Today was Day Three of Toronto Comicon, and the final day for it this year. It was a much more low-key day for Tim and I, especially compared to the madness that was yesterday! We got a much later start, and took in back-to-back panels of Jonathan Frakes and Jason Isaacs. Both of them were SO MUCH FUN, but in different ways. Frakes seemed to be having a good time, wandering the crowd, teasing people (himself included), and telling stories of his incredible career thus far. Isaacs took control early on, encouraging people to take photos at the start, then to put their cameras away. He wanted to see faces, not phones, and he wanted everyone to be present in the moment. He then went on to answer as many of the questions he’s been asked about Harry Potter as he could, each story even more entertaining than the last.
The rest of our time was pretty much spent just wandering the show floor, having a last look at all the stuff we couldn’t buy. It was a pretty great end to a fantastic con weekend.
In other news, I realized this morning that a few days ago – March 16th, to be precise – was the 20th anniversary of the day I first admitted I might be gay. Out loud. To other people. In a way, it was kind enough to f shocking how such an occasion could slip by almost completely unnoticed. In another way, though, it wasn’t surprising at all. More…interesting than surprising.
It used to seem like this huge thing. I celebrated it every year, for awhile. My gay birthday. It had felt like a new beginning; not a re-birth exactly, but more of a fresh start, one that came with a better understanding of who I am. I finally felt like I fit in, and knew my place in the world around me. My friendships were different, everything felt more open and real. I felt like I could breathe for the first time.
And so I celebrated that, for a time. The birth of the real me. As I got older, though, I started feeling different again, and like I still didn’t really fit in. I wasn’t really like those other people, either, nor did I feel like I was really like I was expected to be; not even like I expected myself to be. Assumptions were made about me based on that one thing, and after awhile they stopped feeling true, too. So I stopped celebrating, because it all started to feel less and less like me.
I did notice a kind of fun thing that I’d gone through when I first came out, as well, though. I think, in many cases where someone is a bit older when they realize their sexuality is different from what they first believed, people go through a kind of second puberty. Not in a physical sense, but in an emotional one. All of a sudden, someone in their 20’s/30’s/40’s or whatever age they happen to be, start running around like they are 16 again, obsessed with dating, and sex, and bravado and drama. The need to joyfully announce yourself to the world – to shout out ,”I am here!” – is almost overwhelming sometimes. It’s a newer, truer, beginning to the adult world, regardless of how old you are when you discover it. It’s a huge part of who you are, and it’s all brand new.
Anyway, for me, at least, that wore off a long time ago, and doesn’t even seem like it’s still a part of who I am now anymore at all. I remember what it felt like, but don’t feel like I have any connection to it anymore. Nor to people in general, though, so that’s possibly part of the problem.
I guess for now I’m just lost again.