Taking a break from rubbing my nose against this stupid grindstone to eat, and ponder. (Pondering works better with food, and food tastes better if it's food for thought. But I digress.)
Something that FC brought home that I have, to some extent, become a fixture in the furry community. Not on the same plane with Terrie Smith or Jim Groat or somebody like that, but enough that I am recognized and on fairly friendly terms with a lot of the movers and shakers of the furry community. And enough that I know my way around the furry block ... I know my "Yarf" from my "Genus," my Herbie from my Eric Schwartz, so to speak.
Recently, I've been chatting with a young artist who's just getting introduced to the fandom, and it's kinda weird to see him oohing and aahing over stuff I saw years ago, and it reminds me what it was like, to be blown away by Nakira/Wookiee
, to go to my first "Furry Bowling" event and have a strange sense of being in a living cartoon as all the fursuiters clowned and goofed around at the bowling alley, to discover an unexpected goldmine of cool art called Yerf
I find I miss that wide-eyed wonder. It's hard to maintain, of course -- when you've seen something, examined it closely and picked it apart, it's very difficult for it to surprise you again. I imagine this is what leads people to constantly be seeking the next New, Big Thing. I also suspect this may be one of the things that's been bothering me when I try to write Suburban Jungle
lately, is its familiarity. Been there, done that, mammallamadevil
made the t-shirt. ;)
So how do I go about restoring this sense of things as being new, exciting, and full of wondrous energy? I have no friggin' idea ... but it's something that bears thinking about!