It's hard to believe I've been home for six weeks already.
Fifty days ago, my fingers clenched the dust-embedded seat of a 25-year-old Fiat as my Cairo taxi driver yelled directions to his colleague, both keeping a casual eye on the road as they sped along while conversing through open windows. A few weeks before that, I giggled at Craig for having to eat a raw artichoke heart in the front seat. A month earlier I was flashed by the Zamalek bridge, and before that battled wits with owners and real estate agents as I attempted to find a decent apartment for a short-term let. (I lost.)
And now, I am in New York, crushed below the day job. I am it--editorial and production rolled into one. Editor-in-Chief, USA, in charge of me and my alter-ego, who scans, sets up files for color, then shows them to me the busy editor to ask if they are okay.
Most readers probably have some vague idea that I make comic books. I'm an editor. I used to be a colorist. Before that, an editor. Before that, a colorist. Sometimes I'd do both, the day job and the freelance job. That led to me having zero social life, which in turn led to me realizing I didn't care so much about many of the trappings of modern life. At some point, I realized that you can have a day job and one other thing. Will that other thing be a sport? A family? A social life? A condo renovator? Or a career as a book writer?
At the moment, I'm a comic book editor and interior designer/unpacker.
But what, you may wonder, am I doing all day? What comic books are worth moving to Cairo and Kuwait for?
Wonder no more. You can learn all about it here on this YouTube trailer for a documentary about my boss.