Why Jason Todd was my favorite Robin and still has the potential to be again :
Before the creation of Damian Wayne my favorite Robin was probably everyone’s least favorite Robin, Jason Todd. To be blunt about why I had issues with the main Robins Dick Grayson and Tim Drake would be to admit that they are characters that felt predictable. The first Robin, Dick Grayson, against every other person’s vote is probably my least favorite Robin. He is prideful, showy, whorish, and the archetype of a specific comic book character : an annoyingly perfect ward. After so many years of Dick Grayson and the successful development of the Nightwing comics I can’t get over the feeling that Dick Grayson is simply always going to be Dick Grayson. The recent story line of him possibly finding true love, not with the most widely desired partner Barbra Gordon, but with ex-villain Shawn Tsang happens to be really interesting. I love when DC brings in those smaller characters in a very smooth way. I also especially love her for a character like Dick Grayson, because she was able to shock me. Shawn does an unexpectedly great job at making me enjoy Dick Grayson again. However, knowing DC’s patterns with Dick Grayson makes me less then hopeful of this feeling or their relationship continuing. The third Robin was Tim Drake. Unlike Dick Grayson, I don’t think Tim Drake necessarily is a frustrating or seemingly frequently perfect character. My problem with him is that more often then not his role makes me pity him. Tim is an excellent Detective and in many cases seems to surpass his mentor in that specific role. His skills are admirable and really captivate the reader. The problem is Tim Drake is probably the weakest fighter within the Bat Family. More often then not he seems to give off the feeling that he should not be a caped crusader within the Gotham Universe. The character Question seems to be a better fit for the environment. Especially, if you factor in the dynamics with Huntress. Even after his detective skills and survival knacks from Batman Tim Drake is often the brunt of some of the worst individual events that have happened to a Robin. He has been killed by the Joker, brainwashed by the Joker and forcibly becoming the Joker from years of psychological trauma. Those three things only cover the things the Joker did to him. They are also an example of a type of act that reflects how broken a character can become, especially when touched by the Joker, in the Gotham Universe. Tim Drake’s story always makes me want to pity him. He seems to be the middle child who is least fit for their families entire job. The current Robin is Damian Wayne. A part of me feels extremely guilty for preferring Damian over Jason. The reason is I have always felt that Damian Wayne ended up as a better character because DC cared about him more. He is the blood son of Batman. Damian has to be a successful fleshed out character and you can see that care within the DC comics. He also has been provided a great foil with Dick Grayson. Who makes his arrogant and unlikeable demeanor a true enjoyable experience. To me, Damian Wayne always felt like a reboot in a sense of what Jason Todd was supposed to be: the fighting oriented Robin who consistently teeters back and forth between the morality of kill or not to kill. He also finally gave fans a child of Batman that is considered part of the main Earth of the multiverse. As Bruce’s daughter with Selina Kyle, Helena Wayne (Huntress), is not a reoccurring explanation of her main back story. Further, backbone heroes all seemed to have strong stories with blood related children. Batman is one of the Dc heroes who has probably slept with an absurd amount of women. It was time for him to have his own child. It’s great to then see that child compete with Superman’s. Damian Wayne is currently my favorite Robin. However, I refuse to discredit Jason Todd’s potential like the rest of the DC writers.
Many years ago, one of my first fan fiction ever, I wrote down a badly written dialogue between Jason Todd and a potential female foil. As a kid, I had always wanted and waited for DC to deliver what I thought Jason Todd could be. Because of this, I left that dialogue alone in a drawer for years. The Outlaw comics turned out to be the comics that gave me false hope. They started out seemingly strong. Starfire and Roy Harper are extremely well done characters. Especially, when you see Roy’s struggles while balancing a relationship with a sexually charged powerhouse like Starfire. DC had a great chance to develop Jason Todd. Yet, by the end of the comics I read he was the only one of the trio that seemed to still fall flat. Around that time I was dealing with unresolved feelings towards unwanted sexual advances when I was a child. In a weird way, I ended up confronting the memories by the random (and badly written) fan fiction dialogues. The old note I had of a female character for Jason Todd seemed to turn into something completely else. Originally, I had desperately wanted Jason Todd to have a simple romance like the other members of the Gotham Universe. However, I will be the first one to admit I wrote a very unstable and personal character by accident. I think Jason Todd’s darker tendencies gave me an outlet to bring out darker controversial issues of growing up. Valkyrie was definitely that character. As I pulled in many of the struggles of those I’ve known into one character. I still think a complicated character and somewhat mentally unstable is a good addition to Jason Todd’s story, but it doesn’t have to be mine. The fan fiction really was about trying to think of a way to expand the character himself. I naturally wanted to fit it into the comic timeline I felt had the most potential with Jason Todd, the Outlaw comics. As it shows Jason trying to come to terms with everything and show a desire to not be a lone jaded renegade. Characters like Talon and Raven seemed like they could be a good fit, even if I don’t write them very well. Later on, I added Miss Martian in because the Young Justice version mixed with the comic book version seemed like an interesting toss up. As the Outlaws couldn’t be a team that was meant to mirror the Titans. All of the existing characters have had psychopathic and jaded moments (Starfire arguable existing as a female hero able to coexist with another who posses those traits in her undeniable sparkly way). But all of this was just was the the random moment of consideration towards a Robin I once loved.
It is at this time I put away my brief explanation of the base of my Fan Fiction to clarify something: I Love DC. Not only will I fight someone over how DC comics is better then Marvel (ignoring their cinematic blights), but some of my fondest childhood memories are of DC comics. When the Outlaw comics came out, I really wanted to have a chance to write for DC. I didn’t care that I had no comic book writing experience. What I wanted was a chance to help be a part of helping to make Jason Todd as badass as I thought he could be as a kid. What lead me to writing down the bad Fan Fiction you will read is at the time only seeing DC seemingly interested in acquiring new artists really hurt my young feelings. I started to wonder about what I thought of interesting or desired outcomes within the DC Universe outside of Jason Todd. It was at this time I was reintroduced to some of my childhood stories. Their were a collection of Norse myths that seemed to keep popping up. I switched over to the Thor comics for awhile to see how Marvel was using Norse mythology. As DC really focused on many other mythologies and seemed to lack a Norse hero. The result really frustrated me and reminded me of what I dislike about the Marvel Universe : it is so science heavy. Every Thor comic I read connected Thor’s world to some science based origin that colors the Marvel Universe. It actually was the thing that lead me to want to post my bad Fan Fiction until I had the time to fix it. My favorite and at times least favorite part of the DC Universe is that you have a disconnected Multiverse that has science based areas and realms that do cater to mythology and magic extremely well. Why hadn’t DC taken advantage of that and include Norse mythology? It felt like a weird DC fear of Marvel’s recent success. It’s like they don’t want to touch the area, because it is claimed by Marvel. Yet, the entire history of comic books is the repetition of seemingly characterized roles. I had this awfully weird childlike desire to fix Jason Todd and include Norse mythology as the way to do it.
One of the reasons I prefer DC is the Green Lantern comics. As much as Hal Jordan makes me want to pull a character out of the comics to punch in the face the other Lanterns are amazing characters (even Alan Scott). The entire Green Lanterns Universe is so well done and exhibits a good ability to give DC some feelings of continuity. Which is not an easy thing to do. My favorite Lantern happens to be Kyle Rayner. Again he is one character that is not up there as one of the more popular lanterns. However, Kyle Rayner’s start with Ganthet and lead in to becoming a White Lantern is a very successful achievement for DC. It’s also always interesting to see the constructs that come from a more artistic mind. This got me thinking of the Bi-Frost. In Marvel, the Bi-Frost simply exists as the rainbow bridge guarded by Heimdall. However, the Green Lantern comics exhibit the colors of a rainbow and assign them an emotion. Further, there exists a constant struggle of trying to maintain the right balance of power within the DC Universe and the Guardians of Oa’s desires. With the conclusion of Darkest Night it really seemed like their exists a chance to expand the Lantern Universe even more. Why not use the fact that DC has a stronger foundation is mythology and magic then Marvel and create something new. There can be a different part of the emotional spectrum.
Jason Todd is a free floater in the DC Universe. He can be used to ground an expansion and achieve the character development he desperately needs. My characters are definitely not well written. I will be the first to admit they are heavily biased, but I posted them in hopes to show potential expansions within the DC Universe. The Outlaw comics and Jason Todd provide a really good canvas to balance contrasting themes: darkness vs light, humor vs sarcasm , tongue and cheek mentalities. DC ignores the fact Jason Todd is the perfect character to create oddly perfect parallels. Valkyrie is probably one of my favorite characters I’ve ever written (even when compared to my original work) even if she is a flawed one. I really believe a flawed character is something Jason Todd is missing. A character that struggles with mental instabilities can be a good dynamic with him. I would love the chance for a better writer to develop Valkyrie into a good character, but I would also love the chance to just see my ideas implemented with new characters.
If I ever get the chance to present to DC I would want them to take away this: (1) Give Jason Todd more attention, (2) consider implementing Norse mythology in this creative way I suggested, (3) listen to your comic book readers more that have an interest in writing and (4) redo the DC cinematic experience, but this time well. As a huge comic book nerd, I know I’m not the only one whose has a head full of ideas for DC. Yea, I’m biased and think my jaded personality is like a goldmine for DC Comics, but others are also certainly around that can impress you. I may not be it, but there is definitely someone that can be.
All you need to do is listen DC. You have the overlooked characters. You have Jason Todd. You even have a huge fan base that wants to contribute. Let them. Let us. The end result is probably going to be better then you expected.
” It’s about the next level. Smarter, faster, hotter, more in tune with the changing times and changing crimes. But mostly… I guess this is about my revenge of one crazy man in a mask… on another crazy man in a mask. Heh. “
The Ultimate Frustration :
I sat in a cafe for an hour trying to explain to my friend he is fucked…
Me: You have to understand B the good guys don’t win.
*B looks at you slightly annoyed by the obvious answer.*
B: I know that.
*Me orders another cup of tea and sighs.*
Why …. FOR THE LOVE OF G-D can you not tell you are the good guy…..the way too good guy… the never going to get guy…. the guy who needs to just kiss the girl… or do anything… Please B… do anything…
I am tired of ordering so much tea.
This is what happens when your friends tell you to look at the questionnaire they filled out:
- What is your favorite word? Cheshire
- What is your least favorite word? Moist
- What turns you on? I don’t know yet. Check back when I achieve emotional growth in my next leveling.
- What turns you off? “All- American” – ness
- What is your favorite curse word? There are so many…. I’m a bonafide Sailor… Let’s go with Scheiße! “Shit”
- What sound or noise do you love? Cat purrs
- What sound or noise do you hate? Kids screaming // pots and pans echoes // Slurping Sounds
- What profession other than your own would you like to attempt? Grim Reaper // Shinigami
- What profession would you not like to do? Any cubicle job
- If Heaven exists, what would you like to hear God say when you arrive at the Pearly Gates? This is not a joke. You did manage to get here. That being said you can go left for fun hell or right for Valhalla… or back for administration work.
- FunFact :: These questions were originally asked on “Bouillon de Culture” by Bernard Pivot.
So as you can see, I have managed to write most of my set writing goals per day. However, I normally fell asleep before I got a pic or music attached it. I sort of figured that I’d just push through this EXTREMELY busy working season and some of my health stuff and upload as much as I can at once. There is still some stuff missing (mostly because I haven’t found the time to type up the ending arcs I wrote down “somewhere”), but it should be enough to tamper the tide for a little bit. A lot of the stuff I post is just unedited ideas that I either want to develop into better fan fiction or as starting points for my own original works. That being said when you start to go through these- or have already been one of the few people reading the first set- keep that in mind. The stories themselves will be edited as time goes on.
Thank you for understanding ❤
Your very overworked,
“So that’s your sister?” asks Dee in a quiet voice.
“The one you risked your life for?”
The twins nod politely in that automatic way that people do when they don’t want to say something insulting.
“Your family any better?” I ask.
Dee and Dum look at each other, assessing.
“Nah,” says Dee.
“Not really,” says Dum at the same time.”
― Susan Ee,
I believe that family is one of the greatest mysteries in life. For some it is a hierarchical gathering for mutual benefit and survival. For others it is an oversized table filled with warmth, understanding and an obscene amount of food. Personally, I find it as somewhere in the grey area. I don’t think it is a surprise to anyone if I said I grew up and exist in what is an unhealthy family. It is one of things I hint at/largely complain about in my writing. Believe it or not, I do try my best to not directly write about it. The key word being try. It’s part of the mystery to me why the idea of “family” can be so lodged into us. I can rationalize it with a conservative and traditional upbringing, a tendency to over-empathize with loyalty bonds and a warped ecosystem created from a mutual destructive social order. But for the life of me, I cannot understand why the fact that I would do anything for them exists in me. Even now, as I sit in this tiny 24 Hour Dunkin Donuts- mooching off of free wifi, coffee and a large comfortable booth to relax in so I can get through this one night- I feel the heart pain of loving my family. I know I’ve been kicked out of my mom’s house for the millionth time, I know my issues with my grandparent’s force me from relying on them, I know I’m a horrible cat mother for leaving my two cats alone at night, but there is still that tiniest part of me that stays a nauseating rosy pink. Earlier today, I found myself sitting on the floor leaning against the wall of my house. One of my knees were facing up the ceiling and the other was laid out in front of me. My hands had fallen dead in the center of my lap and I was wailing. I was wailing at the top of my lungs. It was exactly like a movie or a manga. Something, I am not proud of. This may be surprising to you, but I don’t cry about my own personal problems very often. Not anymore. I had made the conscious decision at thirteen years old to not be the one who sits in their room’s corner and cries all the time. I was more of a fun of punching a bag too hard, or staring aimlessly into the corner. The result is that when I do cry it is messy like this. I exhibit the awful and overwhelming colors of angst, rejection, and void of emotions. It is unbearable to live through or to watch. The worst part of the moment is this whole process I continually go through in my head. It’s this endless morbid stream of consciousness. My thoughts first go to shooting myself in the head. Then I quickly realize that it is not an option, because it would leave behind too much of a mess. The thought of someone having to walk in on that and clean it seems to be disheartening. If the whole goal of killing yourself is to remove yourself of existence how can you leave a mess like that behind. It’s unclean and horribly rude. The thought then becomes the idea of death by pills. It doesn’t seem that painful, so I am certainly not torturing myself. The problem with that is I cannot swallow pills very well. I always get the tiny ones stuck at the base of my neck and have to eat them with food. It is pretty painful as it is. Having to take that many at that slow of rate seems like it would mess up the whole process. I would either fail or cause an even bigger mess. Jumping off a bridge, hanging, starvation…all the conventional methods seem to leave me with a huge amount of feelings about messes, cowardice and pointlessness. My next idea is using all of my money to fly to Japan and get lost in Aokigahara (this started before it became a popularized topic in America and a move was made about it). I mean it seemed like it wouldn’t be that much of a mess. It was literally a secluded forest where people gathered to die. It’s not like I needed to be buried in a Jewish cemetery, and the place still had a lot of the spirituality signs I creepily couldn’t overcome. It wouldn’t be so bad to be a vengeful ghost or to be spirited away by the Tengu. At the very least, it would be its own kind of adventure. Then I quickly realize that with my complete fear of ghosts I would never even allow myself to get to the parking lot in front of the forest. Then I begin to wonder about becoming an alcoholic or should I start to cut myself. The problem with alcohol is in the States I’m not old enough to buy alcohol. It’s not like I know anyone who would buy it for me. Besides, my mother was a teacher. I couldn’t do something that could get her to loose her licenses. It wasn’t appealing enough to me. Then there was the idea to cut myself. Although, I am an ample prescriber to physical pain to block out emotional, I can never get over my aversion into cutting into flesh. Many a times I have in the past run my hand in hot water, pressed a sharp object into my skin or even worked out to the point of being unable to stand and having torn up skin on my hands or knees. Yet, I could never physically run a sharp object across my skin. The idea of it made me want to vomit. By the end of this entire transition from point A to point B I feel crappy. Maybe I wasn’t the coward my mom thought I was. Maybe I was something even worse. I couldn’t even have suicidal thoughts right. And it wasn’t even because I wanted to live. It was because I wanted to die, but I had no desire to kill myself. It was such an oxymoron. By this point the wailing stops and my head slumps forward and no emotion exists in me. I try to fill my head with logical steps I need to fix the situation, but I tell myself to be honest about you being only able to follow through with a quarter of the things you should do. Then I try to give myself back emotion by thinking about all the little moments of growth I did. Which fails, because they are often little. The innate desire in me to jump leaps and bounds always makes this method useless. Finally, the process ends with me standing up, sitting down on the floor, putting my head phones on, swaddling in an oversized blanket and zoning out to alternative music. I literally zone out for about an hour. When I finally resurface all I do is stand up and walk up stairs and try to get on with my daily work. The problem with tonight is I didn’t end it there. I grabbed the leftover boxes from when we were supposed to move and just started packing up my life. Half of my stiff fit in six boxes. I texted my mom and told her if she really wanted me to move out and not pay for university it was fine. I would sleep out of the house tonight and have everything out tomorrow. I lugged half of my childhood life down the stairs and into my mom’s beaten up herbie. By the time I got in the car the song Not Gonna Die came on. It gave me back my first step of emotion. The weird mixture of feeling free and being anxious. In the car I gained back even more emotion when the song Kings came on. I remembered everything that made me who I was: pride. I texted my grandparents and told them I was going to impose on them by storing my stuff in their attic. Some touching country music on the ride over and the realization that I can apply for a student loan at fair Canadian rates vs. American rates I may be able to eventually walk the path of independency. All it would take is me stopping the half assed I will do it slowly plan I had committed too. So now, after all of that I sit at this Dunkin Donuts. Listening to a new OneOkRock song, reviewing a financial plan for living in Canada alone, and wondering if maybe one day I can be the type of person who overcomes everything and gets to give a pretty motivational speech at a convention. The only thought that persists in my mind is the curiosity on wether my biggest sin is my pride, or the amount I give myself to those I care for….
Dear Everyone Whom It May Concern,
I know many people don’t actually read my blog, or if you do it is probably not in any sense a committed practice. Still, I need to take the chance to apologize. I left you with a promise of all these things I was going to do. When I didn’t accomplish most of them. When I went home for the summer I found out my health issues were a lot worse then anyone thought. The more people started throwing around words like Cancer, Autoimmune Disease, Chronic Illnesses, I retreated into my little corner. Everything became about proving these words wrong and finding the new exact one that would explain everything that happened. Now, it seems like they’ve found an answer…I don’t know what it will be yet, or even how bad the word will be. What I do know is that I don’t think it will give me the peace of mind I had been struggling for. If I am being honest with myself, the only one who can give that to me is myself. Now, I know I haven’t accomplished much. That I am very much still the Kvetching Jewish girl. But now I am someone who truly for the first time wants to try and not be that. I want to take the step forward into fighting my fears. The first step for me is to face my issues with exposing the majority of my original writing. I have already taken the steps to getting it out there through other means (cross my fingers I can announce good results soon), but I also want to challenge myself here with that. From now on, I am dedicated to posting more messages, more positive then not, and working on expanding an idea I’ve always wanted to grow: I.L. Knight.
Thank You for reading this,
P.S. If you do stop by and read this…Feel free to comment on anything. I love constructive criticism and opinions. Please and Thank You ❤
For a long time, as in like a week ago, I considered wether or not I wanted to write a post about this. Ironically enough I didn’t want to be whiny and yes, I am aware of the fact I often sound whiny in my blog posts. To be fair about that though, writing is how I deal with my feelings so I can’t help it if sometimes it becomes an angsty, sob fest. Thats the mindset of a twenty year old… Still, by bringing this up I am concerned about sounding even more whiny then normal and so I will try my best to word this as logically as possible. Furthermore, I am not someone who enjoys involving others in my confrontations. On this note I hope to make it as non-specific as possible.
A couple of days ago, I was having a conversation on Facebook about an upcoming anime con. A joke was made sometime during the conversation that led to a sudden blowup. If this was gonna be the general trend between me and this former close friend of mine- we had grown apart due to different friend groups post high school graduation- then I didn’t want to put myself in the same hotel room with her for a four day vacation. This wasn’t something I wanted to turn into a big deal though. Even though we weren’t close friends anymore I did generally enjoy having her around; especially, enjoyed a peaceful con atmosphere.
I decided the best choice was to message her privately asking what I said that annoyed her. After two days and no response, I got annoyed. I decided to message her again this time slightly more pointed. Her response was very sarcastic and rude. Asserting that we had some tiny disagreement and that I was stuck on this. I didn’t know how to respond. That blatant jab at past issues in her thinly veiled attempt at being civil was beyond what I expected. This was not the response I was expecting. At twenty years old and a two year relationship of us being civil, the response should of been more polite at the least. Clearly, somewhere in the not talking being civil was no longer the foreign relations agreement. If that was the case all I could do was the end the conversation there.
What upsets me most about this exchange I guess is the sense of nostalgia ad melancholy it brings up. Don’t get me wrong. It’s not a traumatic, or that sad event. Never the less, it is an event that makes you spend a few brief moments recalling what was, what transitioned and what was the result. Just a few brief moments is all it takes for you to go over the crumbling of what you thought was a good friendship. That’s what hurts. A friendship being boiled down to a few brief moments in your head is like the end result of caring gone wrong.
At the end of the day it’s like watching a short that shows you the story of a friendship between a naive girl and a girl who used someone. Once the girl became more useful as a subject to bring up in a negative light, that’s the path the friendship went. It’s sad that everything ended up like that and it makes me angry. I am so angry that I was naive enough during all of it. I let myself be used and I never confronted the situation. The one time I did, it’s too late to mean anything. Don’t be like me guys. Regret is never good. Stand up to people. It’s always better then the alternative. Real friends will stay by your side.
I’m sitting here in the middle of a Nordstrom’s shoe section looking at an angry mom waiting for her sister to show up and a herd of thirteen year old’s “OMG. These are shoes are only 198$. I can totally afford these and still buy concert tickets with my allowance.” I remembered why I always felt alone-different. The motivation I haven’t had for awhile was stagnant in the mall’s air. This is what inspired me years ago. The desire to not be anything like the hometown bubble I grew up in. I never wanted to be someone just pretty on the outside. Similarly, I never wanted to be someone just pretty on the inside. Growing up in nouveau-riche South Florida taught me the importance of both a pretty well liked packaging and the need for an equally pretty content on the inside. My motivation was to be a complete package and to be one in a town that wouldn’t turn future me or my future kids into the very same people I grew up with.
Thinking back to a conversation I had with a friend the other night, I can only agree with him more. Hometowns aren’t always the best to return too. Especially, hometowns like Boca Raton. When we came home three things happened: (i) nostalgia, (ii) reminiscing and (iii) thoughts of the future. If I have ever listened any words of wisdom from therapists, online blog, buddhist monks, friends or family it’s that happiness comes from living in the moments. If you dwell in the past or the future you can never be happy. Returning home for me is a dangerous cancer. It is a set back to growth.
There was the sudden logic to my anxiety and chaotic dislike for being present anywhere in this town. I came to a war barely being able to hold my sword. Just as only Arthur could pull the sword from the stone, not everybody can come back to their hometown and be happy. If I spent my whole life admiring birds for being free, how in the hell can I then find happiness by returning to the same nest I was born to? It is impossible. If I ever fully want to grow up and learn to move on, to get past trials and tribulations, or even just become an adult. I need to accept the fact that all I’ve ever wanted to do was leave the nest. That my decision to admire freedom was never something wrong in the first place.
Motivation is something that will never come easy for me. Biology works against me. However, maybe just remembering what I came from will be a guide to keeping little pieces of it along my road. After all, I am looking at everything I never wanted to become and realizing that yes I may not be the shiny convertible everyone wants to buy, but I am allowing myself to be the beat up Toyota with 60,000+ miles that can’t be fixed up. The person I was and aim to be has aspirations.
Tonight will be a night to try and not think. Since I was kicked out of my house I will do what I always like to do. I will look up at the night sky, listen to the crickets, and imagine a fantastical adventure in the starry landscape I longed to see again.
Tired, Sad and Strangely Motivated,