Having attended my first comic convention this past summer (see Joining a New Con-munity), I now keep my eyes open for other nerdy venues I hadn’t previously had the courage to attend.
My travel budget and time off work rarely agree with most of the events that excite me now, however. So, I spend time looking up events, saying out loud to myself, “That would be so awesome,” and then again out loud to myself, “Awww,” (in the just got told you can’t do something way, not the just saw a cute baby way) as I look at my calendar and see there is no way I’d be able to get the time off work.
In a sense, ignorance (or cowardice to attend on my part) was bliss. When I didn’t think I belonged at such conventions, I didn’t get my hopes up. They came and went without me ever thinking twice about them if I had even been aware of them in the first place.
Now, it seems, I seek out disappointment. I manage to find out that a cool convention is taking place and then, during the time when said convention is occurring, I sulk around, wishing I was there, like a child who was denied a chance to go on a trip with his friends. Knowing that they are somewhere having fun while you aren’t renders you completely incapable of generating anything fun on your own. Your mind convinces you that your best shot at being allowed to go is to just sit around all day with your head resting on your hand, sighing a lot, letting everyone known how bored you are.
When I was a kid, at least I could act out and be rude to my parents during times like these. Not the most productive outlet for my frustration, but an outlet nonetheless. In my current situation, I don’t have a tangible entity to be upset with for preventing me from going. I’m certainly not going to be angry with myself (because I’m awesome), so my anger lies with societal norms. In order to function daily, I need to help provide this stuff called money, which allows me to acquire food and clothing and secure and maintain shelter for my family to live within. The only way to get money is to have something called a job, which, as far as I’ve been able to determine, is a form of torture that sucks the life from you (much like that device from The Princess Bride) and makes you less interested in the things you used to take seriously and more interested in things like the stock market, current interest rates and politics, but for some reason produces money. We really need to revamp this system. It’s terribly outdated.
In July, I missed the famous San Diego ComicCon. It’s a convention I swear someday to attend, but this year the stars had not aligned. There is hope for the future, though, seeing as San Diego is a place we’ve wanted to visit independent of it’s hosting of ComicCon. Also, my sons are not in school during the summer. An extra day or two off work and it becomes a real possibility. The remaining issue becomes the distance.
Similarly, I already know I will not attend BrickCon 2010, the annual Lego convention and exhibition in Seattle, which begins a week from tomorrow (September 30th through October 3rd). My kids are in school, I’m not off work and, again, it’s very far away.
I’d prefer to drive to these conventions (hell, I prefer to drive everywhere, planes are not my bag) but the powers that schedule conventions of this nature seem to have a penchant for booking them in areas that are decidedly not in the Midwest region of the country. It’s called the Midwest because it’s in the middle, people! Whatever happened to fairness?
Alas, perhaps I will be able to work something out one day. Otherwise, if all the factors necessary don’t fall into line, I fear I may try to force it one day.
“Honey, we’re out of coffee, I’m just going to run out and get some…(mumbled: in Seattle). Be back in a few days!”
“In a few what?!”
(Door slams)
(Tires squeal)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment