Today I posted on Facebook “…..is not a happy camper.” I was having a bad day. I was pure, distilled grumpanella. I probably still am. It was one of those two-steps-forward-and-three-steps-back kind of days. Nothing seemed to go quite right and I couldn’t seem to do anything quite right.
Yesterday was brilliant. A visit from a family member, fairly mild weather (within the context of this summer’s heat), got a free dessert at lunch, bought some books, did not have to constantly watch for police while riding around town since the car tag has been updated, heard some nice music in the evening. Yup, pretty good day.
Took a Facebook quiz that said, “Which Marvel Super Hero Are You? (Realistic)” It was the ‘realistic’ part that got me. Which fictional super human with bizzare and amazing skills are you, realistically? Yup.
Apparently, I am Wolverine. I did not expect this but it was just fine. After all, Wolverine is pretty awesome and he’s got that super quick healing ability and stuff. Even if I am a girl, I figure I could just be a girl Wolverine. Wolverina?
But today I was feeling the famous Wolverine grumpiness. Every slight was personal. Every thing triggered a hurtful memory. Nobody understands me. Nobody likes me. Everybody hates me. I’m gonna go eat worms. (ok, not literally here, but you get the picture) I just wanted to poke someone in the eye with a pointy claw or something. If I’d had a cigar, I’d have been chomping on it and muttering to myself.
A friend of mine posted this reply to my FB status: “When I’m not a happy camper I return home.”
Now that may be best reply ever. Of course, every time we have a bad day we can’t go home. It is not reasonable, both literally and figuratively speaking, to say that when things go awry we should turn around and head back, crawl into bed, pull the covers over our head and sleep the rest of the day away. Even if we want to, most of us can’t.
But I started thinking about something. If you know very much about the X-Men then you do know at least a little bit about Wolverine… or Logan. What Logan seems to really want is to do just that: to go home. To go to some place where it can all be better, where the hurts are healed–really healed–and no one cares that you’ve screwed things up and you are loved even if you aren’t ‘normal’.
I’m not so sure Logan had that kind of home. In fact, I’m not so sure many of us really did. However, I have learned from years of reading comics and watching movies with super heroes in them that superheroes are actually just like the rest of us with some fancy add-ons. The appeal of them isn’t that they are NOT like us but that they ARE like us. I think Wolverine is a favorite of so many because there are a lot of Logans in the world. A lot of us who, from time to time, are unhappy campers and want to return home.
I’m still grumpy. Tomorrow will be better. But in the mean time, it is a little bit comforting to think that there might be a few other people out there who are also homesick just like me.
Now, I’m going to go to bed, pull the covers over my head and try not to poke a hole in the mattress with an adamantium claw. Good night.