Let me tell you something, boys and girls. Being a geek is a lot of fun. Sure, the average age in which we have our first sexual encounter tends to be a little higher than most folks. Sure, we get a bit surly from getting picked on so much by our fellow peers in school- the overmuscled, steroid-fueled jocks and cheerleaders that made first grade through senior year such a miserable mess. But things get better, and when they do, they get better.

Being a geek is fun.

Of course, like with all overwrought generalizations, it’d be wise to qualify my statements- smart to give them definition and feature. Questions are begged, answers are demanded, and after a heavy dosage of Hunter Thompson, Spider Jerusalem, and my first load of stimulants in over half a week (slept through three classes in a row, fuck), I feel like answerin’.

So what do I mean by “geek?”

There’s a common thread that runs through all those either externally categorized or self-identified as “geek.” That thread is passion. There is intensity in even the most depraved, the most dull-witted of us geeks- a focus on something. We’re obsessives, one and all, clinging to the tangible and intangible- but mostly intangible, as what we cling to is the symbolism inherent in the gewgaws and trinkets we shovel our monies out for. It is an act of rebellion, in one part, a denial of the socially acceptable forms of “growing up,” for another, and overall it’s mainly a matter of finding joy and hints of happiness through means in which others have overlooked.

One of the things about joy and happiness and rainbows and sunshine and all that shit is that it’s a lot more pleasant, a lot more enjoyable, with company.

You will note that there’s a very similar maxim about “misery.”

Let’s face it. Sartre was right. Hell is other people. But Sartre didn’t have the teachings, nonsensical and wise, of Our Lady Eris to then show him that Heaven was much the same. All the shit we put up with came from other people- as did all the happiness, all the bright moments, in our lives. Our triumphs are paid for by the effort of others- our tragedies forwarded to us in turn. And so this absurd farce that is life continues to turn and turn, Hodge and Podge in an eternal dance, and who knows which one is Hodge and which one is Podge when they keep on swapping roles so suddenly, so quickly, so meaninglessly?

But enough of that.

In about a week, I will be picking up a shiny, laminated badge. It will have my name on it. It will have one of my (not so) many and (not at all) various alternate identities on it as well. Given the convention’s tradition, it will sport either a muscular and athletic anime male, or- if I’m lucky- a sultry, seductive anime female. It is a ticket to a yearly ride, boys and girls.

A ride straight into the heart of geekdom.

FanimeCon. I have known thee for many a year. I was there when it was still under eight thousand attendees, each year the halls of the Santa Clara Convention Center growing cramped and cramper yet. I was there the first year they moved to San Jose, and the year after where attendance actually dropped for the first time. I was there when the slack picked up, the convention was fun again, there were more people than ever- and everybody suddenly started looking so young.

I will be there again in a week. With questions. Seeking answers. Hyped up on enough caffeine to give a lesser man- of which there are many in this world- a fatal heart attack. Hyped up on enough sleeplessness to lock a man up in a mental institution- and who knows? I can’t claim that I’m man enough to avoid that.

Why?

Because there are questions to be asked, and answers to be sought. A Truth to be found, if one can be found amidst the rabble and the freaks and the eccentrics and the weird.

Why are we, the ten thousand of us, the mounting numbers of us from here in California, and elsewhere in this nation, disintegrating faster than the moldering paper we wrote our dreams, our fear, our hopes- our Constitution- on? Why are we geeks? Was it all marketing hype? Were we all mislead into this thin-skinned, desperately proud, bitterly recalcitrant subculture of ours? Or am I not imagining things- and there is a reason to be a geek?

All extrovertive searches are, in truth, introvertive soul-searching. My idols sought the spirit of America, and the spirit of Humanity itself, so as to find, with hope and with fear, what made them tick themselves. I’m not so great- I’m just some guy with a blog. But maybe I can find why I even bother writing these words, these stimulants-laced, hormone-addled thoughtspams, by finding- or trying to find- what makes geeks tick.

It’s something worth doing.

That’s good enough for me.

Mahalo,

Gonzo Mehum the First, Pope

Erisian Noosphere of North America

HAIL HAIL ERIS ERIS ERIS