Comic-Con Weekend... and I'm in LA.

I'm filled with a bittersweet feeling this morning. It's Day 2 (or 2 1/2 if you go to Preview Night) of Comic-Con International in San Diego. It's the largest convention in the US for comic books and related popular culture, and I've been going since I was 13 and living in San Diego. That's 21 years folks, it was one of the first dates Steve and I took together (hell, it was our first travel date as well) and because of work I am missing it.

After those first two years simply attending the show I began volunteering so I could get in free and spend my admission money on buying comics. But I soon connected with a group of friends who were the freaks and geeks of society. The drama kids, the Star Trek nerds, the wargamers, the costumers, the dudes who never got out in public but knew every bit of trivial information you could possibly find on movies, TV and comics. Within that first year, volunteering wasn't about getting in for free it was about having a solid group of friends I loved seeing all the time.

And in that group I stood out as one of the crazy cool people. Not just because I knew everything there was to know about Wonder Woman-- which in this group wasn't just amusing it was also respected-- but I was the token gay and to them it seemed so alternative! Wild! Creative!... I was actually appreciated for my queerness, and it was a feeling I'd never experienced until that point in my life.

Those friends have also remained with me-- my girlfriend Anna Maria and I have been roommates nearly every year until now-- and for some it's the only time that I get to see them.

Perhaps this acceptance came because we were all outcasts to some degree, but the bottom line was that I found a second home that allowed me to feel protected, and it seemed only fitting that I would later go on to publish the Comic-Con magazine-- I was helping promote the event that had given me shelter as a young person.

So when I've gotten calls this week from friends in San Diego, all wondering when we can hook up for lunch or a drink, I feel a twinge of sadness. But here's the other thing that I realize...

I can feel somewhat sad, but I can't feel angry or wounded by the situation. You see, during those same years growing up in San Diego, I would sit in on panels where TV and movie creators or authors would discuss the creative process and I would imagine being up there on that stage. I wanted to work in entertainment, I wanted people to see and read my work, and out of all those other friends at the show I was the one who went on to follow the dream (another perk, I suppose, to being gay and not letting those "I can't" fears bog you down). So now I am missing the convention because I'm working on a TV show, and one that the public is already responding to. What I should be is thankful, and so I am. Very much so.

As my friend David says-- who is down there right now-- the show will go on next year, and the year after that. And Steve and I will be able to revisit it then. So this year, I'm going to spend some time working on my fictional novel about the convention and thinking about all the good memories I have from that place, realizing how good it was, is and will be in the future.