(Yes, it took me a while to decide whether I should bother typing this up or not.)

Unthrocon 2014. It was the first convention I've ever officially attended. It was a small, local event, one I could actually afford to go to. I had been feeling mildly depressed for quite a while - the kind of bored, broke, useless feeling that results from over ten years of unemployment without any regular income. I badly needed a reason to get out of the house, to have some place to go and people to meet. This was an opportunity I couldn't really afford to pass up.

Besides, it was on my birthday, and I could think of no better birthday present to give myself than a little adventure. Those were the two words going through my mind when I decided to push the button, to commit, to actually spend the money and preregister for the convention: "Birthday adventure".

And then the big day finally rolled around, and I was in trouble. I had had a sore hip for the past couple of weeks; goodness knows how I managed to injure it with my sedentary lifestyle, but there it was. It was an intermittent pain, the kind that would go away, come back, slowly fade away, then suddenly return if I slept the wrong way, or put too much weight on it, or that sort of thing.

I also, having no idea what to expect, wanted to be prepared for anything, so I packed lots of snacks, lots of drinks, a few tools in case of emergency (because I'm pretty good at fixing computery things), even some ethernet cables just in case I happened to overhear someone complaining about the unreliability of hotel wi-fi; and also my fall jacket, that I ended up not wearing at all because it was a warm, really warm day.

Unfortunately, I started packing a little too late on Thursday night, and then I had to make a choice: Finish packing and get no sleep at all, or sleep and then scramble to finish packing right before leaving. In short: I got three hours of sleep, and left for the convention an hour later than I had planned.

I can drive, but, mainly because of fuel and parking costs, I prefer not to when going all the way to the big city. I took the bus. The convention hotel had a bus stop very near to it, just on the other side of the block, which certainly wasn't too far to walk... except maybe for someone who had the kind of hip injury that could be aggravated by a significant amount of walking.

Although I did my best to hide it from the wolves, the truth is, I was limping really badly during most of my time at the convention. It got so bad, in fact, that I finally just had to leave, an hour earlier than I had originally planned.

This meant walking back to the bus stop, a block away. This also meant that, after I got off the bus, I had to walk the distance from the bus stop to my home, which is uphill, and not a short distance at all, even for the fully able-bodied.

By the time I got home, I was so sore and exhausted that I couldn't join the family at the neighborhood Halloween festivities - the reason I had planned to return home that night in the first place.

I really wanted to return to the convention the next day, as I had planned. Instead, I was so badly injured that I was practically bedridden and popping ibuprofen all day, hoping I might recover enough to go back on Sunday. The event I most wanted to attend was on Saturday, but it was too late for that.

Then Sunday came. The convention wasn't over yet, but for me, it was. Post-con depression started hitting me hard. I was losing my last opportunity to go back for more. I felt terrible. I had missed nearly everything. And my hip still really, really hurt.

The convention was a three-day event. The total amount of time I spent there wasn't even three hours.

It probably didn't help much that, because it was my first convention, I was practically a nervous wreck, and excited, and a little lost and confused. And it was warm inside the hotel, too; At times, I was sweating like a copper pipe in the Middle East.

And it hurt. My overall health is just not good at all right now, and if that doesn't change, I wouldn't dare put myself through an adventure like this again.

However, I did get to see some of the things I wanted to see, and meet some people I had really been looking forward to meeting. There's something mildly surreal about being able to be friends with someone for a long while, and then meet for the first time. I got to see some cool fursuits, too - I even worked up the nerve to photograph a few. While I didn't get the chance to hug a full fursuit - that had been an ambition of mine for years, and still is - I did get to examine some gorgeous fursuit heads very closely, and even pat one of them.

In several important ways, it was worth it. For the few, albeit very few, things that I managed to accomplish in my short time there, I will always be grateful.

Perhaps, some day, I may adventure again. If I'm up to it. It might be a while...

I've been feeling it ever since I first discovered "furry" in the early 90s; Ever since I first clicked on a cute animated counter on a Geocities page, found the site of someone who likes webcomics, was eventually led to the artists of "Yerf" (while it was still at its peak), and discovered the whole idea of "fursonas"...

I should have a fursona.

In all the writing I've done in those many years since (most of which you will never see), I've invented a lot of characters, a lot of interesting personalities and some interesting stories. Practically none of these were attempts to create a fursona for myself, though. There were a few vague half-assed character ideas that were, but none of them felt right (or even remotely close), and all were either discarded quickly or recycled into story characters.

This isn't something I can just make up. I already am something, I've concluded. So I can't just pick a species I like and say "this is me", because it's not. Just saying "I'm a (species) now" has never sounded right in my head; I've tried it. Saying "I'm a (species) because I love those" is even worse; I could never be so narcissistic as to believe myself the sum of everything I love! I also don't want to be one of those people who identify as one species for a few months, then find a better match and suddenly change species, change back a few months later and then suddenly become something different, complete with changing names (and sometimes genders) and getting new FA accounts without even informing anyone... all just to repeat the whole process again a year later, and so on. (Yes, I've seen that!)

Yes, people change and grow over time; I get that. But if, as a result, you're switching entire identities in and out ad nauseum like Seagate Barracuda hard drives in a rackmount file server, you're probably not looking for identity in exactly the right place!

I'm a perfectionist. I want to get this right the first time; to discover the furry identity that immediately, accurately, perfectly describes exactly what I am, exactly who I am at the deepest levels. This isn't something I, nor anyone, can imagine or invent; It's something that must be discovered, unburied, tiny puzzle piece by tiny puzzle piece.

And it hasn't been easy. There is no mirror in the world that offers this kind of self-perception, no camera that can photograph the shape of one's soul(s), no meditation nor medication that enables sufficiently deep introspection, and no psychologist nor prophet possessing that level of insight. (Or at least none that I can afford!)

Not even my dreams have been helpful at all: I've had dreams in which I've been at furry conventions, completely surrounded by brightly-colored toony animals of various types and styles and qualities, but I'm just the same ol' relatively-mundane me in human form, the only one there lacking a costume. There was even one dream in which I met a specific fur whom I've been a fan of for a few years (not saying who), and he felt sorry for my suitless self, and offered to lend me a spare he had in the back of his car, a rusty yellow VW punch-buggy. Before we could reach the car, I suddenly woke up for no apparent reason - perhaps subconsciously rejecting any identity that he could possibly have offered me. (Even within my own subconscious.)

How does one identify one's soul?

It's a weird, lonely kind of feeling, sitting here, feeling insubstantial as a ghost among so many of you; you creative German Shepherds and silly dholes and playful coyotes and wolves, you friendly pandas and charming bears and just-plain-sweet porcupines, you cookie-obsessed cougars, cartoon-obsessed brony kangaroos, just-plain-weird-yet-still-likable turtles, cats, dogs, dragons, otters, mice... and the foxies, goodness, so many foxies! And here's me, so close yet so far from that world that I see you all in... Almost like I'm waiting to be born. All that's missing is a body; all I need is a form!

At least I've been making progress, especially in the past several months when I've been putting real thought and effort into this. It's been slow, and intermittent, but every little bit is progress.

The trick, I've found, is not to try to look at who and what I am, and who and what I like; it's to look at why. To that end, I've had to examine, in uncomfortable detail, various aspects of my present and past; the things, good and bad, that have made me what I am.

You've been helping, too; perhaps more than any of you realize. Providing the occasional offhand observation or random bit of inspiration, or creating your own characters that I enjoy and/or feel I have much in common with - leading me to consider why, of course. The influence that all of you have had during this time has been most invaluable!

I'm finding lots of these little details and events and aspects, and collecting them into a large, long and detailed mental list. Some ideas get minimized, maybe even discarded, but others need only minimal tweaking; and they start fitting together like puzzle pieces, and begin to form a picture.

During the process, interestingly enough, I've figured out that this is extremely close to how I've created a lot of the characters for my stories: By focusing on the story first, and the characters' roles in them. These roles typically determine the characters' back-stories and personalities, which then influence the characters' designs.

In short, I'm just putting together another story. Except this time, the story is me.

And, now that I know that, I'm nearly done. I've only got a few little gaps left to fill, a few details left to finalize. This shouldn't take long. I will probably have something to share with you very soon!

My icon seems to be getting a fair amount of attention! Thanks, everyone, I'm glad you like it!

For those of you who actually use C64 emulators, I do plan on releasing a C64 game or two eventually! Progress has just been really slow due to the number of other projects I'm working on at the same time...

This just in: Celebrity vows to stop eating cameras because they add ten pounds.

This just in: Russian military leaders admit to being big Seinfeld fans, then joke about invading neighboring countries for the sole purpose of "killing Independent Georgia".

This just in: Government leaders raise minimum wage too high; lose own jobs.

This just in: Following the airing of an episode of Family Guy that consisted of ten minutes of Conway Twitty singing, a five-minute commercial break, and then ten more minutes of singing, the Family Guy writing staff are forced to admit they may be running out of ideas. (14 white guys in California were slightly injured in subsequent rioting.)

This just in: Two vertically-challenged people pose as normal-sized person at furry convention. Discovered while accepting "originality" award.

This just in: Small group of reality TV stars vow to fight global warming by holding their breath.

This is just a small poll: How many FA accounts do you have? I'm wondering how many people are out there who actively maintain 2, 3, or even more FA galleries.

(This is more than just a passing curiosity, by the way. I've got an idea for a script that'll let users login to multiple FA accounts simultaneously, but before I start putting any effort into this, I want to know if there would be sufficient interest in such a thing...)

Every time I see a picture of a raccoon in a garbage can, I think to myself, "Why? Why do people keep throwing out perfectly good raccoons?"

Quite literally, in fact! I'm working on a piece of music right now, and there are parts of it in which I want a crowd of people shouting "Hey Kangaroo!" and "Roo! Roo! Roo!"

Would you like to be part of that crowd? Do you have a decent microphone, a few minutes of free time, and a good place in which to make a recording of you yelling "Hey Kangaroo!" and "Roo! Roo! Roo!"?

Your voice would be most welcome! If you'd like to participate, please go to this page, which contains detailed instructions and a link to related media.

Feel free to spread the word as well! Thanks!

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Submissions received: 11
Goal: 20 by Christmas

(Legal disclaimer: I'm posting this to my own journal. Therefore, I am -not- shoving my opinions in anyone's face. I've seen some of your faces and I wanna keep as far away from them as possible!)

I've noticed some issues that have been brewing for quite a while. And now, some recent drama has brought it to the forefront. In the interest of trying to encourage some sanity, I feel it necessary to state my opinion on the matter:

I'll start by trying to distill the situation into its simplest form:

Category 1: Folks who like a thing.
Category 2: Those who don't like the thing.

Within each group, there is a subgroup:

Category 1A: The fans who like the thing so much that they go batpoopy crazy nuts every time they encounter someone in Category 2.
Category 2A: Those who hate the thing so much that they go batpoopy crazy nuts every time they encounter someone in Category 1.

Naturally, drama will ensue whenever a 1A and a 2A meet. When multiple 1As and 2As get involved, the result can be a brawl on a massive scale. Sometimes an attempt is made to peacefully convert someone to the other side, but most of the time, there's just a lot of yelling and screaming and threats of violence. Eventually, both sides end up looking so freaking stupid that we end up with Category 1 despising Category 1A, and Category 2 despising Category 2A, almost as much as 1A and 2A dislike each other.

Next thing you know, everyone's stupid! And everyone else gets yelled at just for mentioning the thing or acknowledging the existence and/or the popularity of the thing.

Now, I'm not going to say whether I'm in Category 1 or 2, because it's not relevant to what I'm trying to say here. I am, however, going to say this:

Those in Category 1 should respect the right of others to be in Category 2.
Those in Category 2 should respect the right of others to be in Category 1.
We must all face the fact that, if the thing is popular, there must be a reason for it. (That doesn't mean we have to like the reason.)
The only reason there's a problem at all here is those A groups. So don't make an A outta yourself.

...

By "the thing", of course, I'm referring to...