I'm moving up in the world.
Recently I journeyed up to Portland to attend my first ever convention, OryCon33. Yup, you can now officially hand me my geek card, and I'll be on my way to assert my new status in the world, thank you, sir. It was altogether a thoroughly enjoyable, experience. I tagged along with a friend and his family, and mostly wondered around the hotel aimlessly, gawking as all the cool stuff, and thanking God I was there with friends.
I attended several interesting panels, about horror, magic and fantasy, schmoozed the Dark Horse booth for free stuff (who's a B.P.R.D. agent, with badge and everything? Oh, yeah) and admired all the nice costumes. I even played some boardgames.
Apart from a burgeoning obsession for working for Dark Horse someday, a healthy respect for the social skills my parents insisted I learn, lingering surprise at the popularity of Doctor Who, and admiration for the sheer awesome that are conventions, I seemed to have developed a new fascination with buttons. Pins. The things seedy politicians hand out to easily impressed campaign volunteers. Whatever you want to call them. I fear my friend was correct in attempting to dissuade me from buying them. I see them everywhere, now, and want them all.
Welp, lets just add this to my list of things I compulsively and obsessively collect:
- Quarter Machine knick-knacks
- Scarves
- Action figures
- Fun, or bright-colored socks
- Pens and Pencils
And now—
- Buttons
I don't even wear socks. On the bright side, though, I avoided all sex gods, and most of my collectables can be displayed on the shelf over my desk. This helps me feel less like my life is a colossal disappointment to any and all who had any realistic expectations of a successful life for me. I mean whenever I see that my mom's on facebook, or when I realize I haven't talked to my father in almost three months I just look up at my first-appearance Wolverine action figure and my Vulcan salute button and take comfort in the fact that anyone who has already been woefully disillusioned with me won't actually be all that surprised when I announce that I've decided to take Klingon as my second language.
More helpful guides to college life to come.
