Journal Entry: Sat Mar 21, 2015, 12:38 AM
So maybe it's just the hormones, but I've really been missing my beloved convention peeps this year. I even miss the LOCATION. Three of the four Botcons I've been to were in Pasadena, and I've really put roots down in that place. I miss that feeling of knowing where I was and feeling at home even in California. I miss going to Hollywood, silly as that sounds, and going to the beach. I miss that strange LA feeling. I was listening to a mystery set there, and all the time I was listening, I kept going, "Figueroa Ave.! I know where that is! We always used to laugh and pretend it was named after DonFig!"
Today while I was working (cleaning houses: much vacuuming; many toilets) I got so sad about not getting to hang with James Roberts and go off to him about the bits in MTMTE I liked and/or disliked that my stomach clenched up. I miss JP Bove, who hasn't been coming over stateside lately. He's So Darn Funny, and endlessly fun/interesting to talk with. I wish Nick Roche would come back over to Botcon -- that man is a KICK IN THE HEAD (in the best possible sense). I wish I could have more time to hang with the UK Underbase podcast crew -- they seem like such fun guys. (Basically, I want Chris McFeely to read all of Tailgate's lines ever, because although his Megs voice is spectacular, his TG voice is GLEE AND WINNING.) I want to sit down with John Barber and really talk about his experience writing Punishment -- he said it was hard to go into such a dark place with characters, and I just want to say, "Man, I get you on that one, Bro." And, you know, TALK WRITING. I want to basically kidnap Mairghread Scott and Jason Enright and keep them forever, because they give me hope for humanity, are awesome, and Mairghread's an ACTUAL GIRL writer. I want Joana Lafuente, who is epic, smart, and kind, to come back over to Botcon so we can all tell her just exactly how she has stepped up to Josh-the-Art-God's legacy and PWNED IT OUT OF THE PARK. Ditto Sarah Stone, who is on a whole other planet of skill and pwnage. I want to get up the guts to ask the man I will forever think of as Teyowisonte about his strong feelings about native peoples -- I want to know more. I always miss Matt Frank's squinky-eyed grin. I want to give Casey Coller one of his pages that I've colored, just to say thank you for all the support and encouragement he's given me. I want to give Alex Milne a print of the Megatron piece he critiqued for me and that I thereafter made So Much Better when I followed his advice. (I'd love to stop being so scared of him.) I want to have serious conversations with the artists I critique each month in my reviews. I want critiques of my reviews, and to find out how I could do them better. I want to understand more. I want to spend days imbibing in so much art and art-god-presence that it's exhausting.
I want to feel like I matter to the people I revere so much.
Because that's what happens at Botcon. It is absolutely like a drug.
I've never been able to express myself in 144 characters; and I'm never sure if people will actually read/understand me if I try to post there. Twitter makes me feel like a dork-fish. And although I think I've somehow got James's email, and believe I could compose a decent email containing the things I'd love to tell him lately, it would not be a DISCUSSION. It would not have hand-gestures and facial expressions. It would not have vocal intonations or impressions. It might not even get read or much less replied to. And it would be a huge impertinence to email him. So I'm stuck.
At least John Barber retweets my reviews. I don't know if he reads them, but he is aware. I've got a little bit of communication there. And poor Josh and Andrew have dealt with my sometimes going after them for their artistic choices... always in a gentlemanly matter.
Oh my gosh, I'm SUCH A WHINER!!
There are so darn many amazing people in this fandom who I love. I think my blessing and my curse is that I go to conventions For The Artists. I'm an addict. I don't go to cosplay or to buy toys or even to learn about upcoming events, although that's cool. I go because that's where all the Art Gods are. And that's the one place where, by Primus, I sometimes MATTER to them. When I'm at a convention, I COME ALIVE in ways that I don't anywhere else. Every moment MATTERS. Every encounter MATTERS. I am vividly aware, brightly alert, and dangitall, I get to give my love to these people IN PERSON. It's multiple years' worth of conversation and interaction all squeezed in to a few minutes at a busy table. It is never, ever near enough. BUT IT IS SOMETHING! And I absolutely TREASURE IT. "Real life," although I go through it with the vim and zest and zaniness you see from me wherever I am, it seldom keyes me up to quite that pitch of excitement. It's, you know, REGULAR LIFE. There are no Art Gods in it. (Though I am starting to be brave and talk writing sometimes with a local "real" author. And as always, there's the absolutely vital Art Night gathering.) Conventions are the life of my imagination turned up to 11.
I've learned recently that this year is the last Auto Assembly. Now, I know that going over to the UK on my noexistent budget is laughable, and I shouldn't bother about it. I get to go to Botcon. It's amazing. But (and this is important) All My Favorite 'Cross-The-Pond Peeps Will Be There! And dangitall, AA is BUILT around hanging out with the Art Gods and conversing and being silly! I would LOVE THAT SO HARD I CAN'T EVEN. I had always kind of told myself that one day, I would go. But it's absurdly expensive. And I've never gone to a convention alone before; I rely on Chromia and the rest of the glorious posse to make things like this happen. So I wimp out of even trying. Even taking a chunk out of the budget for Botcon is a big deal, and I'm grateful to Art Night pal "Grapple," and to hubby "Ironhide," who both always look at me cross-eyed when I wonder of maybe I ought to skip out on a convention and instead pay for things like car maintenance. "You'd go insane if you stayed at home," they both remind me. And they're right.
I guess my point is that I'm whinging like a spoiled two-year-old because I can't hang out with Art Gods every other day, and because I can't go to both Botcon and AA.
And if by some chance I do pull it off, I'm going to AA.
But boy howdy, did I need to vent!
PS -- this is NOT an "I need money!" post. This is me trying to remind myself to appreciate what I HAVE. And, you know, getting all my thoughts out into pixelated letters. Spewing.
Thanks for listening.