Just call me Little Bo Peep because I have definitely lost my sheep, and do not know where to find them. It’s true what they say that there is no rest for the weary and that became apparently clear just moments ago at 4:30 A.M. when I arose from my bed after much tossing and turning. Many different thoughts played on my mind as I tried to quiet it for slumber, but to no avail. The hundreds of random thoughts, phrases, scenarios, etc sped through my temporal lobe. As quickly as it appeared it was gone and another thought would pass. This pattern repeated so many times that I decided that I would write. Perhaps by getting anything out it would help to quiet the massive memory party taking place in my gray matter. It seems that many things in my life are never simple but always completely complex. The more I write the more my brain goes on overload and things want to come spilling out of me constantly. If I resist and calm the storm eventually nothing will come to me and I will be silenced in my writing for however many months it takes before it starts again.
So there are no sheep for me to count, no Z’s to catch, and no snooze to hit on my alarm, because I am obviously exhaustively, extensively, and irrevocably wide awake. My limbs weak and fatigued, eyes droopy, but my mind has apparently consumed 20 red bulls without my knowledge. The thoughts speed so rapidly that I can’t catch but a glimpse of what the thought even pertains to. A piece of a story, books I’ve read, conversations that I have had, everything and anything. So much so that my head begins to pound again, I feel like The Maxx in Issue 1 where he gets arrested, the pounding in his head as he drifts between reality into Pangea aka The Outback. This is precisely how I feel. One of these days I will write a blog on the relevance to this comic book into my own existence and my deep emotional ties to it, and the story itself, but definitely not tonight. Although, I will point out that one of my favorite quotes in the comic is when Maxx is referring to Julie aka The Jungle Queen and says, “For her, I could be a hero!”
I think the idea of this is lovely. I mean really, what woman doesn’t want to be rescued in someway. The notion is very romantic in it’s ideology. As strong as any one woman may be, do not think for a second that there isn’t a moment where she wants to be weak just to have someone to pick her up and make her feel safe without her having to fight that particular battle all on her own. Nobody likes to be alone and we enjoy suffering alone even less.
I think that the one thing that I really love about The Maxx is the metaphors, this seemingly crazy story about a homeless guy named, Dave that puts a lampshade on his head and becomes this superhero because the lampshade essentially attacks his face and grows over his body taking control of him, is really quite impressive. I mean don’t we all wear masks at different times in our lives? Even when we are sad but pretend to be happy for the greater good, or to avoid burdening other people with the deep sorrow that lies within it is nothing but a charade, or a mask if you will.
The complexity of this world of Pangea and it’s inhabitants are what now bounce around in my brain. It is something that I cannot ever forget about and is so much a part of me in the biggest way. Maybe to some it seems preposterous to be so attached to a comic book, but they don’t understand. For some people they just simply liked it (didn’t I say I wasn’t going to go there tonight?), they thought it was cool, an interesting concept, perhaps even a bit visually stunning with it’s use of colors and changing scenery. I, however, saw a bit of myself in all of the characters in some way shape or form, more specifically Julie Winters. She was raped and put on a super front of being strong, nothing could bother her, but deep down she was not only scared, but scarred. She too wore a mask that she hid to hide the anger and the weakness that was a direct result of her attack. At one point we see Julie as a little girl, innocent and free, the part of her that could never grow up. Anyone who has dealt with sexual abuse, such as myself can relate to this wholeheartedly. We all, all of us that has experienced something so traumatic, are Julie Winters in our own ways. When The Maxx sees young Julie he is a skull, which is the tattoo on my wrist. He can’t exist at that time as a superhero because it was the time before she could be saved and he was not a part of her world then. You cannot save someone from something that has already happened, it’s not possible. Everyone has to find their own way of coping, of trying to move forward, but saving is something that simply cannot be done.
Julie is the Jungle Queen in Pangea, this is where she is fierce, she cannot be hurt, she cannot be tamed. She is the unstoppable force that she cannot truly be in the real world. But to escape to this place and feel that empowerment is what gives her strength and hope to carry on. Dave was a failure at life so he had to transform so that he could do something useful. See, all of the characters are searching for something, they want to change their circumstances, and it isn’t always that easy. But we can in some ways create our own reality to escape to when the pressure is just too much. Ahh, the creative mind. What a thing a beauty.
Someone told me once, when I was on the verge of tears and a complete emotional wreck, “I can see a world of pain in your eyes. How I wish I could take away all of your pain.” It’s kind of a contradiction in terms to be a deeply tortured soul trying to have an optimistic outlook on life, but that is what I am. The sadness can be seen in my eyes if you are looking, but there is much happiness in my heart as well. Beautiful memories that I cherish or people, places seen, things felt. But it is the yin and yang of the world, that balance. There is no happiness without sadness. No life without death, no night without day. It is the way things must be. We must all lose to win and win to lose.
So as I ramble on with these meaningless nothings the end of my tale comes to this, and back to The Maxx we go, my tattoo is a symbol of that little girl that maintains her innocence that nobody could take away, the part of me (and Julie) that can never grow up because we know the harsh, cruel reality of what life sometimes likes to throw our way. That as much as we can love so deeply that we can hate as well because life has compelled us to do so. I try not to hate anyone or let that particular emotion escape the jail that I keep it locked away in, or even speak the words from my lips pertaining to an individual. I am sure the sentiment is there somewhere but I would rather not think of it or allow it to consume my thoughts because there is nobody worth hating unless you had loved them first, and I cannot say that I ever did. One strong emotion must usually stem from another strong emotion. Usually the opposite of the other. But there will always be a part of me, a very tiny part, that will be untouched by the world and it’s strife. A part that shall always remain innocent even though I have been so thoroughly corrupted, and so for her, I can be a hero!