And now, my latest and probably final attempt to paste in an excerpt from another chapter of long-defunct prose experiment I Am Empowered, a Year-One-ish first-person account from Emp in 140-character Twitter format detailing her earliest days as a superheroine. This episode concludes after our heroine outwitted her latest supercaptors, “The Cash Money Clique,” and is now opining re: her thematically relevant financial woes.

STRAIGHT CASH, SUPERHOMEY (PART 5)

Now, my Bachelor’s Degree in Suprahuman Studies really ’n’ truly has gifted me with invaluable awareness and understanding of cape culture.

And unlike many—or most—academic endeavors, my hard-won superhero-sociology savvy often translates into practical, real-world applications.

Sometimes, though, I frownily grimthink that I might have made just as good—or bad—a superhero without the benefit of a college degree.

I wouldn’t have garnered all the keen cape insights of a Suprahuman Studies education, but I also wouldn’t have garnered $55,000 in debt.

I could never be criminal-ish enough—or ballsy enough—to, um, "requisition" an amount of money that would make a real dent in my debtload.

I could, howeva, easily snag a Benjamin or two, just so I could briefly paper over the yawning abyss of Failing At Being A Grown-Up.

I’m no fashionista, but owning an article of clothing only a year or two out of style—as opposed to 4 or 5—would be a nice change of pace.

Despite being an (ahem) Adult Woman, I’m still shamefully limping along with a crappy, piecemeal wardrobe that mainly dates back to college.

And my college years were rife with failed experiments, short-lived enthusiasms and outright blunders—many of which still infest my closet.

(Yes, it pains me to admit, one or two “flirty” tops that Cassidy foisted off on Browbeaten Freshman Me still lurk in the closet’s depths.)

Haunting thrift stores with little cash but boundless hope, as a Dewy-Eyed, Fashion-Experimenting Sophomore in College Never-Neverland? Fun.

Haunting thrift stores with just as little cash and less hope, as a Grown-Ass, Post-Grad, Mature Ladyperson out in The Real World? Less fun.

Nowadays, I walk by store fronts with my gaze downturned, as if I’m averting my eyes during a horror movie. DON'T LOOK DON'T LOOK DON’T LOOK

I try to be good, to be frugal, to thriftily stick to a prudent budget. Going out: OUT. Eating out: OUT. Any kind of fiscal acting-out: OUT.

I do my best to be all penny-pinching and spartan—though, side note, no one’s likely to mistake my pudgy belly for a Spartan’s sculpted abs.

As you might well guess from my ballooning credit-card balance, howevs, I all too frequently stray from the budgetary straight and narrow.

Just like I struggle to eat healthy and responsibly and supersuit-conscious, then OOPS, slip up and ravenously tube-binge on cookie dough—

—I pull the same idiot stunts with money, lurching from weeks of sober self-denial into sudden, gleefully uncontrolled credit-card binges.

Petulant IDGAF(I-Don’t-Give-A-Fuck)ism overwhelms me, and I unthinkingly splurge on purchases that’ll make me feel better for a few minutes.

At my very lowest ebbs, I peevishly use my own status as a superhero to justify each selfish, shortsighted lapse into irresponsibility.

I whine sulkily to myself, “I save lives EVERY DAY! Okay, every day-ISH! Surely I deserve a new pair of ballet flats now and then, don’t I?”

Close-up on my poutiest pouty face. “I risk my life, like, all the time! I’ve EARNED this!” Cue the heinous montage of credit-card swipes.

Yeahp, it’s amazing just how many material indulgences an unselfish, totally greed-free, monk-like Hero Martyr like myself seems to require.

Awesomely Selfless Heroine deserves a little—or a Venti, or a Trenta—Starbucks every now and then, doesn’t she? Of course she does! (SWIPE!)

Darn it, cooking is SO hard for an exhausted hero like me. Isn’t Brave Li’l Emp entitled to some Thai takeout every now and then? (SWIPE!)

After a bad day on the job, can’t a broody badass cheer herself up just a bit with the comfort media of a not-THAT-expensive DVD? (SWIPE!)

PURPLE PALADIN 5: INFERNO IN SAN ANTONIO isn’t just a $60 videogame, it’s a sandbox—a “capebox”—for practicing new combat tactics! (SWIPE!)

An action-ish heroine—whose work obliges her to be in decent shape—surely merits a membership at a non-skeevy gym, doesn’t she? (SWIPE!)

A plucky but insecure workout warrior deserves some up-to-date, embarrassment-free gymwear for her new membership, doesn’t she? (SWIPE!)

And so it goes ad nauseum, Spendthrift Grasshopper Me wrestling Prudent, Budget-Minded Ant Me in a never-ending battle for Visa® access.

Over and over again, I fleetingly assuage my gnawing financial anxiety and oppressive sense of failure with one small indulgence at a time—

—each of which happies me up only briefly before sinking me incrementally deeper in debt and leaving me to loathe my own irresponsibility.

Even my focus on credit-card debt is a luxury of sorts, as that’s infinitely preferable to thinking about my horrific student-loan debtload.

Bad as they might be, my card balances could—in theory, at least—be whittled down by positive developments in my dismal employment status.

The looming, monstrous redwood of my Double Nickels student debt seems entirely whittle-proof by anything short of a winning lottery ticket.

So, yay, you get the picture: Struggling Ladycape Is Struggling, Atlas-like, under the fiscal and psychological weight of crushing debt.

Now, back to the real-world picture of me in the Cash Money Clique’s HQ, struggling with the intensifying urge to grab me a li’l Hero Bonus.

I’m ambling in anxious circles across the bill-blanketed floor, kicking up Jacksons and Grants and Franklins as I fretfully pace to and fro.

I glance over at the sprawled forms of the Clique, but none of them are yet awake to guilt me out of a lapse into super-sticky-fingeredness.

As the money’s presence inflates my level of self-indulgent greed, my level of self-loathing over my own weakness increases proportionately.

Not only would no Real Superheroine ever help herself to stolen loot, no Real Superheroine would waste any time agonizing over the decision.

With startling vividness, I imagine my struggle being witnessed by Sistah Spooky, arms crossed, nodding with a “just like I thought” smirk.

Behind her, Spooky’s lady henchcapes are obediently nodding in unison, nervous beta females rushing to mirror their alpha’s every move.

Yummy Mummy is shrugging as she nods, an evocative gesture that tells me, “Way to give Spooky another opportunity to hate on you, dumbass.”

More painfully, I visualize Capitan Rivet shaking his steely head, his expressionless faceplate somehow still conveying regret and dismay.

Then I visualize Daddy standing next to him, so my father figure and actual father are woefully shaking their heads in metronomic stereo.

<INCOMPLETE SECTION>

A Benjamin-slick of bills underfoot suddenly gives way and slides out from beneath me, sends me tumbling in a swirl of churned-up cash.

I doofily pratfall.

<INCOMPLETE SECTION>

Who needs mere riches, when I’m gifted with the rich satisfaction inherent to the sight of a defeated bad guy glaring helplessly up at me?

Then I hear the dopplering drone of the Homeycar approaching, and a warm rush of relief washes over me. Too late for greedy grabbiness, now!

What I fail to notice until I trudge home, peel off the supersuit, and step into the shower: A lone $100 bill is stuck in my hair.

Maybe it's just my guilt-ridden imagination, but Benjamin Franklin sure seems to smirk at me in an irritatingly smug and judgmental fashion.

<END OF EXCERPT , AND OF CHAPTER>

Wellp, this final excerpt pretty much wrapped up serialization of this interesting but incomplete project, though I do have a few other short fragments kicking around, which I might consider posting here at some point. So, what did you think of I Am Empowered, folks?

Today’s Patreon update: Originally done as a means of scratching out more worktime to complete the long-gestating Empowered vol. 12, I've switched over to a Monday/ Wednesday/ Friday Patreon posting schedule that won't feature the fixed content format I previously used. However, my vast archive of years of Patreon posts—extensive Empowered previews, vintage con sketches, work stages on covers, "damsel in distress" commissions, life drawings & much, much more—remains available for Patrons' perusal.

-Adam Warren