Pros and Cons

Well, as you may know by reading Capa's posts, he and I went to Con-Version 22 this weekend. It was his first and my first in fifteen years convention, and we had a pretty good time of it.

This is one of a few conventions in Western Canada that has a more "literary" bent: they focus more on writing and text rather than the "media" sci-fi out there. The programming was about half-and-half, but there was good coverage (there weren't two seminars at the same time I wanted to go to) and the guests were for the most part well spoken and had some quite interesting things to say.

Capa had a good time and didn't go crazy in the vendor area as he feared he would. That's a tough thing to do when presented with so many toys...

For myself, the whole weekend struck a very strange note... correction, it struck a very strange chord with me. It triggered off some old feelings, some new ideas and something I'll have to do at a later point here. The latter I'll explain later the former and preceding and I'll get into now.

As stated, I hadn't been to a con in fifteen years or so. Going back to one was a ... bit of shock for me. There of course the knee-jerk cry of "Neeeeeeeeeeerds!!!!" a la Homer at the back of the mind as folks paraded by in Jedi, Ghostbusters, Everquest, Farscape, generic fantasy and even Firefly outfits (note: Star Trek costuming was distinctly absent, I wonder why...). There was also the jarring realization that a good many of these people I saw at conventions fifteen years ago.

Immediatly after, another realization shamedly rose in my mind: I am the intruder here. A lost son who comes back and sees that his home is no different, but he himself has changed dramatically and sometimes not for the better.

Which in turn triggered yet another emotion: sadness.

Back in my hey-day I would attend three or four conferences a year with my friends. They provided a fantastic counter-point to my rock 'n' roll lifestyle as a radio DJ and concert promoter; a chance to have excellent conversations with intelligent people about topics that were mutually loved and respected. Some of the best, strangest and eye-opening things and people attend at every opportunity.

And I had willingly disconnected myself from that community, that spirit and that drive.

It relates directly to my last point which I will need to write-up (With great care and attention) and present at some later date. But I will say this: there was a time in my life where I had to change myself almost completely to survive both mentally and physically in what was a "hostile economic environment". That change forever altered who I am, what I am, and what I am capable of. It makes me a better writer (potentially at least) as a consequence, but in doing so it has made me less of a "fan".

And I cannot fully return to that, at least not with the same passion I had when it was a central piece of my life: community, love, respect, laughter, wonder and joy. But I still can visit once in a while, and if I'm willing (as I know I am capable) to make another change in myself, I can return through the other side as a writer. A new role in a old, and lamented, part of my life.