That Time I Met Clark Kent and Lex Luthor From Smallville

Last summer I wrote a long, emotional post about how excited I was to finally have had the chance to see Lifehouse in concert.

I talked about their music being the perfect soundtrack to my favorite show of all time, Smallville. I even wore a Smallville shirt to the concert, because I will always associate certain Lifehouse songs with the show.

Well. On September 1st, 2018, I wore that shirt again. This time? To Dragon Con, where I FREAKING MET THE STARS OF SMALLVILLE, TOM WELLING AND MICHAEL ROSENBAUM! (And Aaron Ashmore too!)

Why yes, I did put this photo on the back of my Christmas card with the caption
HOPE YOUR HOLIDAYS ARE SUPER. Why do you ask?

I honestly still can't believe this happened. It all started when a fellow Tom-fan sent me the link to an Instagram post announcing that Tom and Michael would be appearing at Dragon Con in September.

Here is actual footage of my reaction:

After all, Dragon Con takes place in Atlanta, and I live in the suburbs of Atlanta. There was no way in hell I was going to let this opportunity pass me by. 

My husband, on the other hand, even though he was a Smallville fan before I was, did not get as excited. He agreed to go only because he was worried about me making the trip alone. So I wasted no time buying our tickets. Or getting my son a Superman T-shirt to match his dad's.

Waiting for the MARTA. We were melting.

And can I just tell you what an absolutely amazing experience it was?

Sure, the MARTA (Metropolitan Atlanta Rapid Transit Authority) was late and crowded and hot, but how often do you get to ride a train with people dressed in costumes, everything from Deadpool to Disney characters? 

Yes, it was hot as hell outside, and the hair I'd spent an hour straightening the night before was frizzy and sticking to my sweaty neck by the time we stepped off the train, and my son managed to drip a melting chocolate popsicle all over his khaki-colored shorts before we even arrived at the con. We also missed the parade.

Didn't matter. We had. The best. Time.

We started off on the Kids' Track, at a Jedi Training for my son. He got to make his own light saber out of a foam noodle. Then he got to learn how to use it from the Star Wars character of his choice -  he chose Rey. 

From there we made our way over to the line for the Smallville: Reunion of Lost Choices panel. Don't ask me what the name of the panel meant; I don't have a clue. I just knew I was about to be in the same room with two actors I've admired for more than a decade. 

Except upon entering the ballroom where the panel was held, an attendant looked at my little family, glanced around the room, and said, "There's three seats open right there." AND POINTED AT THE VERY FRONT ROW. 

I almost fell the freak over. There was literally nothing but a few feet of carpet between me and the table where the actors from Smallville would be sitting. You guys, I could not. 

The introductions started. Erica Cerra and Aaron Ashmore were brought out first. Then the moderator started Michael's introduction. And what happened?

https://t.co/6d55SmvESW

— Gina Ciocca (@gmc511) November 12, 2018

OUT COMES TOM! He totally crashed Michael's intro, and I was thoroughly unprepared for the shock, as you can tell from my delighted shriek.


Not to be outdone, Michael then made his entrance shirtless.

https://t.co/CU4Uc5n3lG

— Gina Ciocca (@gmc511) November 12, 2018

What followed was an hour of hilarity and adorableness. Like Michael sharing this story about one of the most memorable pranks played on set:

https://t.co/EDLbwfOpaH

— Gina Ciocca (@gmc511) November 13, 2018

And Tom, relaying this embarrassing moment:

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by Gina Ciocca (@gmciocca) on Sep 4, 2018 at 11:15am PDT

https://t.co/xSfBb7nYfY

— Gina Ciocca (@gmc511) November 13, 2018 

Michael also talked about hating having to shave his head each day for his role as Lex. He said sometimes he'd get cut, he had to wear special makeup so the set lights wouldn't reflect off his head, and he was also self-conscious about his big occipital bone.

He ran out into the audience trying to find someone who had a big bone at the back of their heads like his - and ended up finding it on my big-headed little boy.

My kid has no filter. I may have panicked a little
in this moment.

He also put the microphone in front of my son long enough for him to ask, "Are you Lex Luthor?" Michael laughed, and turning to Tom, said, "He called me Lex Luthor."

But my favorite moment was one in which Tom unwittingly paraphrased a scene from my book BUSTED.

I may have mentioned one or a thousand times that each of my published novels contain at least one Superman reference each.

Well, in BUSTED, there is a scene in which TJ explains to Marisa why purple is known as "the imperial color." (BTW, some of these images are taken from my Instagram stories, which can be seen under the highlight "DragonCon 2018" on my Instagram page.)

At one point in the panel, Tom Welling talked about how easy it was to dress for the part of Clark Kent - he either wore a red shirt and a blue jacket, or a blue shirt and a red jacket. To which Michael responded, "Why was I always in suits? And why did I wear so much purple?"

So you can imagine the free fall of my jaw when Tom turns to Michael and proceeds to TJ-splain the reason that purple shirts might be symbolic on a rich, powerful man like Lex Luthor.

Not only had a character in my book said THE SAME THING....

.... but he said it after the Lois Lane reference I'd slipped in 88 pages earlier....

... and he's the same character who has a loft in his barn, complete with a telescope, that is 100% a love note to Clark's loft in Smallville.

So, my book containing Superman and Smallville references was referenced by my favorite Superman from Smallville. And that is how a panel at Dragon Con 2018 turned into my Inception moment. 

(Okay, maybe it's a stretch. Just let me have my moment.)

Following the panel, we walked around for a bit, then got in line for the photo op I'd paid for ahead of time.

Remember how I said my husband wasn't all that excited to go to Dragon Con?

Well. When it was our turn to get in the photo booth with Michael, Tom, and Aaron, he said, "Here babe, this is your good side." And literally shoved me out of the way so he could stand next to Tom. I swear to God, I almost kicked him.

The one chance I'd probably ever have to stand next to Tom Welling, and his giant hand is on MY HUSBAND'S shoulder.

Though if you look closely, you'll notice that my own hand is creepily resting on top of Michael's, which I swear I did not realize until my mother saw the photo and pointed it out afterward. I was actually trying my hardest NOT to touch anyone, in fear of being creepy, and thought my son's shoulder was my best bet for hand placement. Oops.

Of course, my precautions went out the window when we were about to exit the booth, and I realized I hadn't gotten to say anything meaningful to Tom. As I said in my Instagram caption of our picture:

I wish I had time to tell them how much Smallville meant to me. That I write novels because I hope to make other people feel the way their show made *me* feel. That I've slipped a Superman reference into all 3 of my published novels. That I wore this same shirt to a Lifehouse concert, thinking it was the closest I'd ever get to anything Smallville-related.

I didn't get to say any of that. But as we started to leave, I turned back. I offered Tom my hand, and he obliged me a hand shake, despite the "no touching" rule. I looked him in the eye and told him thank you. And even though he had no idea just how many different things I was actually thanking him for, I am content that those words said it all.

In short?

Best. Day. Ever. 

(And my husband wants to go back again next year.)

The Long Road to Sunday Night

I did something on Sunday that was six years in the making. I finally saw Lifehouse in concert, and it was freaking amazing.

I know going to a concert isn't a big deal to most people. But when you love a band as much as I love Lifehouse, and when you've been trying to see said band in concert for six years, have TWICE had tickets to shows that were ultimately cancelled, and have been a fan for more than 15 years... well, it *is* a big deal.

I remember hearing Hanging by a Moment for the first time in college, and loving it. I loved Jason Wade's gravelly voice. I loved the unique sound of their music. But I think what really made me fall into no-turning-back love with Lifehouse, to the surprise of absolutely no one who knows anything about me, is my association of their music with some of my favorite heart-melting moments on Smallville.

Like this one, which started a years-long obsession with the song Everything:

Or this one, where Lifehouse actually appeared ON THE SHOW and I still cry watching Lana put her head on Clark's chest and the look of complete happiness on Clark's face because he is just so in love with her and SHUT UP I DON'T KNOW WHY IT AFFECTS ME LIKE THIS BUT IT DOES OKAY?

So, back in 2011, when I was living in Connecticut, Lifehouse was scheduled to play an outdoor concert at Old Mine Park, and I was ECSTATIC to score tickets.

But then That Bitch Irene came alone, damaged the venue, and the concert was canceled.

Fast forward through another couple of missed opportunities to 2015. I'm now living in Georgia, and my husband buys tickets to Lifehouse and Nickelback at the Verizon Amphitheater for my birthday. Except two months later, the show is cancelled on account of Chad Kroeger needing vocal surgery.

I was seriously starting to think the universe had it out for me, and it was never going to happen.

But then, 2 years later, on April 21st, 2017, I was scrolling through my Twitter feed, and saw this:

Tickets for our show with @switchfoot at @AtlBotanical on August 20 are now on sale!https://t.co/b4Lw03A3X6 pic.twitter.com/7DApFizxxb

— Lifehouse (@lifehouse) April 21, 2017

My immediate reaction was HOLY SHIT LIFEHOUSE IS COMING TO ATLANTA AGAIN AND I LIVE NEAR ATLANTA AND IT'S A SIGN AND OMG THIS NEEDS TO HAPPEN OR I WILL DIE.

Or, you know, something along those lines. At any rate, I texted a screenshot of the tweet to my husband and I'm pretty sure I included a not-so-subtle reminder that my birthday was less than a month away, and an even less subtle hint that these tickets were the ONLY gift I wanted.

He got the hint, guys. My husband surprised me with the tickets for my birthday, and even took care of securing a babysitter for the night. I was beyond psyched.

I was also a nervous wreck. After all, I had a history of getting thisclose to seeing Lifehouse concerts, only to have the universe pull one of these:

I was terrified that my son would get sick, that the show would be cancelled again, that *I* would get sick... I angstily turned over hundreds of imaginary scenarios in my mind.

But then the day came. The weather was beautiful. My son, my husband, and I were all healthy. The babysitter showed up. I left the house with a huge smile on my face.

I was also wearing the Smallville shirt I'd bought specifically for the occasion.

And even though the smile didn't leave my face the entire night, there were two moments in particular when I thought I might just implode and drift off into the air as a euphoric wisp of Gina-shaped smoke.

The first was when Switchfoot's (who took the stage first) front man, Jon Foreman (which, BTW, you freaking rocked, Jon, and you have a brand-new die-hard fan in me) started to play Dare You to Move. I was already psyched, because I love this song. But then.

But then.

This happened:



JASON WADE JUST UP AND PERFORMED THE SHIT OUT OF THAT SONG.

That voice! Just listen to that voice! How I didn't melt faster than a Popsicle in the sun is nothing short of a miracle. Maybe it's because I was too busy screaming my head off, which you can hear in the video.

I've watched it about a hundred times since.

So, you get the point that I was happy. But my husband started to get restless. Lifehouse didn't take the stage until 9:45, and he had told the babysitter we'd be home by 10:30. She, and he, both had to be at work the next morning. Not only that, we had a 30-minute drive back to our house, and the babysitter had a 30-minute drive home from our house. After only a few songs, he told me we needed to leave.

"I'm not leaving," I said. "Not until I hear Everything."

Of course, I had no idea if they'd actually play it. But I'd waited way too long to be at that concert, and I was not about to go out like that. So I stayed right where I was, and watched Lifehouse perform Halfway Gone.



When the song was over, my husband looked at me and said, "Babe, we REALLY need to go." So I begrudgingly gathered our stuff and started to weave through the crowd.

And just as we reached the sidewalk surrounding the lawn where we'd been seated, Jason Wade asked, "So do you guys want to hear some older Lifehouse?"

I froze in place. He started to play Broken. It's part of my "soundtrack" for Last Year's Mistake, and it's one of my favorites.



My husband dutifully waited for the song to finish. But just as it did, the notes melted into the familiar sounds of another song. THE song.

Everything.

And then my phone ran out of storage.

I almost died. So I switched to taking a live Instagram video, thinking I'd figure out a way to save it later. (Which I did, via a bootleg recording with my husband's cell phone.) Here is the link:

https://www.facebook.com/domenick.ciocca/videos/1478876965540722/

And with that, my entire life was made, and I skipped out of the concert while singing along to Whatever It Takes. I happy-cried myself to sleep that night.

I can't even explain what it is about Lifehouse's music that makes me so happy, but that's just it - it makes me happy. When you struggle with anxiety and depression, feeling happy can be a challenge. Even in moments when you know you *should* be happy, sometimes you're just not. But on Sunday night?

I felt happier than I have in a very long time.

It might sound dramatic, but hearing those songs that I've loved for so long, it was like a little piece of my soul had found its way home.

 It was a beautiful night that's become a beautiful memory, and I will cherish it forever.

Have you ever felt this way about something? Feel free to share!

Clark Kent vs. Superman

I was at a doctor's appointment Wednesday morning when I spotted an issue of Entertainment Weekly on their magazine rack.  The cover showed off the newest Superman, someone I hadn't really heard of before: Henry Cavill. 

I thought to myself, that's the new Superman?  He's not even that cute.

Um... and THEN I got up off my butt.  And when I got up close, I almost turned into a big puddle of Gina right on that hideous, regulation doctor's office carpet.  Behold, the newest Superman:

I've made no secret of my weakness for light-eyed, dark-haired handsomeness, but this guy... HOLY SWOOOON!

And it only got better with the photo spread inside, because as perfectly as he pulls off the brooding, I'm-too-sexy-for-my-smile pose, guess what - he's ten times as cute when he smiles.  I couldn't find a picture I liked to prove it, but take my word for it.

Is it pathetic that I'm giggling like a teenager with a crush as I write this post?  Totally.

But this isn't even the first time I've gone gaga for someone who's donned the red cape.  I've mentioned several times that I have a long-standing crush on Tom Welling, who's been making me drool as Clark Kent on Smallville for the past eight years.  Well, five years.  I ranted at length in this post about the decline of Smallville after season five (the theme song still rocks, though.  See video below).

So what is it about this superdude that makes me crazy?  'Cause I gotta tell you, it certainly ain't the blue spandex suit.  Worst. Superhero costume.  Ever. 

As it turns out, I'm not like Lois Lane, who is only in love with the Superman persona.  Nope.  After thinking long and hard about it, I am officially all about Clark Kent.

It makes perfect sense.   He's a journalist.  He likes writing.  I like writing.  See where this is going? 

Maybe it's because everyone and their mother claims to have a weakness for the confident boy, the "bad boy."  But I've never been a follow-the-crowd type girl, and I think smart is sexy.  I like guys who can rock glasses.  I like guys who are shy, and maybe even a little awkward, but still able to step up when you need them.  Add to the mix a business suit with abs of steel underneath, and for me, it's the epitome of hot.

Granted, Henry's and Tom's amazing eyes, adorable smiles, perfect bone structure and killer bods aren't hurting the situation any.  Even the thickest, blackest glasses can't hide those puppies. 

But ultimately, I'm a dork, and I love me a cute, dorky member of the opposite sex.  The only problem is, I can't tear my clothes apart and reveal my suddenly sexy, super-coordinated alter ego.  It's still just dorky, accident-prone me under there.

You can bet I won't be complaining, though, when Henry and Tom whip off their glasses to reveal those baby blues, or rip their shirts opent to reveal.... blech.  The blue spandex.  On second thought, keep the business suit on.  Or even Henry's "S" t-shirt. 

That neon blue unitard has GOT to go.  

Somebody Save Me indeed!  So who sets you swooning?  Superman, Clark Kent, Tom, or Henry? : )

Knowing When to Pull the Plug

I was actually inspired to write this post after giving a rather long-winded answer to an interesting question posed on Tracy's Forever Endeavor Blog.

I've mentioned before how much I loved V.C. Andrews Flowers in the Attic, and most of the subsequent books in the series. 

Notice I said most.  The first two books were out-and-out amazing.  Suspenseful, sad, and mind-blowingly effed-up in the best possible way.  Not to mention V.C.'s unmistakable flair for hinting at different interpretations of everything going on without ever giving the reader a concrete answer (was Sylvia really mentally impaired in My Sweet Audrina?  Did Corinne really dump Cory's body in another part of the attic, despite promising to give him a proper burial?  You are a masterful genius of torture, Virginia Andrews!)

But by the time I finished the third book in the Dollanganger series, I remember thinking hmm... V.C. was a little off her game on that one.
By the fifth and final book, I was scratching my head, wondering how things had veered so off course.  The storyline had gone from Wow, that's effed up! to Wow, that's just effing stupid!  The little things that drew me in had slowly disappeared; the intricacies of the plot, the dark depth of the storytelling.

I decided to try the Casteel series next, to see if I'd fare any better.  It was the same phenomenon all over again, except this time, it was worse.  Several of the characters spoke with distinct Southern accents, which disappeared as the series progressed.  And one character was named Walter Drake, after the explorer, but went by Drake.  Well someone obviously forgot this little detail, because a couple books later he's referred to as "Drake Ormond Casteel".  Was V.C. losing her mind?

No, but unfortunately, she did pass away from breast cancer in 1986.  The only books she finished before her death were My Sweet Audrina, Flowers in the Attic, Petals on the Wind, Heaven, and Dark Angel.  The rest were penned by a ghostwriter, and in my opinion, not a very good one.  Then again, how does a detail like getting a character's name wrong slip past the editors, too?

Which leads me to my main question.  When a series is concerned, why don't people seem to know when to leave well enough alone?  If it's already a ghost of what it once was, isn't it better to just let it die?

I'm sure not everyone noticed the difference in the V.C. Andrews novels, but I did, and it bothered me.  Was it greed that led publishers to plaster her name on the covers of books that weren't worthy of it? 

Pull the plug, people.  Don't let the quality of the work suffer.

I have a feeling something similar happened with Sara Shepard's Pretty Little Liars series.  While none of the titles in the 8-book series will make it to my list of all time favorites, they were still an enjoyable read.  ** Be forewarned I will be giving away plot details next**

The whole premise of the series is the mystery surrounding the disappearance of pretty, popular Ali who dropped off the face of the earth after a fight with her four best friends.  Three years later, they each start receiving cryptic text messages signed "A" referencing things that only Ali knew.  Then Ali's body is found.  And the text messages keep coming. 

Not a mind-blowing plot, but intriguing enough to keep me reading for four books, after which it seemed the mysteries were solved and life would go back to normal.  In my opinion, I'm pretty sure this was where Sara Shepard intended for the series to end.  If it wasn't, it should have been.  Because after book four, things just got ridiculous.  Emily is banished to Amish country.  Hanna and Kate fight over perv-y Mike Montgomery.  Spencer turns out to be Ali's long-lost sister.  And worst of all, Ali turns up alive and well, despite her body having been found and buried in the first book.  She does disappear again, though I haven't read the last book to find out WTF was up with that, nor do I care to. 

That plug should have been pulled four books ago. 

My last example of a series that should have been put out of its misery is not a book, but it's dear to my heart all the same.  I'm talking, of course, about Smallville.

Siiiighhh, Smallville.  I can't tell you how many times I cried watching this show because I was so head over heels in love with everything about it.  Cried, like, hysterically.  If you've ever seen the episode where they flash back to Lex Luthor's birthday and no one came to his party, you know what I mean.  Or the episode where Clark lost his father trying to save Lana, or the episode where Lana married Lex after telling Clark she wanted to be with him... Ahem, Sorry.  I tend to gush when I talk about those first five seasons.

I just loved the angsty dynamic between Clark and Lana.  She was so darn pretty, I wanted to be her.

I lived for them to get together (Lois who?).  I loved the relationship between Clark and his parents, and I gave huge props for the fact that they always followed through on story lines.

For the first five seasons, that is.  I read in TV Guide a long time ago that the show was intended for a five-season run.  Then it became the most popular show on the CW network, and wouldn't you know it, the five season idea went out the window.  Along with it went the attention to detail I'd so admired. 

Now in it's eighth season, Smallville is virtually unrecognizable and utterly silly.  Jonathan is dead, Martha only comes around once in a blue moon, and Lex Luthor peaced out a couple seasons ago.   Tell me - how do you tell a story about Superman without Lex Luthor?  Sure Justin Hartley is one sexy piece of shirtless eye candy as Oliver, but it's just not the same without Michael Rosenbaums' darkly delicious villain.  And it irks me so badly that Clark and Lois are together.  Everyone knows that Lois Lane is supposed to be in love with the Superman persona and barely knows Clark Kent is alive.  She's certainly not supposed to be happily engaged to, and living with him, while fully aware of his dual identity.

But this is what happens when people, whomever they may be, refuse to let a series end on a high note and insist on squeezing blood from a stone. 

Of course, Tom Welling and his gorgeous lips and eyes still set my heart aflutter.  Look at him!

But that doesn't mean I wanted to see my beloved show run into the ground.  I would have rather seen it end too soon and end well than be reduced to a shadow of its former self because it was stretched too thin.

So I say again, pull the plug, people.  Quantity and quality are not one in the same. I hope if I am ever faced with the choice, I will choose quality.  Then again, I haven't had an offer to publish one book, let alone eight.

What's your opinion on the matter?