Now despite the fact that I like a good weekend every now and then where I literally do nothing but stay at home and play League, watch college football, sleep in until the dog starts barking his need to go pee and living off of whatever’s left over in the refrigerator and pantry, there’s no doubt that it can sometimes be pretty lonely doing such. Not necessarily in the “oh noes, Danny is making another ‘I wish I had a girlfriend’ post” kind of way, but really just being around other people in a fun social engagement in general kind of way, because when the day is over, I’d rather be in good company, chilling out in a relaxed setting.
Such does not occur as often as I’d admittedly like it to occur, but most of that falls on me. I live out in the sticks that are often as surprised as I am to be considered part of the Metro Atlanta area, and it’s a pain to get to anywhere without having to think about niggling details like traffic, time, and fuel consumption in the back of your head sometimes. Also, it’s not that I’m a raging alcoholic by any means necessary, but I do like to drink in social settings, and I’m always paranoid that there’ll be another sobriety checkpoint near my house again, but it’ll fall on a date where I’ve had one or two beers and no designated driver; my dad got a DUI a few years ago, and he’s living proof that no number of decades of safe, immaculate driving record is impervious to the damages a DUI can do, which scares the shit out of me sometimes.
But I think that part of the equation is that I’m not really one of the cool kids anymore. Don’t get me wrong, I’m speaking writing candidly here, and this is by no means meant to be a pity party; but sometimes I look at myself in perceived social circles and I just don’t see myself as one of the cool kids in any of them. I don’t think there’s inherently anything wrong with it, and I’m not trying to display poor self-esteem by admitting such, but it’s how I feel. I know a lot of the cool kids in each of these social circles and there’s something positive to be said about that, but when the days are over, it’s not often that I’m the center of attention or seen as the best at any particular skill or talent that would warrant some adulation in any capacity.
I’m grateful for everyone one of my friends and acquaintances that takes the consideration to invite or include me in plans, ideas and events, whether or not I take them up on them. However, when I think of myself in social standings, I perceive myself as somewhat of a utility guy; I’m alright to have around, but not essential. Maybe it’s because I’m known to take pictures at gatherings and actually post them, maybe it’s because I’m typically gracious enough to ask if I need to bring anything, and typically do whether I need to or not, or maybe I just am particularly liked enough to be invited. Regardless, I love it when people think to include me in social events, but in this day and age, with social media and the fact that I actually have a Facebook account now, it’s easier than ever to find out when you weren’t included in something.
Getting back to the title of this post, about me loving goodbyes, since one thing I’m really good at, is needing 600+ words before getting to the point; there were a couple of times in my life where I feel that I was pretty popular, and could possibly be perceived as somewhat of a main-eventer in such social circles. But in each of these instances, I eventually up and walked away, and admittedly there are times I wish I didn’t. However, I did, and there was no turning back.
Why did I do it? Mostly, it’s because they lost their fun eventually. Somewhat, because my ego was feeling wounded from feeling like I was being taken for granted. Maybe it’s because I have a martyr complex in some capacity. But apparently, I just seem to really love saying goodbye.
Some people reading this might know it, some people might not, but back in the day, I was somewhat of a big deal in the cosplay/convention scene. All because I had a convention site that had boatloads of costume pictures and a whole lot of opinionated writing and lame attempts at humor and inside jokes. Just by doing what I once thought was a good idea at the time, I made a lot of friends, many of whom I’m still friends with, to this day, and got a few perps in the process to boot. I got press access (free admission) to a few conventions, and was once invited as a guest and costume judge at another.
More people knew who I was, than I knew who they were; in a small niche community (at the time), it was safe to say that I was kind of popular. Random people would occasionally engage me at conventions, and I always enjoyed when people I didn’t know would email me, instant message me, or leave a message in my guestbook (remember those?). One of the best feelings I remember back then was when I took someone’s photo, they asked if I was going to post it, and their friend said “I have his site bookmarked.” But mostly, I really enjoyed the fact that just hosting a website full of pictures and writing opened the door for a moody sort of introvert like me to easily meet people.
But eventually, the novelty began to wear off in passing years. At that time, there weren’t many reliable resources to get convention photos from, and I like to think that it was always Kevin Lillard’s Fan’s View site first, but if people knew I was at a convention, then they knew to check mine. I always enjoyed the small influxes of communication that tended to open up whenever I posted to [cospML] (remember THAT?) that photos from ____ convention were up, and I always hoped to make a new acquaintance or two out of the numerous people I’d meet by taking photos. Eventually though, that began to dwindle, and eventually stopped, but it wasn’t until I started finding sites where people were lifting my pictures and re-uploading to their shitty Geocities and Xoom sites that they would never nurture beyond a month, and giving me no mention, no credit, or no link back to source, that I began to get really jaded and resentful of the community that I had enjoyed being a part of.
When it began to feel like I wasn’t seen as a person running a site where pictures were hosted, but instead an unmanned website where people could find free images of themselves, the fun was more or less sucked out of running it. I became upset, and did not want to feed into the egos of others any further, and was tired of people taking my photos and not giving me any credit for.
Honestly, I expected a little bit more support than I got when I shut the doors, considering how many people proclaimed loving my site, but the few individuals that did drop me a line to express their thoughts really touched me, and I still hold these people in high regard.
I look back to those days 12 years ago, and wonder if things would be different now if I didn’t say goodbye. When I see how big the convention scene has exploded to these days, I think that there’s no way I could hit up this many conventions without it totally encroaching on like, all of my personal time, but I also think that with this much saturation, it’s a much wider expanse for me to have continued to have meeting people, and trying to make more single-serving friends. I don’t necessarily have regrets for doing it, since it was actually a lot of work that went into it, but occasionally wonder if I could have salvaged some of that popularity from then and parlayed it into today.
I know it seems ironic that I still go to a few conventions here and there, and still post all my images, but the difference with now compared to then is that I don’t have expectations of people visiting my brog, actually reading anything beyond the hunt for pictures of themselves, and I don’t really expect to make any new acquaintances from my personal site. I take the pictures because I legitimately want to get better, and think that costumers often make good subjects to shoot. Also, as it pertains to convention photos, I watermark them now, in spite of how much I didn’t really want to have to, but it’s a different time now, and I’d like to get due credit if any photos I’ve taken are displayed to audiences that I’m unaware of.
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Back in 2006, when baseball was the only thing in the world I cared about at the time, I grew weary of the generic canned corn bullshit that mainstream sporting pages, websites and Braves.com would display. I wanted to know more and learn more about my team, and eventually on a query of “Atlanta Braves fan page,” I came across Talking Chop, and dove right in.
Eventually, I stuck around for a while, and learned a great deal about baseball in general, and not just all about the Braves. Eventually, I began to apply my newfound knowledge, and began posting things on TC that were attempts at sharing information as well as blending in my propensity for pop culture and nostalgia, as well as all the traveling I began to do in order to pursue the goal of visiting all of the Major League ballparks.
By 2008, I was put onto the writing staff, and I began to really hone my enjoyment of writing, as well as my growing knowledge base of baseball jargon and statistics to write stuff on TC on a somewhat regular basis. The web was full of robot-like writers that were wizards when it came to baseball information and ability to analyze the game, but had absolutely zero personality and ability to relate to the common man baseball fans. My objective was always to try and be informative, as well as remain engaging and entertaining so that I didn’t bore my audience to death in information pieces.
Needless to say, my approach made me fairly popular within this baseball community, and my love for travel introduced me to fanbases of other teams in other MLB cities. Being a somewhat jovial person that’s respectful of the boundaries of other places, I was able to win over and make a few online friends with people who rooted for other teams across the country as well. I always felt that the best honor within this online baseball community was whenever I was name dropped in not just my own Braves community, but by communities of other teams.
Throughout the years of my online baseball writing tenure, I enjoyed more than few free beers from people who simply inquired to meet me on my travels, a few free meals, and lots of good conversation and interesting people met. Furthermore, writing about baseball online afforded me a few interesting opportunities, like getting interviewed and credited for some baseball information in the AJC (before it went into the shitter), a blurb about ballpark food in Sports Illustrated, as well as contributing some articles for a few Braves publications. It was kind of mind-blowing to know that there were actually people willing to pay me for writing about something I would’ve likely have written for free if asked.
But eventually, the honeymoon began to wean on this ride as well, and it got to a point where writing my weekly columns began to feel like more of a chore than it did something fun. As the years passed, the Braves became good again, and then an influx of fairweather fans began emerging, clashing with long-time regulars, and destroying the community’s dynamic in general. As for my weekly columns, the number of comments would dwindle, and statistically, it wasn’t getting as many hits as some of the other posts that frankly I thought weren’t nearly as good, or had as much effort put into them as my things were; but mine being a weekend piece, it had that obstacle going for it. I genuinely enjoyed engaging with the community when they commented or engaged me, but it just began to feel like nobody gave a shit about my stuff anymore.
When the then owner of the site decided that he was done with it, and decided to pass the reigns onto someone else, I realized right then and there that that was about as good as time as any to get out of it myself. It wasn’t fun anymore, it felt like a chore, and I had already defied the rule that I should bolt when it’s not fun anymore.
Upon my farewell post, people began emerging out of the community to bid me adieu and say some nice things, which made me feel nice, but in the back of my mind, I’m thinking “where were you guys in all the other weeks then?” But it was nice to see that in the end, people still did respect me and my opinions, and in the few times I’ve gone back to drop a random comment, a few of the old regulars still appear to be excited that I’m still swinging by as a visitor.
I don’t regret having left TC at all, because I feel that I have slightly more free time than I used to, and I don’t have to feel like I have an obligation to peruse through links and read stories for content to use in my weekly column, and I don’t have to feel disappointed when there are low hits and no comments. But admittedly, there was an apprehensive moment when the Braves won the division this year, and I was thinking how it would have been pretty cool to have remained as a staff writer in the event that the Braves won the World Series; obviously that didn’t happen, so the scenario is moot, but I’d be lying if I said that the thought didn’t cross my mind.
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The point is, there were two points in my life where I felt as I had a modicum of popularity that was pretty nice, but things eventually went stagnant, my ego felt wounded, and I eventually said goodbye to both of them. Sometimes, I wonder if bailing when the things got rough was the best idea, considering that there are occasions where I feel insecure and insignificant in my own little world.
I liked feeling popular, but I can’t really honestly say that I did things for the pursuit of popularity. I did things like posting pictures and writing about conventions and baseball, because I liked taking pictures and writing, and those are things that I had wanted to do, and it was always to attempt to engage people with similar interests and might appreciate my opinions and takes on things. The popularity that came from such seemed, I suppose, organic and earned, which made it feel good that people liked me for what I generated.
This post is beginning to go all over the place due to the fact that I’ve had to stop and start repeatedly, but I guess the bottom line is that despite the fact that I’m content with not necessarily being popular or really one of the cool kids of today, but I’m not going to pretend like I wouldn’t enjoy it if I were. I don’t necessarily think the door is really open for me to pick up one of these previous pursuits and expect for the same results to come around again, after all, it is a vastly different day and age compared to six to twelve years ago, and pretty much anything I’m interested in today, there are frankly an endless number of people that are more capable than I am at doing them, from League, creating to weight lifting and running. And I’m fine with that. I don’t think there’s an awful high interest in how begrudgingly proficient I am at PowerPoint or my savvy with InDesign.
In closing, there’s something innately intimate about the act of the goodbye, even if it means shutting the door on something that may or may not be regrettable in the future. It’s like you can sort of count on at least someone or some persons to emerge from the shadows to shine a little bit of spotlight onto you, even if you’re leaving for good. I’m by no means depressed or emo-y right now, but it was a thought that I’m not sure how it got there, but has been swirling around my head today.
Maybe it is somewhat of a martyr complex, but goodbyes aren’t the end of the world. They’re sometimes beautiful, and apparently I kind of love them.
