Why Wolverine?
Some would mistakenly think he is my favorite x-man. I don't really have a favorite. Storm has the coolest look/entrance... riding in on the wind with her eyes all glowing, but not the coolest power. I don't know who's power I like best. The powers xavier has would be quite handy, I suppose. It isn't that I like Wolverine, so much as I relate.
Life deals as many blows as The Hand could muster. We have to endure. Some have armor. I don't. I take every blow deeply. I survive whatever happens, but that is sometimes all I can do. I get hacked to peices in the process. I feel pain. I bleed. You've seen my gushing through words. Some of you also know I have some nasty steel claws.
I am a strong woman. Carrying my mother when she was dying wasn't hard, she weighed almost nothing at the time, but having the strength to do it gently and to reasure her when the cancer had fogged her brain, I thank God for that strength. The strength to love my neice like my own child - that was nothing. Surviving the nights of staring at her empty crib took a lot more. Learning to stand my ground with men took me too long, but I certainly learned it. I grew a backbone (as in onehellofa). But what takes guts isn't that, it's laying your heart on the line over and over knowing he will only step on it again, hoping that letting him sink his teeth into you a little while you still express your love will be the proof he needs to stop being so damned afraid. (like Naussica charming the squirrel-like creature)
I have a strong backbone, no doubt, and I heal pretty quickly, but I still feel every cut. So here I stand, a woman shredded to ribbons hung upon a metal skeleton, waiting for the flesh to mend and wondering if I can face life's battles again. Well, what else can I do? Give up? I turn my head to pop my neck; I crack a few knuckles, and walk back into the ring.
If I wrote a storywith pretentious words using symbolism to express the toils and strengths of humanity, it could be called fine literature. However, if you use vibrant drawings to show that imagery, it is seen as childs play. Perhaps the lit professors should better listen to their own words "show don't tell". Maybe some comics are just like ink blots... you see as much depth in them as you have capacity for seeing.
Then again... maybe they're just fun.
hurm....
Life deals as many blows as The Hand could muster. We have to endure. Some have armor. I don't. I take every blow deeply. I survive whatever happens, but that is sometimes all I can do. I get hacked to peices in the process. I feel pain. I bleed. You've seen my gushing through words. Some of you also know I have some nasty steel claws.
I am a strong woman. Carrying my mother when she was dying wasn't hard, she weighed almost nothing at the time, but having the strength to do it gently and to reasure her when the cancer had fogged her brain, I thank God for that strength. The strength to love my neice like my own child - that was nothing. Surviving the nights of staring at her empty crib took a lot more. Learning to stand my ground with men took me too long, but I certainly learned it. I grew a backbone (as in onehellofa). But what takes guts isn't that, it's laying your heart on the line over and over knowing he will only step on it again, hoping that letting him sink his teeth into you a little while you still express your love will be the proof he needs to stop being so damned afraid. (like Naussica charming the squirrel-like creature)
I have a strong backbone, no doubt, and I heal pretty quickly, but I still feel every cut. So here I stand, a woman shredded to ribbons hung upon a metal skeleton, waiting for the flesh to mend and wondering if I can face life's battles again. Well, what else can I do? Give up? I turn my head to pop my neck; I crack a few knuckles, and walk back into the ring.
If I wrote a storywith pretentious words using symbolism to express the toils and strengths of humanity, it could be called fine literature. However, if you use vibrant drawings to show that imagery, it is seen as childs play. Perhaps the lit professors should better listen to their own words "show don't tell". Maybe some comics are just like ink blots... you see as much depth in them as you have capacity for seeing.
Then again... maybe they're just fun.
hurm....
posted by TwistedNoggin at 6:04 PM
5 Comments:
Oh...really feel sorry for the time when your mother was gone, I've never experienced such hard situation like you. But when my grandpa passed away after the long-term struggle with disease, I was so sad. I was shocked to see he's burnt and have to pick his bones altogether at the end of funeral, I was 11... Though my links' blogger look fun but not always or all the time I suppose. Micko, in my links' blogfriend who I met in Tokyo is a manga translator live in Tokyo. At that time we went manga shop in Tokyo, and he also told me he love to read American comics like "Wolvarine", "X-men", etc... He's a pro-translator of "Nouvelle Manga", booming in Europe.
Gambit, its all about gambit. You know he's going to be in the next movie? Well, rumored to be anyway.
I usually become impatient with longer posts (as in, more than ten short lines), but I read this one carefully. I'm not sure if the relatability is caused by some common chord among women, or if you and I just happen to be pieces of the same cloth. In either case, I don't think I will ever grow tired of your perspective.
[journey]
that was so sad and yet very beautiful. definitely one of the best writings i have ever read on a superhero. indeed you are strong. it is very aparent in your writings.
Hang in there champ, I'm with you on this, in your corner. I used to want to be Wolverine so bad when I was young; I definitely related to him the most for the exact reasons you described.
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