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.

Knights Who Say Knee

Last week, I was forced to make an appointment with a doctor about an ongoing issue.

"Cry baby says 'what?'"

I have nothing personal against doctors, mind you. Rather, my issue is with the American Healthcare System. It doesn't take a genius to see that the system as a whole is nothing more than a bloated, Godzilla-sized tick, feverishly sucking away at the life blood of its customers, hiking prices up by 1000% or more, just because they can get away with it. All in the name of profit. And that would be fine and dandy, if we were Ferengi.

Rule of Acquisition #10- Greed is eternal.

Since the middle of October, I've been experiencing pain in my left knee. It didn't really restrict my mobility or inhibit my day to day life; I could still walk, ride my bike, run, and drop kick puppies with the best of them; it was a minor irritation, not unlike cleaning a litter box after both cats decide to make back to back trips.

Thus, I've done my best to avoid doctors, hospitals, and medications of all kinds for as long as humanly possible. Because I don't feel like having my bank account ass-raped with a sandpaper condom anymore than it already is-- I'm looking at you, student loans. So I did what any reasonable person living in a country where Making Money is more important than Healing the Sick would do.

Rule of Acquisition #23- Nothing is more important than your health...except for your money

I pretended the problem didn't exist. You know, like the way Florida pretends Climate Change and Rising Sea Levels don't exist.*

I'm sure you can guess how well that strategy worked out.

Beginning in January, the pain began to worsen; rather than being something that I could ignore, it decided to spit on our truce by growing progressively more whiny. A few random twinges here and there turned into an achy soreness that would persist for days before finally quieting down. I first became aware of this new stage in our relationship when I was at the gym. It was leg day, and so my knee felt that was the perfect opportunity to explain to me, at great length, why it wasn't a good idea to be doing what I was doing.

I patiently listened to it's argument, and offered a proposal: I would take a month off from leg days, and in exchange, it would stop screaming bloody murder at me every time I squatted.

And so much to my disgust, I skipped leg day for a whole month.

But once again, Left Knee reneged on our deal; he started doing his impression of an 8 year old girl who insists she isn't tired and refuses to go to bed-- there was screaming and tantrums for hours on end.

Realizing that things would probably only get worse, I hung my head in defeat and scheduled an appointment with a doctor. I can hear the insurance companies cackling evilly even now.

Rule of Acquisition #1- Once you have their money, you never give it back.

After a close examination of my knee, followed by a detailed description of my symptoms-- I was assiduously taking notes each time Left Knee misbehaved and threw a tantrum-- he stated what the issue was.

Patella Tracking Disorder

Basically, my patella (the kneecap) shifts out of place when I bend my leg. My mind immediately supplied me with all sorts of gruesome and painful outcomes of having such a disorder. Imagine the hell scenes from Event Horizon, all centered around my left leg.

"Do you see?!"

My doctor kindly dispelled those thoughts, though. The disorder, in my case, was caused by some muscle imbalances; I have old man hips. Like, really old man hips. Even as a child, I recall being extremely uncomfortable sitting cross-legged on the ground, due to having the hip strength of a ninety year old woman.

As if that wasn't bad enough, I also have a few other muscle issues contributing to my nagging knee:

1. My core is kind of not in shape.

2. My glutes are constantly tensed up when I stand upright, doing everything in their power to keep me from falling over.

3. My IT band, the muscle that runs from the hip all the way down to the ankle, is also ridiculously tight. That's what is shoving my patella out of alignment.

4. Due to all the biking I've been doing, my quads are strong-- too strong. They are overpowering my hamstrings, which are weak and girly little things.

So all this is bad.

However, I'm happy to say that the issue can be taken care of with lots of stretching and some exercises focused around my core. My doctor recommended me to a physical therapist, who in turn is working with me to fix the issue so that not only will I correct my knee problem, but I might also gain some much needed mobility.

Maybe one day I'll be able to sit cross-legged without weeping. Who knows?


* In case you weren't aware, Florida officials have banned the use of 'climate change,' 'global warming,' and 'rising sea level' in any government emails, communications, and reports. You can read about it here: http://www.miamiherald.com/news/state/florida/article12983720.html