Comic-Con International is coming up this week and I am irrationally, inordinately, ridiculously SUPER-pumped for it…especially for some one who’s not even going.
I don’t know how it is that I’ve never been. Comic-Con is a shining beacon of and for nerdom around the world. Teeming masses of fans, friends, artists, cosplay exhibitionists, geeks, gamers, and not a few of the just-curious descend upon San Diego every year to get the scoop on what’s coming up in all things story-related or comics-inspired.
It used to be overlooked at best and derided at worst twenty years ago; now a Comic-Con panel is THE place to unveil any project that wants to be cool (or at least, wants to make tons of money). As with any gathering of thousands united around a single cause or idea, it definitely attracts its fair share of nutcases and extremists, but at heart Comic-Con is a giant, fearless celebration of imagination.
I LOVE IT.
I keep thinking to myself, I wonder what Joss Whedon is doing right now?! – because you just know there’s something awesome on deck for the Avengers panel. I also wonder how many of the attendees are rushing around in a tizzie trying to get their costumes together, how the convention center staff feels about it (anticipation or dread?), and how Zack Snyder can sleep after choosing to enter no presentation at all for Superman vs. Batman. I am mystified by the games arena (haven’t played a video game regularly since Q*bert) and in awe of the vast array of panels open to the public. As you can easily surmise, attending Comic-Con someday, somehow is way up there on my bucket list.
Naturally, all of this has me contemplating superhero stories yet again, and how they have grown so rapidly in resonance over the last decade or two. When I was in high school, fanboys were fodder for bullies and snark, and fangirls were rare, mysterious creatures on par with unicorns. Now, nearly everyone in the general population of America has a favorite superhero, and every personality quiz will at some point ask what super power you would choose if you could. We have absorbed the stories (if not yet the fanboys) into mainstream culture and filter many of our own stories through their lens.
It doesn’t take a psychology degree to assess why super powers are so appealing; the answer is all in the origin stories. A young, bullied nerd becomes an agile, cool, smart-mouthed defender of the defenseless. A mega-rich, genius inventor of weapons is humbled and dons his armor to end war instead of equip it. Two orphans – each alone in precise and excruciating ways – derive purpose and power in the very sources of their alienation; one finds the human connection that he craves, the other the isolation that soothes his scars. It’s easy to find ourselves and fuel our ambitions in their narratives.
In this, the “real” world, I have decided that there is only one visible super power, and every human being on earth has been equipped with it from the first day they entered the atmosphere. It is the power of Choice.
Choice is everything. It determines the quality of my every day and the direction of my journey. It gives me the power to soar over my circumstances or be crushed beneath them, to overpower resistance or be driven by it, to join the battle with the rest of the called or shrink and hide and lose both the struggle and the victory.
Choice determines the course of my adventures and whether they will even BE adventures, or merely an accidental series of unappreciated moments carelessly toppling over each other.
As with any super power, Choice can be used for good or for evil. It can be mutated to generate toxicity in the form of Judgmentalism, which is the choice to condemn the way others use their power. The only thing it can’t do is be eliminated, for even doing nothing is itself an act of Choice.
Choice is the greatest power in the world; all others are merely its fruit.