COMICS CULTURE SHRAPNEL from CBEM 359
All of you know this - I'm sure that you have comics to be catalogued, movies to see, games to play. As much as we protest that we don't participate in these things in lieu of a social life, if certainly crowds that life out. I spent several hours last entering my last two months of comics into a spreadsheet and then doing the same for six months of VHS tapes (most of which actually belong to my mother, thank you very much). Then I read some manga.
This morning I realized with horror that I hadn't written my column, so was faced with a choice of either not handing it in or going straight home after work to write it before the deadline. Instead I'm sitting at work trying to finish this in-between other work, all because after I leave I wanted to head over to Circuit City and complain about the full-screen DVD edition of A.I. that I bought. I wanted widescreen.
God, I'm such a dork.
I've been thinking about this recently. A little bit because I've been to a convention and it was my fourth in the past year and I still have more trips planned; because I'm now on the staff for a convention and people are actually starting to do things for it; because I've written an article for an anime magazine and then gotten into a flame war with the president of the club that publishes it.
But mostly because I watched "Welcome to Eltingville" on Cartoon Network, which in turn inspired me to actually start reading "Dork". And it amused and frightened me, because I have of recent seen the uglier side of fandom, and it really scares me.
I love the fan community. I meet lots of interesting people, I always have a good time... but then there are some things I've started to notice. The obvious one (which I've always been aware of) is the bad hygiene. There's the horrible superiority complex that some people have (some "indie" comix fans, Star Wars people, or shoujo fans). And there's the apparent disregard for real-life responsibilities (I'll never stopping reiterating the story of my friend who lost his job and apartment all in the same weekend).
It seems there are only two ways we can go - either give it up (which I couldn't do, aside from all the freakiness, I'm having a good time) or totally embrace it (and those people are really scary. But then, we could always convert the world. Why be accused of having no life when everybody's doing the same thing? Why forsake responsibilities like work when it can be your job, your duty?
You can say that's what we've been trying to do, convert the world. Make them like comic books. But what we're promoting is an artform, not the lifestyle. Most want to see that lifestyle dead because it gives comics a bad image. And it does, in certain groups and certain practices.
But as the old adage goes, "don't throw the baby out with the bathwater." Fandom has given us valuable support, discussion, resources. No matter how far comics go, the fanboys and girls will always be there, anxious for Wednesdays, enthusiastic and giddy. Occasionally rabid and drooling. But they gave us webpages and campaigns. They're part of the reason creator rights are so important now ("I buy everything by so-and-so! I worship the very ground s/he walks on! Blah blah blah!"). Many titles now popular outside the comics industry were popular with the fanboys first (Dark Knight Returns, Preacher). And let's show some love to the people who spend hundreds of dollars a month on their pull list.
Damn, I love being a fan. A comics geek. A fangrrl. I've said it before, and I know I've sounded like a broken record in this column about it. I love what I do, no matter what people say. My own mother is waiting for me to grow up and out of this fan crap. Maybe I will someday. But for now, I'm having a ball. So do your geeky thing and don't listen to other people who tell you that you don't have a life. Are you enjoying yourself? Well, great. Why stop?