Been trying for days to figure out a good way to get back into this whole blaaaaaaaaahging thing. People probably want to hear how I’m doing and what I’ve been up to.

Surviving. Dealing. Avoiding. Crying. Coping. Teeth-grinding. Eating. Working. Slacking. Worrying. Staring. Thinking. Hiding. Redecorating. Running. Sleeping. Raging. Suppressing. Sighing. Missing.

And SO MANY PEOPLE have sent me wonderful comments of support and concern and offers to help in any way they can and… I have avoided them all. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know when I will. But I’ve read everything. And I do thank you all so much for your wishes. It means the world to me.

It probably sounds totally banal, but the thing I have been doing the most to to make myself feel better is read comic books. I went through stacks of my old X-Men comics — we’re talking dozens upon dozens — until I ran out. And then I started ordering trade collections online. And going to the local comic store. I’m sort of embarrassed to even hint at how much I’ve spent on comics in the past month. I have paid rent before that cost less.

But they are really helping.

There’s this little thing called escapism.

It’s my friend.

It was actually my Dad that taught me not to be ashamed about my love of escapism. His theory? “I live in the ‘real world’. Why do I want to read about it? I want to read about things that aren’t in my world.”

And I’ve been reading comics since I was seven. My allowance, for as long as a had an allowance, was always enough for me to buy a chocolate bar or a bag of chips and three comics. So if comics went up in price, so did my allowance. And I ALWAYS spent it on that chocolate bar or bag of chips and those three comics.

(Who’s idea was that allowance setup? My Dad.)

I got out of collecting comics in university — too much money — but I always dipped my toes back in periodically. And I always had my friend Josh who kept me in the loop with trade collections every birthday and Christmas.

But now, I’m back in, baby. Full force.

I’m reading comics. To escape.

Is that a bad thing, escaping? Don’t know. Don’t care.

I’m taking my joy where I can get it right now.

If you’re looking for me, I’ll be the one in the corner hanging out with Kitty Pryde and Lockheed.

“dude srsly. what up. u r lamez. COME BACK TO THE INTERNET.”

-Sweetney

Hellzapopping, my peeps. THE GUILT. I have THE GUILT.

For the past [rustle rustle rustle] too-freaking-long, I’ve being buzzing along, with this nagging, chronic ache in my belly. An ache that said, “Sommmmethinnnnng… izzzzzzzz… wroooooonnnnng.”

But you know what I said to that nagging, chronic ache?

“Yo! My homey! Chill! Everything is GROOVY. I’m just busy. All cylinders firing, know what I’m saying? I’ll get back on that horse [Cut to shot of bleached horse skeleton in the desert, single tumbleweed drifting by] soon enough. Cool. Your. Jets.”

Yes. I really said this. And then I punched that nagging, chronic ache in the arm. Like a drinking buddy. Or second cousin.

But things… As they say — THINGS HAVE COME TO A HEAD.

I HAVE THE GUILT.

DAMN YOU, GUILT! STOP EATING MY INSIDES!

YEEEEEEEEARGH! MY PROCRASTINATION! IT GNAWS AT ME! LIKE A SECOND COUSIN, HUNGRY FOR PIE!

…

Oh. By the bye, it is My Lovely Wife’s birthday today. Shout-outs are appreciated.

As is, as always… pie.

HIALLI’MALIVEBUTI’MREALLYBUSYILOVEYOUALLEVENYOULEFTY-

[Deep breath]

STAYTUNEDIWILLBEBACK-

[The smell of burnt rubber wafts up your nostrils. You are overcome with an inexplicable craving for peanut butter chocolate chunk cookies. Even you, Lefty.]

Finding Nemo is a lie.

Oh yeah, they look all cute when you’re happily snorkeling.

There they are, peeking their little faces out from inside the anemone. Adorable!

And there they are, skittishly swimming partway up to see you. Awww! He’s curious!

And there they are, bashfully swimming away. He’s shy!

And there they are, screwing up their courage for a closer look. What a little trooper!

And there I am, distracted by the shiny blue fish that just raced by, so I turn around, and-

CHOMP!

The little bugger FRICKING BIT ME!

Over the course of two hours snorkeling, three clownfish bit me.

Lesson learned: clownfish are assholes.

[Photo credit: Mshai]

Home safe.

Sick as a dog.

A really sick jet-lagged dog.

More later.