Outside the Fishbowl

Friday, November 20^th marked the opening day of Orycon, a science fiction and fantasy convention that we had been planning on attending since we moved to Portland in July. The brisk November morning, got off to a rough start though. The westbound MAX lines were sluggish so we ended up walking the last third of the way, and we learned that a family member had passed away earlier that morning. I was also trying to trouble shoot a printer issue by phone for the company I work for part-time, so by the time we got to the Orycon check in desk, on the lower floor of the Portland Waterfront Marriott, we were both in a very odd headspace. After taking a walk through the dealers room and touring the conference center, we retreated to a nearby restaurant for lunch and to regroup.

While we waited for our food to arrive, we plotted out what we wanted to do over the course of the three-day con.  Going hour by hour we weighed and measured the merits of each seminar that caught our attention so we could spend our time efficiently; a complex task when there could be up to a dozen different seminars, workshops, and classes on every floor of the conference space at any given time.

“Are you guys with the convention?” 

The man sitting next to us is perched on the edge of his chair trying to get a look at the colorful program books and fliers we received at the check in desk. Bo and I had managed to hammer out a schedule for Friday and part of Saturday and clearly this man was completely fascinated by our conversation.

“I’ve been watching all the costumed people everywhere. Is it like Comicon?”

“A little,” I said, “I think this is more focused on writers though. They have a ton of writers here and a bunch of classes on writing.” 

“I love to read. I’m almost finished with the last Game of Thrones book.”

“Oh really, what do you think?”

“He’s too long winded. I think I might put it down. Can you recommend anything?”

“Of course!”

 Over, the next several minutes Bo and I peppered the man with titles, author names, genres, and short story collections. The Martian, The Iron Druid series, 2312, the Dresden Files, Cherie Priest’s Clockwork Century series, rattled off our tongues and onto a notepad the man pulled out to collect our outpouring of suggestions. While he wrote he would spit out quick questions about content and themes, and the two of us would shake out a one or two sentence run down before free-associating to another title.

The more we rapped about what he liked and what we suggested, the more excited he got. Likewise, his excitement buoyed our spirits and helped carry us into the next several sessions and panels that we attended. His questions, at least for me, helped clarify why I was here; to connect with a fandom and craft that I hold dear to my heart. It’s so easy to get caught in the fishbowl of a convention, that we often forget that people look in, sometimes in wonder others in curiosity, at the passion we have for the fandoms we inhabit. Sometimes it’s nice to get out and share that with others. The man, this stranger, was genuinely thankful for the raft of titles that we shared, but I am not sure if he knew how important he was to us.

Happy Thanksgiving!

An Ongoing Anniversary

“So, have you decided what you want to do for our anniversary?”  

Bo shrugs her shoulders in answer to an ongoing discussion about what to do on our upcoming wedding anniversary, which is three days away.  We had been married for seven years so the event isn’t  a big one in the sense that it isn’t a milestone year, like five and ten.  Yet, we still want to do something, but we hadn’t been able to pin down an activity that fit the occasion.

“You want to just do the Kennedy School?”

The Kennedy School is a hotel and resort run by McMenamins, who specialize in rehabbing historic properties and turning them into hotels, bars, and attractions and is where we got married in 2008. The Kennedy School was once an old elementary school and has served as a backdrop for at least one anniversary and countless other evenings, meals, and movies.  

 “So where did you get your hair done?” asks the blue haired waitress dropping off our lunch, “since we seem to be hair twins!”

Wrapping myself in a cliché, I tune out and focus on my meal, while Bo and the waitress talk. Bo frequently gets her hair colored in vibrant colors, which usually spurs conversations with strangers about what they want to do or have had done to their hair; conversations that sometimes go in different directions.

“Have you heard of the Passport?” she asks as I tune back into the conversation a minute or two later. She then digs through the stack of menus and fliers on the table before, finding the Passport brochure, and taking us through how the program works. 

The Passport is McMenamins’ reward program. For twenty-five dollars a person, you get a book that you present at each McMenamins’ locations, where they stamp it with a unique stamp. Each page represents a region like Westside Portland or Downtown and when you finish a page, you get a reward in the form of swag, food, or gift certificates. Some locations, like the Kennedy School hotel and Edgefield, take up a whole page and you can grab a page full of stamps and a reward in one afternoon. In addition to visiting, you can also get stamps for trying their seasonal beverages, ordering flights of the McMenamins’ alcohols, or participating in McMenamins’ sponsored activities. Once you have a stamp for every open location, you have achieved Cosmic Tripster status, which gets you a prize package that includes an exclusive Tee-shirt, three vouchers for hotel stays at any of the McMenamins’ hotels, and access to a party with all the booze you can drink.

“I will let you two talk it over while I get your refills,” the waitress says walking away.

In most cases, these kinds of programs make my skin crawl. Bo and I are protective of the data that we put out in the world, so unless I can see a definite benefit to helping an organization collect data I tend to ignore the program. The Passport, like McMenamins itself, is rooted in the past. Instead of a barcoded keyfob or other impersonal system, the Passport is old school with paper pages and ink stamps to track your progress.

“What do you think?” Bo asks.

I chew on the inside of my cheek while I consider.

“It can be our Anniversary gift,” she says and adds “think of like re-celebrating every time we go out; an all year Anniversary!’

“Why not?” I finally say, “we like McMenamins and there is usually one nearby most of the places we go regularly.”

“And it will be fun,” Bo says waving the waitress back over.

Walking out of the Bagdad, Passport in hand, I turn to Bo and ask, “So you want to go to the Kennedy school tonight?” 

Small Victories

When we arrived at the Pearl Room at the main branch of Powell’s book store in downtown Portland, two dozen people had already staked out their spot for the Jenny Lawson reading. Each one lost in a book or quietly conversing with friends while they waited for Lawson to arrive. Lawson’s visit is a part of a book tour to promote her latest memoir, Furiously Happy. Over the course of the next two hours the two dozen would fill the floor to capacity and a separate room where people could listen to the reading.  I am one of about two dozen men sprinkled amongst the hundreds of women who have shown up to see the author read. Standing 6’2” and 270lbs, I can’t help but feel a little awkward, but like the other people who have come early to see the blogging phenom, I am a big fan of Lawson’s work. Fortunately, I could hide alongside my wife, who introduce me to Lawson’s blog, thebloggess.com in 2012, shortly before her first book came out. When she announced the Portland leg of the tour, we couldn’t resist the opportunity to see her live. She is one of the few authors that I have come across that can adequately and succinctly describe the social chaos and personal upheaval that a person struggling with depression, or really any mental disorder, deals with on a regular basis. I have directed several friends and family who are dealing with depression and anxiety to Lawson’s books or blog.

That, and she is wicked funny.

Lawson read two chapters from her book: one long, one short. The first was the opening chapter of her book, which is about the words we use to describe mental disorder, that takes place through a conversation with Lawson and her mother. The second was about a dog food eating pharmacist.

I have heard Lawson’s voice through some of the videos she has posted on her blog or on CNN. Often when I read a book, I assign a voice to the narrator, either my own or someone I know who fits the tone of the story. Rarely is it the author’s. I listen to a number of podcasts so sometimes one of their voices emerges.  Reading Lawson’s books, and listening to her read her own book, I couldn’t imagine anyone else reading her stories. They are singularly hers and anyone else reading them would feel weird, like putting on someone else shoes. It put me at ease and for a while, I was able to forget that I was sitting in an uncomfortable folding chair with my own person struggles.

The Q&A is short but Lawson’s openness is evident in how she engages the audience in the Pearl room, honestly and unabashedly answering questions about how she dealt with emotional issues as a teenager or offering advice on how to introduce someone to your own struggles.

Before opening the room up to the book signing, she thanked the audience for their courage in making it to the event. Lawson writes about her struggles with depression and anxiety cultivating an audience who may themselves be agoraphobic. For many in the room, myself included, going to an event in a busy store, in downtown Portland is a victory. Lawson even made space for people who couldn’t stay due to mental or physical fatigue; you could leave your books with the staff and Lawson would sign them to be picked up the following day.   

There is something odd about waiting in line for someone to sign a book. The feeling is similar to when you are about to go on a date, or meeting someone you admire, or interacting with someone you don’t want to be a fuck up in front of. A messy ball of excited hopes and personal expectations that grips your guts while you stand there trying not stare at the person you are here to meet and creeping them out. A sensation I have felt before interviewing a subject for an article. For me time seems to dilate creating an odd sensation of hyper-awareness of everything that person is doing that is extinguished as soon as they say ‘Hi.’  

Fortunately, Lawson is lovely. As soon as it’s our turn, her smile puts us at ease. As with many of the people in line, Lawson even agrees to a picture. Although most wanted to have their picture taken with the author, Bo, my wife, wanted a picture of Lawson holding a sock she was working on. Lawson then takes a moment to sign our books; she even personalized our book, which was wonderful. 

Bo and I walked away hand in hand having spent a wonderful afternoon with an author we admired, looking forward to her next book and visit. I could go on at length about the fan community that she has formed and how, much like Amanda Palmer, she encourages them to participate in charities but I won’t. Instead, I encourage you to visit her blog, join in the community and watch Lawson’s next book take shape.

Resources

There is a new resource section where I am cataloging some of the interesting fandom related materials I have come across in the course of this project. These are books, websites, films, or organizations that are dedicated to a specific aspect of fandom. Again, it is by no means exhaustive, and as I come across more I will post them here. I am always on the look out for materials about fandoms so if you have suggestions please let me know.