GREEN MACHINE COMIX// indie comic by indie girl

After watching To All the Boys I Loved Before, I was like damn I gotta write, draw, and make more.

I make a Facebook post. Friends sent you love and videos because of the pandemic and inability to visit. My core family showed up. And as soon as you smelled cookies, you picked that heavy body to still ask for some. Your love for food outweighs cancer pains. We were in awe of your strength as you tried to walk around, howl, and then grow back tired. I know you wanted to give us one more good day when you stood with your front legs watching us. When Jeddah and Gilda came to say goodbye a couple of hours before you had to return to the vet, you greeted them like always and then hid in the dark hallway embarrassed how weaker you kept getting. In between this whole day of struggle and strength, you cleared your bowels periodically even while difficult. I keep thinking of this day and realizing your intelligence to gracefully pass. When it was the last hour and I was worried how to transport you, you went back to your Christmas bed to lie down and accept the last rub downs from me and Coy Sr to the song of Lionel Ritchie’s “You are.” Coy and I were able to carry you out like a stretcher the way we did when we took you to the vet on Friday. You turned your head to look at our door probably in an attempt to long for the old man who became your best friend in your last year of life. We put you in the back of the Kia Soul and you began to stand up on those strong little legs watching the street of Grimsby one more time smiling. Smiling?? When we arrived to the vet you perked up at the sight of the hospital team. Whenever I feel guilty about your death, I remember your calm, happiness, and trust when they received you. You always had a human response of rejecting or accepting humans. Today you asked to be carried in. I was a crying mess in the room and am so grateful for Coy who anchored the two of us. You still sat there smiling peacefully standing. We played your Lionel Ritchie song one more time. That’s how you wanted the world to remember you. A dog taught me that. No matter how old, how sick, how torn up you can be, in this life you stand for you. Those few days prior I wanted to ask God for a miracle, but I couldn’t ask for more than the 14 years of Miracle Mia. We kissed every morning and night, a love that is unforgettable. You cuddled my divorce family and stayed as a constant family member despite the separation. I bought my house to accommodate you with fake grass and tile. But you endured cancer for a year by putting a strong face forward and loving us with all that you had. When I think of you, I think of resilience and love rolled into the doggy donut you are.

Thank you to my mom for teaching me intentionally and unintentionally. We are bound for life.

I don’t want to be another person in my entire generation that did not look back, pause, and heal. I am the last in line with pieces of privilege attached to me.

This zine is called Secrets. I brought soup to my moms room and she wanted to drink it alone in case she had Covid. I stood in the dark hallway and saw how quiet her pain as she aged and the picture of her smiling younger self hung on the wall.

In this zine, I was not born or around for many of the secret moments. So here’s a small reimaging (I’m pretty sure she didn’t have a machine gun, but there really was that many roaches lol) My mom endured every day hardships to make sure I could operate in this world with a little less pain. This zine is an apology for having to endure these things alone.

The last two pages are on the following post since there’s a 10 page limit.

I don’t want to be another person in my entire generation that did not look back, pause, and heal. I am the last in line with pieces of privilege attached to me.

This zine is called Secrets. The cover is based on a moment when I brought soup to my moms room and she wanted to drink it alone in case she had Covid. I stood in the dark hallway and saw how quiet her pain as she aged and the picture of her smiling younger self hung on the wall.

In this zine, I was not born or around for many of the secret moments. So here’s a small reimaging (I’m pretty sure she didn’t have a machine gun, but there really was that many roaches lol) My mom endured every day hardships to make sure I could operate in this world with a little less pain. This zine is an apology for having to endure these things alone.

The last two pages are on the following post since there’s a 10 page limit.

I’m grieving the loss of...

NEW Leadership Nevada. Comics and Zine Festival. Geek Week Keynote. Utah weekend trip. In person podcast recordings for Bruha. Vegas Valley Comic Book Festival. Student Art show. Comic Anthology Planning. Teaching in the classroom.

The most difficult time of day is...

Going to bed and waking up. I hate going to bed because I wake up with the burden of inventing solutions. I hate waking up because I always feel like I wasted another day of the quarantine, not doing enough for my job or my family.

I especially miss...

Myself. How strong and brave I felt before the quarantine. Being indoors has been a psychological mind fuck. I don’t have a pulse on how healthy or unhealthy my body and mind are.

My favorite memory is...

Going to any of the book stores to find new books to read and bump into friends I love. I love reading and finding books by artists I aspire to be.

My support system includes...

My husband has tried to make me feel beautiful, useful, and wanted. Friends like Gilda, Nicole, and Gina and Teela check in on me periodically. My mom has enough room in her heart to make me food even with being on the front lines.

I wish my friends would say or do...

Not shame how people grieve. Not hate on everything. Be less angry. Be less judgmental. Open themselves to vulnerability too.

It is hurtful when people...

Think they have all the causes and solutions to this pandemic. It is also hurtful when people apply too much pressure on me to act. It’s hurtful that I am the punching bag of other folks. It’s hurtful when no one sees how I am drowning in grief too and expect me to be strong all the time like I was before this pandemic.

The things that help me the most right now are...

Drawing helps me feel the emotion of sadness head on. Running helps me reconnect with my body’s strength. Amy Winehouse’s music helps me hear my grief’s sound track. My job’s pay helps me keep my family afloat. My mom’s love and courage help me have a role model. My faith in God helps me love beyond measure.

When I’m alone. I...

Wonder if people love me. I wonder if I will be ready for my path to change in survival. I wonder if I will be valued for being an innovator. I wonder if I will have the courage to finish the comics I love doing.

I will lean on...

As I pray for the renaissance during the quarantine and embark on my journal comics Quaran-jean, I feel my grief crawl in and out of my skin. Using the means to be creative and start unfinished projects is a beautiful thing happening during the crisis. But my love for projects is twisted right now.

Pre-quarantine, I am a logistics master. I love community building. But every time I think about my community work in comics and comic event planning, I feel myself reject that rigorousness. I am writing to investigate why someone with so much time is also not using that time.

Here are my theories within this self reflection:

1. When I think about the last time I’d ever done something for myself by myself, it was five years ago. It was before anyone knew me or my magic. It’s a reminder that I’d not been thinking about myself for over 5 years. I’d given so much of my life in teaching and community organizing that self care and internal work were left behind. I’d stopped caring about me.

2. In addition to putting myself on the back burner, how have I improved? I’d stop posting consistently on here my bearded babe. I go back and forth on the draft of Stretch Marks with its incomplete ending. I think about how indispensable I’ve branded myself to be. I’ve ignored my truths to share because I gave so much of my creative-love-energy away.

3. If I don’t produce this next important life’s work before the quarantine is lifted, will I again be slave to saying yes to everyone? Will I’ve learned that my art work is as important as the community work I do? Bottom line is, will I’ve learned that I can’t be everything to everyone?

The beautiful things I’ve learned in this time while being forced, encouraged, and shamed to stay home:

1. I know I will miss this time of quiet

2. I know I will conquer my nightmares

3. I am on borrowed time with this life

4. If tomorrow for me ended, I know every person in my life knew my love for them.

5. I am grateful for the sunlight view from my window and the fresh air I have the privilege of breathing when I let my dog out.

6. That what I do is enough even if others disagree

7. Mindfulness of how each feeling is processed and passes when I am unplugged to the internet is the most human I will feel in a long time

8. Releasing fear and hate is daily practice

People say to me all the time they wish their relationship was a lot like me and Coy. I owe the best things about our relationship to feminism. We are constantly unlearning what we’ve been conditioned to be like as a hetero-normative couple. We are both cheering each other on as we confront our vulnerabilities, weaknesses, and strengths. It’s not easy. It’s never easy to be together. For a long time when we started this relationship, people saw how much more masculine I appeared compared to him and that he’s wrong for me because of his ethnicity. Layers upon layers of social conditioning to break us apart. But he accepted me for me and helped me see myself as someone absolutely and unquestionably powerful. 

There’s so many reasons why I started drawing Bearded Babe. Yeah I love him. Yeah he’s amusing. But deep down, he teaches me every day that love is not something commercial, but moment to moment sincerity exchanged unconditionally. Sometimes that looks like laughter. Sometimes that looks like a fight. Most times it’s the quiet safety knowing merely he exists in this world to reassure me humanity is worth living and striving for.

It’s been over a year since I made my own comics. What a journey! I usually upload new comics every Wednesday because it’s NEW COMICS WEDNESDAY everywhere (especially at your local comics shops). Here’s a few things I was able to accomplish in my absence.

1. Complete Issue 2 of The Magic Glasses

2. Color the first issue of Heavens Bastards by Pierce Elliott and Donovan Peterson

3. Coordinate, edit, and crowd fund with Kickstarter for the first time to produce Queens Comic Anthology

4. Travel to Denver for the first time with nominations for comic zine awards

5. Travel to Amazing Con in Arizona for a free table

6. Commit to two rounds of group therapy

7. Start a Pinay Podcast called Bruha Baddies with Rosalina Trinidad

8. Run an annual Women’s Leadership College Program

9. Planning to attend two amazing leadership programs in the fall: Spark Women’s Retreat (where I get to be a leader) and Girls Leadership (attending on scholarship)

10. Plan and execute two Artist Spotlights at Alternate Reality Comics

11. Increase my mentor ships with high school students and adults

12. Help plan a Comic & Zines fest with activist colleagues Gina Parham, Nicole Espinosa, and Tiff Stiles.

13. Partner with a number of start up groups on getting the word out about their amazing goals like Womxn’s Coffeehouse, Snazzy Publishing, GALS Las Vegas, and NVTESOL.