And now, a brief moment to lament my exile.

The further I get from tech school the more exhausting I find formal school to be.  I had a five-day computer course last week (not counting spending all fucking day at the place on Saturday while those morons set up the network so they could do the test.  Something they could've done--I don't know--Friday afternoon while we were all studying our books?!) and it really kicked my ass.  Today, I get to work and get moved from my comfortable expected duty to another classroom.  Yeesh.

I think not getting my weekly dose of comics is getting to me.  I get them by mail and hearsay over the internet.  It's not the same.  I miss the talking  Only one other comic geek in the office, and he only keeps track of Marvel through Wikipedia.  And beyond Marvel continuity, he's not much for comics conversation.   I can blog, but I'm even farther off timezone from all of you tan before so there's no realtime reaction.

I think I was addicted to Wednesday.   It wasn't just reading the comics that was relieving the stress.  It was the whole local comic shop experience!  The real life social aspect of being a geek was just as important to my mental well being as the stimulation to my imagination.  It was vital.  Some weeks Wednesday afternoon was the only time I saw a humand being who wasn't a coworker.  I relished it.  I'm going through withdrawal here.

Every week I'd drive to the shop that afternoon no matter what's happened--tornados, snowstorms, elections--nothing could stop me!  I'd rush in and Chris would have my stack in his hands along with some of his recommendations.  Chris had the best taste in art.  I'd spend anywhere from a few minutes to several hours chatting with a couple of certified geeks about writers and artists, politics, and who last slept with Nightwing.  We'd resolve the personal problems of our favorite superheroes, come up with surefire plans that would make comics popular again, determine the best way to write a strong female character, and save the country from its leaders before we each wlked out with our little pamphletts of four-color joy.

I miss that.