Reflection 2: A Small Spark vs. a Great Forest

There are a few things I would like to say about Nekocon 2008: First, it felt like it never happened. Now I throw those words around a lot, like when I talk about the entire summer of 2002 or the latter half of 2009, but Nekocon is a mere 5 days of my life, and for some reason 2008 felt like it came and went without me. Some cons I attended last year (Boston, Anime Mid Atlantic and Otakon) went by without any definite memories associated with them, while others (Anime Next, Katsucon, Nekocon, Anime USA) stand out as major parts of my experience. Neko 08 was definitely a fly by, I remember getting there late, being drafted into helping a vendor set up and break down, and finding a Starbucks for coffee on Sunday morning, but that’s it. I know I LARPed, but I couldn’t recall what happened; I bought stuff in the dealer’s room, but I can’t exactly remember what; and I think I hung out with Greg Ayres, but since I see him at every single con, it might be memories crossing. But Nekocon, like a lot of my 2008, can be summed up with one major event: it changed my life.

I have some truly wonderful friends. We love to help each other out with things. I’ve known Nagi Oki for about 8 years now, she was the one who got me back into congoing after a two year absence. She’s also an artist and does a lot of Transformers related fanart. She has a booth she runs at various Artist Alley’s where she sells art and handmade crafts, and twice a week she shoots a photocomic called “A Talented Amateur,” which she posts on her Deviantart account. I count her among my closest friends and we have shared a lot in the past decade. (She also makes the absolute best Christmas cookies, but that’s beside the point.)

Well, on the ride back from Neko 08 I was starting to feel con withdrawal setting in, and it led to me being in a bit of a funk. I had been managing to get by in real life to that point mostly by looking forward to Nekocon, and now it was over and I had the future staring me straight in the face again, with no real way to escape or dodge it. So, somewhere around Baltimore, I started expressing my worries to her. I told her about how much England had turned me off to archaeology, and how I was now nearly three years into grad school with no direction. I had no interests I could pursue and the idea of a library thesis scared me and seemed like the ultimate torture (A library thesis is one that is done without field work- normally the student selects a theory or some other factor and analyzes it with intent to refute it or put their own spin on the idea, essentially creating a new one. They are ridiculously hard to justify and requires months of reading and cross referencing. Imagine your worst term paper from school, add about 50 required sources to it and bump the size to around 100 pages and you have the general idea). These fears I laid out in stark words, and looked to them in hope that they could give me an answer I had not thought of before.

Nagi looked at me and said, with something of a childlike innocence: “Well, what is it you like to do?”

My reply, influenced completely by my burgeoning post-con depression: “Well I liked what we just did, going to cons.”

Said Nagi: “Then why not study them?”

Me again: “Oh come on, there’s no way I could ever propose doing that.”

Nagi: “Well, why not?”

I looked back at her, mouth open and ready to reply when it struck me: I had no answer. Why couldn’t I draft up a proposal revolving around the study of conventions and convention attendance? I was an anthropologist, I did study culture. Cons have culture. The entire concept of fandom itself is just one giant alternative culture, rooted in something created and sustained by human ingenuity. Hell, the department had even green-lighted a project based heavily around leetspeak earlier in the year, one that I had given substantial amounts of my own time to developing. At that moment, everything started clicking. I began to have ideas about what I could do with data, what I could pull from attendees and what I could relate from my own experiences. It was all rough, mind you, and full of giant holes, but there at the forefront of my mind, waiting to be tended and developed.

I came home from that Nekocon with a dumb smile on my face and an idea I was positive I could swing by the department. It wasn’t easy, I needed to meet with a lot of professors beforehand, run ideas by them, talk to my fellows, read journals: it was a very intense time period that I still don’t fully recall, but I had meetings every week, coaches to contact and all manner of time spent fine tuning a hypothesis and research methods. I wrote it all down, at the behest of one of my advisors, in a lovely 15 page proposal that outlined what I was trying to accomplish, why it was relevant and how I would go about implementing my field work.

I don’t remember the date I went in to the Graduate Advisor’s office, but I remember being very scared. I was worried he might laugh at me, might tell me the idea was baseless and unacademic. I was Terrified I would end up back at square one, after all my hard work. I prayed, I hoped and I wished. I set the proposal down on his desk, sat in one of the chairs in front of him, and waited.

He opened the cover page, scanned the first few lines, and set the proposal down. My heart sank, he hadn’t even read it over. Then he looked at me, and said. “Do it.”

I wish I would have seen the look on my face then. I wish I could remember the feeling of relief that flooded through me and cooled all the fires that raged in my head and my heart. I wish I could have at least recalled how excited I was becoming at the thought of undertaking a project so dear to me. I asked him why he was letting me do it. With a warm smile, he pointed to the opening line of my proposal, and said that was enough for him.

That line, those ten words, would become the be all and end all of my life for the next year, even up until now as you are reading this. They grace my business cards, all my research, all my emails, even the top of this very page.

“I’m not Japanese, but I pretend to be on weekends.”

And so began the Con Year.

Reflection 1: And lo, there shall be an origin...

A lot of people ask me how this all started. Indeed, every time I attend a con or a department function, I am always greeted by exclamations of shock and awe that I am actually studying anime and anime conventions. And I am always asked the same question: How did you pull this off?

The answer to this requires a bit of explanation.

I entered college a full decade ago, with a potential major in psychology and absolutely no direction. This is not a rarity among incoming Freshmen, in fact the sense of awe, raw potential and overwhelming choices often scares new students away from upper academia. But it was here that I stumbled across a class in anthropology that would change my life.

For those who do not know, anthropology is the study of humanity. Each of the four fields of the discipline relate to one form of human origins: Biophysical deals with the evolution of the species within science (also known by the vernacular term of Darwinism); Archaeology deals with the study of the rise of human civilization, organized society and technology; Linguistics deals with the evolution of language; and Sociocultural (my field) with the development and inheritance of intangible culture. In the past, this meant that my fellows studied “primitive” societies and tried to gleam from them how we developed into what we are today. In a more modern world, this study is found less and less, and a lot of scholars debate where social anthropology is going. I am part of a group of anthropologists who see that the world we live in creates and sustains its own “virtual” cultures centered around mass media, the internet and ascribed community. In the past, this would have been labeled as “subculture,” but thankfully that term is falling out of widespread use.

I wasn’t always this way. For a good deal of both my Undergraduate and Graduate education, I wanted to be an archaeologist. I have a deep seated love of the past, and I found classes focusing on ancient history, ancient religions and generally “old things” to be fascinating. I spent years cramming my head full of facts and dates and other information related to the pursuit of archaeology. And my university was more than happy to give me more: so much, in fact, that I devoured everything present and began to make plans to become a crusading archaeologist, studying the Vikings or whoever struck my fancy.

Then came the summer of 2008 and I decided it was time for me to leave the US for a bit. Nothing very long term, just a jaunt overseas to put things into perspective and maybe satisfy my travel bug, which had been very hungry of late. So I browsed the internet and discovered a lovely little archaeology field school in Merrye Olde England, for the month of July. I was in heaven, to say the least. Four weeks of digging up Roman stuff, exploring the United Kingdom, making new friends and generally living it up. Or so I thought.

It turns out that nobody at Hunter ever told me how much, well, digging was involved. I know that many would immediately reply that “it’s archaeology, what did you expect?” and that would be a true assertion. Indiana Jones aside, anyone with even a passing knowledge of the field knows that digging plays a huge part. Unfortunately, at my university, archaeology is more about what we know and less about how we found out about it in the first place. And the only advice they can give about the practical side of archaeology is “go to field school.”

So fast forward four weeks- my England experience has given me two major revelations: first, I really, REALLY like Doctor Who; and second, I hate digging. What’s more, I hate the cataloguing that comes after the digging is done. I hate dragging myself out of bed to sit in a ditch under the hot sun all day. I hate labeling those annoying Finds bags and filling them up with, let’s be honest here, junk. I know that for some people, this is the be all/end all of their passion, but it certainly is not mine.

I return from England knowing something about myself...and dreading what comes next. I had spent so much time and energy devoting myself to the study of ancient civilization that now I was completely at a loss on what to do. So I sat in class and smiled for the proverbial camera, knowing that my time as a grad student would be ending very soon and I had no clue what to do my thesis on. Was I destined to become another grad school dropout, lost in a world of indecision and confusion? What could I possibly do now that my carefully crafted world was coming apart at the seems?

I decided to wait a bit more, maybe after November my head would be clear and I would have some direction. After all, I didn’t want my worries to take away from one of my favorite times of the year. Yeah, I’ll wait until a bit later...

At least until after Nekocon.

This just in...

Study of Anime (and by extension, me), will be presenting at Katsucon 2010. I have three panels scheduled for Saturday, February 13th. So if anyone is going to be at Katsucon, feel free to drop by.

This will be my second Katsucon. I had no idea it even existed before last year, and was pleasantly surprised by its size and organization. This year it is at the Gaylord resort in National Harbor, MD. I will be there through the weekend, working the Anime Pavilion booth and shooting video for the documentary "Con Men."

Reflection on the Con Year: Introduction

One of the truths about grad school is that it eats away at your time. They do warn you about this before you enroll, and they keep reminding you of it as they pile on reading after reading, hour of added study time before you can even set foot in your classroom. They advise you to limit your courses, especially if you have a job, and never cease to remind you that this isn’t undergrad study, so you’d best buckle down if you hope to survive. Speaking from the point of view of an anthropology grad student, it can be hell on you, and my navigation of my field hasn’t even been that grating. Of course, for half of my tenure in the grad program, I haven’t been working full time, so I’ve had more than enough hours in the day to devote to study and research. But nothing I had ever done could have prepared me for what happened last year.

Those who are regular readers on here already know that I spent the latter half of 2009, from Memorial Day Weekend until the end of November traveling. My goal was to get as many replies to my thesis questionnaire as possible, which in turn led me to travel to as many cons as possible. Between the end of May and the beginning of August, I had spent a total of 5 weeks on the road traveling between cons, sometimes with a week of downtime, sometimes continually, all in the name of science. And as I have said before, in the end it got me over 550 surveys filled out, 9 interview with attendees, guests and vendors, and over 200 pages of material gathered from hours spent pouring through internet forums. This was coupled with a horrendous lack of sleep, money being drained from my bank account before I even knew it was there, many hours spent negotiating with hotels and vendors, and a diet so horrible it took me a full month to recover. And that was the easy part.

I apologize in advance if my ramblings stray all over the place. I also apologize for not giving enough time to the site of late. Last year, when the thesis was still far in the distance, I was guilty of slacking with my data, comfortable that Thanksgiving, Christmas and New Years stood between me and the grind of academic writing. Now those holidays are over. Indeed, all of 2009 flew past in a blur, and now I stare down the barrel of a cannon known as a deadline, knowing full well that I need to manage my time meticulously or else I will never graduate by June. Six months may be a long time to many of you, but not when you spend your days entering data and setting up for the next con, knowing that now more than ever interviews and networking are one of the most important aspects of your life, alongside the monster of a paper you are preparing to write. I know some people share my burden, and to others it sounds like a self administered torture in the name of a piece of paper, but when you feel so strongly about something, you tend to jump in and make sure it gets done. That’s why I spend 7 hours a day staring at a computer, that’s why I limit my extracurricular activities, that’s why I don’t sleep. But when this is all done, I know I will have accomplished something, and that something will make my life that much more richer.

So, without further ado, welcome to my series called “Reflections on the Con Year.” I know I said January would be Mythology Month, but sometimes other things can’t be summed up in just one or two entries.

Musings Part II

It feels great to be back. I know I haven't updated in a week, but both myself and the webmistress felt we needed some time away, to recover after the holidays and plan more things for the site. Now I have returned, I feel refreshed, I'm blazing through questionnaires like mad, and I have a new batch of musings to share. The Con Year may be over, but my work never is.

“Rain is god’s way of reminding otaku to take showers.”

It’s true because Jesus told me this one. I can make ruminations here about the infamous “con funk,” but honestly, anyone who has ever been to a con probably has a story about their first experience meeting an unwashed otaku. Yes, I have met people who believe that a jump in the pool is a substitute for a shower (I roomed with one, too), yes I saw people at Anime Next this year standing in the rain, soaking wet, and saying they were clean. And no, it does not count. Kudos to those cons that have implemented “smell stations” to find and force attendees to bathe. I know that cons are a vacation from life, but they need not be a vacation from basic hygiene.

“I like to see who comes out of the elevator.”

People watching is very popular at cons. Be it admiration of cosplay or gawking at skimpy clothes, it is always an adventure to see who is walking around the con. And no matter what size a con is, or where it is located, there will always be a variety. Especially of late, since the trend to cosplay as popular shows seems to finally be dying down. I have always admired people who take time to create elaborate outfits, or who choose to cosplay obscure series, because it not only shows creativity, but also adds to the flavor of the con. It allows for the cosplayer to demonstrate their love for something they feel strongly over. Not to say that the Kingdom Hearts, Naruto or Bleach cosplayers do not. But I will admit I get a tingly feeling when I see a D, or a Gendo (who is much rarer than you might think), or an “obscure” Doctor (like myself) wandering the halls of a con, enjoying themselves. For a community that thrives on expression, seeing who comes out of the elevator is highly rewarding.

“More mainstream people judge otaku as weird, but everyone is obsessed with something. You might pay $4000 to see [a band], but you wouldn’t think that’s weird.”

Truth, plain and simple. Nobody has a right to judge one’s hobbies or expenses when they themselves gave something they feel passionate about. It is universal among all fan cultures.

“I judge a con by how friendly people are. We’re all otaku, so why are you going to snub people.”

Very common complaint, with no clear reasons to explain it.

Cons are, above all else, community. That’s why they began, that’s why they persist. Despite the fact that a large chunk of anime culture originates and sustains itself via the internet, there really is no substitute for personal interaction and networking. There is only so much you can gain from instant messenger, web forums, and IRC. Gatherings of fans, if only for the reason that they are able to meet new people and immerse themselves fully in their hobby, are a necessary part of fandom. It’s why science fiction conventions got their start, it’s why people are willing to drive hours over hundreds of miles for a three day getaway. Unlike the internet, where people eventually have to log off and go back to real life, cons are truly escapes from reality. I plan to make mention of this in the next few weeks, it is a large part of the research that cannot be explained in a few sentences, but as long as their is a fandom, there will be conventions. So honestly, why would someone wish to leave their old life behind, travel to a gathering of like minded individuals, only to cause drama and be antagonistic? This, by the way, is a rhetorical question.

“Did I do everything? Did I make a fool of myself? After the endorphins wear off, I get paranoid. Any one can be neurotic.”

Part and parcel with my explanation on con existence, this feeling runs abound. I doubt there is any attendee anywhere that does not feel at least a bit of regret after the convention is over. By their nature, cons offer so much to do that it is impossible to do it all. Even after a whirlwind year of 9 cons, I always leave one wishing I had gone to this panel, hung out with that friend longer, tried out this costume or bought that piece of art. Even if you have another con coming up next week, there will always be the sense of regret and longing that comes with the return to the “real world.” Con withdrawal, for lack of a better colloquialism, is a bitch.

“When you’re at a con, you’re in the mood to buy stuff.”

When I set out to explain a convention to another person, I often use this analogy: Take a foreign entity, drop it into Middle America and add a healthy dose of commercialism, and you get a con. American consumerism mixing with Japanese products. I feel it explains cons fairly well, or at least it used to.

As much as cons have changed in the present, one must always understand that one of their original functions was to sell things. As much as community is a part of cons, a con without a Dealer’s Room or Artist Alley is somewhat flat. Even though the internet has made acquiring items easier and often cheaper, there are always things that cannot be bought without physical contact and always things like art and food that are unique to the con themselves. Factor in that not everyone has access to the same range of goods locally, and it makes the Dealer’s Room that much more important. Add to this the idea that the escapism offered by the con itself lends more liberal justification to spending habits, and you have an economical juggernaut that can be the center of any con. It’s no wonder why one vendor I spoke with told me he can make as much money in one weekend at a larger con then he could in 3 months at his store. And having worked for vendors myself, I can testify to that.

“Everyone is so nice and welcoming, you feel right at home.”

Right up there with the idea that a con is where you meet your best friends. Community, exposure to like minded people, networking, it goes by so many names, but the underlying concept is sound: if you feel you are alone in your hobby and love for all things Japanese, after your first con, you will never feel that way again. As one person I spoke to told me: “Other cons have been great, but nothing felt like that first Animazement. I felt truly at home.”

Musings

As we have come to the end of Story Month here at Animology, I thought I’d end it as I began it, with a list of musings. Aside from all the advice I was given this year at conventions, I was also privy to quite a bit of musings and bits of “philosophy” related to being a congoer. And most of it makes a good deal of sense, once you’ve spent the time looking into it. Anyone who has attended conventions has these little tidbits of knowledge and observation, and many of them like to share. As I keep stating, community is the most important part of being a congoer, of being an otaku, of being a fan in general, because without other to share in our love and devotion, what do we have?

So I would like to present to you today some of the musings that have struck my fancy over the course of the “Con Year.”

“It’s all about sex and anime. If something leaks at the con, you’re s*** out of luck.”

2010!

 Happy New Year from everyone at Animology!