Mars, the Bringer of Slack
I headed off to this year’s MarsCon with a single objective: to get drunk. I’ll be the first to admit that classier goals exist, but with one thing or another, 2010’s started off rough for me, and I needed some release. Besides, I drink so little that half a glass of dessert wine once a year is enough to make me pretty loopy.
I never got that drink, but I never needed to. A weekend of friends, costuming, laughs, and even a little gaming turned out to be just the prescription; by the end of the weekend, my body hurt, my head was spinning, my legs wouldn’t hold me up, and life looked so much better than it had a few days ago. In the short time since NekoCon, I’d forgotten why I devote so many resources to con-going.
I’ve avoided gaming at cons since I burned out on MechWarrior: Dark Age. Con gamers can be so angrily competitive that even winning leaves a sour taste. (And let me tell you, I’ll never play Button Men again.) This weekend, I got to game the way I enjoy it: Jesse Braxton brought a cards-and-custom-dice game called “Inn-fighting”, which was fun, fast, arbitrary, and not worth getting angry over. I’ve missed that kind of convention gaming so much.
Tom Monaghan and I began rebuilding our friendship this weekend. He’s not the same man he was a few years ago, but he’s more like the friend I remember from high school, older and wiser. He rediscovered BattleTech this weekend, and wants to get me into a game soon; we even discussed resurrecting Artificial Intelligence, or a descendant, as a webcomic. Do I have the time and resources for that? I don’t know. Am I fascinated by the idea? Yes, though I’m not sure who should draw: Tom is a better artist than I am, but a regular drawing gig would likely refine my skills a great deal.
I really do have some relatively traditional fan costuming planned for the future – I made contact this weekend with someone who could help me with some old-school anime outfitting I’ve always wanted. But from various (positive) comments I received this weekend, I’m developing a reputation at MarsCon for my over-the-top outfits, and I’d be lying if I said I’m not enjoying the rep.
The capper for the weekend? A casual enquiry about a costume commission led to a possible acting gig. Nothing’s set in stone, but I’m really stoked: I love the stage and screen, and I haven’t done any serious acting since Space Rogues. (Yes, I took it seriously. No matter how comedic or surreal the material, it’s not the actor’s job to laugh at it – only the audience’s. That’s often forgotten in low-budget work.) This is thrilling news!
Don’t know how long I can hang on to it, but I found my center again this weekend. Thank you MarsCon, for the opportunity.
The Forty-First Mikhail
The Tenth Doctor was the Crown Prince of emo.
This was a man who has saved the lives of friends, family, cities, civilizations, planets, and once the existence of the universe. He owns a machine that lets him travel to almost anywhere in time and space, seeing sights and having adventures no one else can match. On top of that, he enjoyed a fulfilling if unconsummated romantic relationship with a woman 880 years his junior, as well as brief flings with the likes of Madame de Pompadour and Queen Elizabeth I.
But, we’re expected to believe that his life sucks, and that somehow he didn’t get properly rewarded for his efforts.
My point here, is not a lengthy rant about how David Tennant’s Doctor was written. He had moments of charm and brilliance, and I’d watch him before Colin Baker most any day. No, his last episode led me to look at my own regeneration. We all do it, you know; though for most of us, the process is far less dramatic. Still, I don’t look, act, or think much like I did when I was sixteen.
Oh, there’s continuity there: I have plenty of memories from that time, and some of my quirks and mannerisms from back then remain in my personality. I certainly look more like I did at the time than Christopher Eccleston looks like Jon Pertwee. But like the Doctor or the Master, I’m simultaneously the same person and not.
Honestly, I’m pleased with the majority of the changes in myself, though I sometimes with I still had my teenage body. (Perhaps a little less scrawny, though.) I prefer being more experienced with life, and perhaps having a touch more wisdom. Being older is the price I have to pay, and since the only other offered option is being six feet under, I’ll take it gladly. Someone should have pointed out to the Tenth Doctor that getting to live a life of daring adventure, plus not having to die when all the rest of us do, doesn’t suck as much as he insisted it did.
Off, to outer space…
Starr thinks I should totally cosplay the new Yamato uniform. I like the looks of it, but the leather might be a little difficult for me to work.
I love that little fanfare that starts the theme song. Makes me want to go out and save civilizations.
