I thought of how comfy Jerry looked with his pillow and blanket, snoozing away next to his new model friend in first-class.  I never imagined myself in Elaine’s position in coach, wedged in between two people, with hardly any leg room, fighting for comfort. It was clear early on that sleep was not going to be an option. Fortunately, the young man sitting next to us was incredibly kind and we ended up chatting for most of the flight. The whole trip was smooth, and we made it safely to Dublin.

Our first night we stopped into a pub around the corner from our hotel. At the bar, a young man named Stephen (how appropriate, given the nature of our visit!) offered to give us a personal tour of Dublin nightlife—and we gladly took him up on the offer. Why not? Our first stop was “The Mezz,” a fun, low-key dive bar, in the tourist-riddled Temple Bar area. Our next few stops were fruitless, but wandering through the city at night more than made up for it.  While the “pub crawl” may have been a bust, Stephen’s kindness, sense of humor and eagerness to show two American tourists a real, local tour of Dublin, peppered with bits of history and politics, were better than any bar.

The next few days were jam-packed with living out our literary dreams. We visited the James Joyce Centre and the Dublin Writer’s Museum. Standing in a recreation of the room Joyce wrote Finnegan’s Wake in, staring at Joyce’s death mask, getting to knock on the actual door from 7 Eccles Street, and touching Joyce’s piano were all positively surreal experiences.  We also visited Ulysses Rare Books where, while we didn’t have €30,000 to spare on the first edition of Ulysses, we splurged on the 1947 hardcover Random House first edition (and a first edition of Kurt Vonnegut’s Slapstick because, why not?).

Our “honeymoon” was nearing an end, though, as our wedding day was quickly approaching.

Murphy’s Law says that everything that can go wrong, will. I only believe that to be somewhat true. Sometimes almost everything will go wrong, save for that one thread of hope that you have to hang onto for dear life to survive. That’s what happened to us—from going down to the wire with our Catholic marriage forms, to cutting it much too close to getting our paperwork ready in the states, to a mistake in booking that almost lost our spot for getting our marriage registration in Dublin the day before we were to be wed, to a missing pair of pants the morning of the wedding—our entire love story was a comedy of errors. An almost tragic, yet comedic, love story—call it Joyce’s Law.

Remember what I said about being nervous about the minor details? Any sense of nervousness was completely washed away when I was walking up that aisle. The church was positively gorgeous—ornately decorated with multi-colored flowers to commemorate the 500th anniversary of St. Teresa of Avila. I was not, for the first time, a nervous wreck—there was no room for it when I realized that not only had we made our dreams come true, but that we were still living them. Everything that came before, saying yes to his proposal, yes to this trip. Everything that came after, the rounds of applause from passersby, Joyceans dressed in their Bloomsday best stopping for photos or to send us their regards, being serenaded and fawned over—it was all like reading a chapter from a book I’d never want to put down. I was never surer of anything in my life—and yes I said yes I will Yes.