This weekend would have been my seventh Katsucon. If I had gone.
In the past six years, I haven’t missed it. Held first in my neighborhood and later a modest ten-minute drive away, it’s far and beyond my closest convention. Despite the lines and chaos, I always found time for it between my senior year of college, grad school, and beyond. My first Katsucon was a journalism class project in college. My second Katsucon, I embedded in the maid cafe to record participants and guests. Since then nothing has kept me away, from a blizzard that threatened to shut it down to breaking my foot the day right before and attending anyway, in a wheelchair, so I could report on an Artist Alley scandal. Between all that, I treated the show as a friend reunion, meeting up with people I rarely saw the rest of the year.
Over the years, however, my friends began to lose interest. Katsucon wasn’t about piling into a hotel room and catching glimpses of each other between our seven diverging schedules. At first it felt fancy and grown-up for John and I to get a hotel room all to ourselves and skip the gobbled fast food meals in favor of sit-down dinners. But as the novelty wore off, we began wondering if this was how we wanted to keep spending our hard-earned vacation money. In 2015, John and I spent a good $500 at Katsucon (you can thank a Perfect Grade, the most complicated and expensive Gunpla model, for that) and decided enough was enough.
Kind of. I have been murmuring on Twitter about my intent to show up, despite not having secured a badge yet. Until I woke up on Saturday morning and just… didn’t go. I had planned to interview couples about love, and tie it into the way my husband and I have spent over five years dedicating our Valentine’s Day weekend to Katsucon. But the thought exhausted me, and not because I’m afraid of hard work. (Heck, instead of going to Katsucon, I built an entirely new affiliate site, for fun.) What tired me out was that I could already see my long day unfolding in front of me without even leaving my bed—I would brave the cold, wait in at least one long line, and spend too much money on food and in the Dealer’s Room to “reward” myself for reporting. I would spend time attempting half-hearted hellos with former friends I’ve grown apart from, none of us having enough time to give ourselves the proper reunions our friendships deserve.
In short, Katsucon had become a routine for me, and I wanted out. I probably should’ve stopped going last year. But when you want to cement yourself as a Name in the fandom, the way I wanted to be known as the Otaku Journalist, cons are the social events of the season. I had serious FOMO thinking about the opportunities and meet-ups I might miss.
And if I’m honest with myself, it goes a layer deeper than that. I’m afraid of changing.
If I stop enjoying conventions, what’s next, that I stop being a part of anime fandom? And if that happens, who have I become? You may recall me having a similar identity crisis when I took on a part-time job as a web developer, putting my Otaku Journalism to the side. When you write in the same blog for six years, you (and everyone else) see your evolution as a person right out there in the open. And my biggest fear is that I’ll become somebody so different, so unrecognizable even to me that the title “Otaku Journalist” no longer fits.
I’m already a different person than I was when I discovered Katsucon seven years ago. Deciding not to go was a matter of summoning the bravery to acknowledge that—and the will not to see it as some sort of anime fan failing. It’s about seeing Katsucon for what it is: a yearly event, not a tool I use to grasp onto my identity. Skipping a year doesn’t mean I’ve unalterably changed as a person, just that it’s not one of my priorities right now. Just like that, I was at peace instead of anxious. Saturday evening, I scrolled through my Twitter and Instagram enjoying everyone’s photos, but never once wondering if I should be there, too. And at the same time, I felt the contact high from the thrill of anime con energy, and came up with some plans for next year’s Katsucon. Panels, reporting ideas. Projects I’m ready to dive into for Katsucon 2017 now that I’ve removed all the baggage of “making an appearance.” I broke out of some kind of mental prison in which Katsucon was something mandatory for me—and now I can’t wait to go back.
If you went to Katsucon, I’m sure you had a wonderful time (despite that electrical fire snafu). It’s one of my favorites for a reason. I hope to see you there next year.
Photo of the Gaylord National, where Katsucon is held, by David Clow
13 Comments.
Any chance you might make it to AnimeNEXT this year? We’ll be closer to you now that we’re going to be in Atlantic City.
@VinceA:disqus sorry, I don’t think so. With the trip to Japan coming up, I am planning fewer trips domestically. But thanks for the reminder that it’s coming closer! Maybe 2017!
I relate to this sentiment extremely closely, especially with the upcoming Anime Boston, which will be my seventh in a row if I decide to go this year. I’ve been so focused on Anime Conventions and with anime culture at the height of my blog that it really got wrapped with with my identify and sense of self. Especially after I started giving panels.
After an Anime convention where I gave a panel I would go back to work, go back to the mundane normal life that I had left behind for three days. At an anime convention I knew people, I stood in front of crowds, and had the attention of people who wanted to hear what I had to say. Who laughed and clapped and cheered. Even as my interest in anime faded from it’s height and I didn’t want to focus all my writing time solely on anime, the convention experience that I had fostered over the years has no equivalent in any other fandom.
So I don’t want to miss any chance I can to get those feeling, but I want to spend my money and vacation time traveling to new places and doing different things. It’s a weird place to be. It’s like being stuck between two different worlds.
@Gundampilotspaz:disqus I hate to say it, but I’m skipping Anime Boston, too! Not for the same reason though—I’ll be in Japan when it happens.
Your experience sounds like post-con depression to a T. I can definitely relate and it’s giving me an idea for a post on what to do about that.
To me it seems that your on the peak of being burnt out:going to the same con every year, the con having almost the same content each year, seeing the same artists and dealers in their respective places etc etc. I’ve felt that too, but on the gaming side. Anyways maybe a change of scenery would be good, like how about a West Coast/Cali con or maybe a Texas con. maybe even do something like West Coast vs East Coast con similarities and differences
@disqus_eiXeBDMLz7:disqus that is SUCH a good point! It blew my mind when I went to Geek Girl Con 2014—different artists and dealers, WAY different panels, it was the refresher I needed!
I have faced the same range of emotions before. My boyfriend and I a couple of years back use to make a point on going to as many conventions as we could in the DFW area, which included A-Kon, Fan Days, Dallas Comic and Sci-Fi Expo. We ended up dropping the non-anime conventions after realizing the amount of money we were spending just getting IN and to see the celebrities. Now, I get the range of emotions from excitement to dread when Dallas CC announces their celebrity line up because I want to go, but once I remember the past experiences and how much money we ended up spending, the idea quickly diminished.
I’m hoping that doesn’t happen to me for A-Kon, but I can see where the same ol’ thing every year can be rather redundant and boring. I’m too in thoughts of doing a panel once Yatta-Tachi has a better footing and get to share my experiences on running such type of site. :-) Let me know when you are doing a panel, I would love to come see it!
Kathy, h will. lol
Nice things can get old. Unless you have some sort of burning passion that takes you. But I feel for people with sensibilities at some point each visit is worth less than before. I’ve skipped out on AX for a year here or there, because even as big as it is there are many parts that carry over each visit. It’s a completely normal thing. If all else remains equal the feeling will fade and you will want to go back again. Or find a similar experience.
I totally feel this! There was a period of a year or two where I was following nearly 20 anime faithfully each and every season. Now I watch 5, and I often wonder how I find the time!
Blogging and administrating now makes me worry if I’ll ever lose the joy of examining otaku culture and anime.
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