Off to the Emerald City (Comic Con)

           

  ECCC (Emerald City Comic Con) is one of those events that has managed to slip under my radar for the past few years; despite it being a pretty large nerd event, and very relevant to my interests, I never seem to muster up the energy to attend. My reasons (excuses) are the usual diatribe; I've got bills to pay and am too broke to have some fun, my work schedule sucks and I can't take time off, etc.

So imagine my surprise when I found myself actually attending this year. A friend of mine had graciously offered the use of his three day pass last week, since by then they had all been sold out. I had been in a pretty awful funk that week (more on that later) and he had reached out to me. The usual excuses began to form in my mind, but I managed to smack those down.

For those not in the know-- or who aren't paying attention to the title-- ECCC is all about comics, graphic novels, and artwork in general. It also features cosplayers great and small. Cosplay being one of my favorite aspects of any convention, I was looking forward to doing some wandering around and people watching.That would have been good enough for me, but than one of the friends I was with casually said, "You know Ivy Doomkitty has a panel at ECCC, right?"

I froze, and managed to keep the squee of utter excitement internalized.

"Oh yeah," I said, attempting to sound casual. I failed.

"Yup," he said. "You gonna go?"

His question brought up a myriad of emotions; eager excitement warred with embarrassed fear and stoic grumpiness. Of course I wanted to meet her; she's one of my favorite cosplayers and a stone cold fox to boot. But at the same time, I didn't want to; I don't like meeting famous people I admire, for two reasons.

1. As I mentioned in a previous post, I have jealousy issues when it comes to famous people I idolize.

2. I was afraid that if I did go and meet her, I would dissolve into a freaking puddle of goo and start babbling inanely. I don't like the notion of becoming another hyperactive fanboy who ends up making a fool of himself just because he meets someone he admires. I didn't want to be that guy.

I said as much to him and his wife, my other friend.

"Pussy," he said, chuckling.

And so I found myself, after some aimless wandering and sightseeing, standing in line at Ivy Doomkitty's panel. She was dressed in her Star Trek Red Shirt cosplay, the first costume she had constructed. Naturally, she was gorgeous. When at last my turn came, she greeted me and, to my amazement, I didn't start drooling. I managed to say, without any gushing, how much I respected her work and how thrilled I was to meet her. We chatted for an all too brief moment, and then before I realized I was saying it, I mentioned how nervous I was talking to her and how I was afraid I'd start babbling and making a fool of myself. She blinked in surprise.

"Really," she asked incredulously. "You don't seem to be nervous at all."

Thank you, years of acting experience.

We took a couple of pictures together, and I made to excuse myself. Because I was holding up the line, and definitely not because I was jittery with excited nerves. "Now if you'll excuse me," I said, keeping my tone light and fighting to keep the goofy smirk off of my face-- something I was only half successful at-- "I need to go away, over there somewhere, to faint."

She laughed and then pouted prettily at me; I stayed upright, because it isn't manly to swoon. Still pouting, she said to me, "Awww, that won't do. Would you like a hug?"

"Yes please."

And she hugged me.

'I can die now,' I thought to myself.

Being careful to keep the squeak out of my voice, I gave her my sincere thanks and walked away from her booth. Only then did I let the biggest, silliest grin I've ever grinned escape. I'm almost certain I was hovering a few feet off the ground like a cartoon character.

The rest of ECCC was neat, but couldn't compare to that.

On the car ride home, we-- my two friends and their seven year old daughter-- were chatting it up. Exhausted yet elated, we spoke of what panels we'd attended, what swag we picked up, and the like. When the subject of Ivy Doomkitty came up, my friend 'A' mentioned her daughters reaction to meeting her.

"Look mom, she's so pretty," her daughter had said to her. 'A' had nodded in agreement.

"Take a close look at her," 'A' had then said to her daughter. "All of this, her cosplay and panel, all of it is her own doing. She's in charge of all of it."

And suddenly, something clicked in my head.

I had an epiphany at that moment, and realized why I'd been so gloomy of late, and why I had this silly jealousy thing going with people that I look up to and idolize. It wasn't their success that I envied, nor the fame or money.

It was the fact that all of them were in charge. They weren't beholden to anyone. They had achieved a level of success that allowed them to live their lives free of the burden of answering to someone else about their work.

That, more than anything else, is what I want. And that is exactly what I do not possess at this point in time. Right now, I am living the opposite of that. I have no control in virtually every aspect of my life.

I'm stuck working my job not because I enjoy it, but because I have to. It pays more than any other job that would hire someone like me, who has no marketable skills or education or experience. Because of my debt, I cannot afford to move on and make less money; I'm barely making ends meet at the moment, which then affects my ability to live where I want; even getting a vehicle is limited by that one factor.

It all came crashing into place in that one moment. Much like Dorothy in the Wizard of Oz, my visit to the Emerald City had provided its own revelation.

I was silent the rest of the way home, my thoughts a jumble, my mood bouncing all over the spectrum, from depression to anger to hope to grim determination. I resolved then and there to do...something.

And that's where I'm currently at. I don't know what to do or how to change my situation; what I do know is I can't continue  living as I have been, with no control over my own life.