20150729.0654

I am happy to note that another freelance order has finally come in. I doubt I will be able to complete it before this week's payout date, so it will be a little while before I see the money from it, but I *will* see the money from it, and that is the important thing. That, and making the note that it is odd that I would be so happy that I have more work that I can do. I suppose it means I am in the right line of work in terms of freelancing; if I am nearly giddy at the prospect of having a new reading assignment, I am surely doing a job fit for me to do. But it still strikes me as strange that I would be so happy for more work. (It would seem to give the lie to some of the assertions made about persons of my general political persuasion. How one can be lazy while celebrating having work to do...)

To move to another topic: I have noted reading webcomics before, and I have scarcely discontinued the practice. Most mornings, as I do a few things in advance of taking my shower, I look for the most recent "strips" of the several webcomics I follow and have followed, many for several years if not for more than a decade. As I have read them over the past few days, I noted that many of them note that irregular updates are forthcoming, for GenCon approaches, and attendance at it disrupts normal schedules. And as I noted so, I found myself taken with a bit of nostalgia, which disturbs me because I know that reminiscing rarely ends well--yet I cannot avoid it, somehow. Perhaps by writing of it, I can expel it from myself, enacting a reflexive catharsis in the hopes of moving forward well.

In 2003 and 2004, I attended the convention in the company of a few friends and several others, known to those friends but not to me. I did so largely with the thought of collecting information for my honors research (such as I understood research to be at the time--I have learned much since then). The 2003 trip was, in the event, my first real exposure to the culture of fandom (my social circumstances were...not ideal), and I found myself overwhelmed by both the press of people and the intensity of their devotion to the many properties represented (and not represented) at the event. I participated as best as I could, and I enjoyed my time in a number of the sessions on offer, but I know now that I suffered from reticence based in fear. The 2004 trip was better. I did more, and I was more confident in doing it, but I still withheld myself from engagement because I was in large part afraid. Not of the people, so much, although there is a certain amount of concern that attends on immersion in any large gathering. Instead, I was afraid of making a fool of myself--which is an odd fear to have amid people dressed in motley and as science fiction and fantasy races in various stages of dress. (I saw ridges and spots in interesting places.)

The fear is still with me, of course. I worry greatly about appearing the fool even now and in most circumstances. It remains an oddity, of course; I am not alone in not really needing to worry about it. Why worry about a certainty?