is this an airport?

‘Cause I brought all my baggage with me.

Someone put me down for employment in a classroom, because I have been projecting so hard.

By the way, this post might end up kind of incoherent, because I’m immune to caffeine and, as I type this sentence, it’s 2:38 a.m., but I figure that’s okay, because this is technically just for a completion mark with a very low required word count, and it’s not like I’m short of things to say. This extremely last minute writing will probably become a theme with me, so strap in.

Note: my group was in charge of the past week’s Ms. Marvel presentation, but I’ll try not to sound like a broken record. Luckily, I had a whole string of thoughts that didn’t make it to the final cut, and dear Janna scribed it all as I ranted on, so I think I’ll be talking about that. Well, I might have to revise them, seeing as my thoughts changed a little going into vol. 2, but maybe not. Maybe I’ll be lazy. I am always lazy.

Let’s begin an incredibly disorganized list of things I have to say:

  • Ms. Marvel was a perfect canvas onto which I could vomit all of my infinite immigrant/suffering child feelings.
    • I’m pretty sure I overreacted to this, but there’s an instance quite early on where Kamala’s dad asks her why she can’t be more like Bruno. That’s the only time I can remember him comparing her to anyone else, but man, I blew up. Honestly, what a way to hit a sore spot. I wouldn’t have to worry about my tuition costs if I had a dollar for every time my parents compared me to my classmates/friends/brother. It triggered a knee-jerk hatred towards Kamala’s dad, which I will now admit was pretty unfair, because he’s pretty all right, ultimately, but why is this book attacking me.
    • Kamala wants to be white. The comic is not subtle about it, and doesn’t really need to be. This was an actual issue I had as a kid, and still is, to some extent. I mean, I didn’t view it as an issue when I was younger. I just understood it to be a fact of life that you had to be white to be, like, pretty, or famous. Sometime during the primary grades, I remember being in media studies class, and our teacher was going over certain persuasive tactics companies use in their advertisements. One of those things was to use models–to use pretty people. This made sense, of course, but I very quickly noticed that pretty much every example we were shown used white models. Not just that, but in the time that followed, I would turn a scrutinizing eye to just about every ad I saw–ones on TV, billboards, bus stops, everything. Running theme? White people. So many. Like, basically all of them, which, to me, translated to mean that whiteness was just a prerequisite for prettiness. Around that time, I also noticed that a lot of the stuff I watched (hello, 2000s Family Channel) mostly featured white actors. I distinctly recall pondering how I would have to change my name if I ever somehow became an actress, because Isabelle Li wasn’t going to cut it. The first part was okay, but the rest didn’t really line up with Cole & Dylan Sprouse and Ashley Tisdale and David Henrie and Miley Cyrus. I am now aware that this is a stupid line of thinking, but Eurocentric standards of beauty do still take their toll on me. I can’t help but look at my reflection sometimes and wish I had blue or green or something eyes. That said, the eyes are the window to the soul, so maybe it’s right that they’re so dark.
    • Do I sound edgy yet?
    • On a related note, wow, is that a need to distance oneself from their home culture I hear? Look at that, Kamala, you’re me.
      vol 1 pg 20
      I, as a child, told my parents innumerable times that I would not agree with them on certain things because I was raised in not just a different city, but on the other side of the world. I eventually stopped because it was and remains a lost cause, but the point remains. (Fun fact: I used to get into heated arguments with my dad as a kindergartener during which I would scream that I wasn’t Chinese, I was Canadian. To be fair, part of why I did this was that these fights were always on the drive to Saturday Chinese school, and Saturday Chinese school just sucked a lot in general and I didn’t want to go, but I also kind of hated the label of “Chinese.” My dad would retort with a correction–“you’re Chinese-Canadian”–but if I get into the topic of hyphenated Canadians, this post will actually never end.) There are big ol’ cultural gaps in our relationship, and although far from the only one, it’s a huge strain. We have very different benchmarks for success–
      vol 1 pg 124
      –and a million differences in how we communicate. Actually, it’s only ever during rare early morning conversations that my parents (my dad, really) and I can kind of see eye-to-eye. Well, actually, I’m not sure he really sees into my eyes, but he at least bends down to somewhere I can see into his.
      My father is a very flawed man. I came to this realization much earlier than I think I should have, and it has never stopped reminding me of its presence. He has many poor habits and bad mannerisms that have taken root in me, no matter how hard I’ve tried to fight them, and he has, in many ways, twisted and embittered me. Ways in which he has hurt me are not discounted or made okay because he loves me–but that’s the thing. For all of his (seriously…many) faults, I would still be a liar if I said he does not love me, and I would be doubly so if I said that he has not sacrificed for me. I can only understand and appreciate this because of this kind of conversation:
      vol 1 pg 103
      Guess who has two thumbs and might have cried when she read this. Stab me harder, Wilson, why not?
    • I feel like there are more things I have to say on this topic, but it is now 4:25 a.m. Granted, I stopped for maybe twenty minutes to deal with laundry, but I’ve been working for a while. Not just on this, but in general. I’ve burned through several albums and something like 1.75 musicals. By the way, give Come From Away and 21 Chump Street a listen. First is Canadian and was Tony-nominated and second is only one act, so it’s about fifteen minutes, if you have a quarter of an hour to kill. Both are politically relevant (in general, that is, not necessarily to Ms. Marvel, although I guess the first one is a little related), I would say.
    • Sorry, sorry. That’s a detour.
  • In the spirit of consistency, I thought that since I was pretty bad about suspension of disbelief with All-Star Superman, I would give some honourable mentions to particular things that caught my eye this comic’s go-round.
    • In the first two issues of vol. 2, Kamala’s scarf flows in some kind of nonexistent wind. Also, it’s…super long. Don’t get me wrong, the aesthetic is great, but 1) seriously, where is that wind coming from? and 2) a scarf that long become a liability. Like, an adversary could just yank it back and you would choke.
      vol 2 pg 11
    • I also have many questions regarding Cockathomas. The Ediclone, if you prefer.
      vol 2 pg 13
      Avian Ed here is a wonder. The man (bird? bird-man? birn?) is a living, breathing chimera of wildly separate species, but instead of studying the biological wonder that he himself is, he goes out of his way to convince teenagers to do weird things. Why? Science the hell out of yourself, man. Leave the millenials out of this.
      Also: the Avianventor looks a little short of modernly dressed. Was he trying to emulate the original Edison’s clothing? Which unpaid intern had to go on a thrift shopping spree to satisfy Bird Brain’s fashion sense? If no one did that, did he have to purchase his outfits online? Did he commission someone off Etsy to make them? These are the origin stories I need.
    • Maybe I’m too sleep deprived, but I don’t think it was ever explained why Edison, Second Ed-ition needed lights and cameras and such on his gators.
      vol 2 pg 14
      Why? Are they production assistants? Are we looking at the future of Buzzfeed? What’s happening?
    • What convinced Medusa that Kamala is special? She seems to decide that she is based on the photo the Cap shows her, not Wolverine’s word, but what’s special about the picture?
      vol 2 pg 45.PNG
      Do gyros offer some kind of halo effect? Do they rank up there with Avengers shawarma?
  • I love Lockjaw. Good boy.
    • Ms. Marvel likes to do things a little offbeat, which apparently extends to doggos. It’s a little brilliant that Kamala immediately brought her giant canine back to her house and directly asked to keep him. It’s even better that her family honestly just lets it happen (although I don’t know why they don’t question the tuning fork in his head). I’m also a fan of the moment Kamala’s dad points out that Lockjaw shouldn’t be in the house, but gives him a pat anyway.
      vol 2 pg 84.PNG
  • There are…so many visual gags in both volumes. I would compile all of them, but it would take too long. In a time update, it is now 5:08 a.m., so yeah, that wouldn’t be the best use of my time. Trust me, though, there are a million. Pay attention to the background and ye shall be rewarded.
  • Okay, I’m too tired to really discuss this, but it at least deserves recognition:
    vol 2 pg 109.PNG
    I never thought of it that way, so thank you, Wilson. It’s good food for thought.

That’s it. We’re done. I will end your suffering and mine. I’m cutting this post off here. I still have to write two replies and probably a paper for my other English class. Will I sleep? Who knows? Tune in next week to find out!

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