For the past 8 months I've only been able to talk about depression. Let's try something else.

This blog is coming to you in two parts.    

Part One: PAX West

     I went to PAX for the first time ever. I've lived in Seattle my whole life, I've loved video games since I can remember, I worked in the video game industry, and I never went. I thought I wouldn't have people to go with. I wouldn't know what to do. I wouldn't know where to go. I'd end up alone and overwhelmed and scared. I never think I belong anywhere. Anxiety.

     This year, the stars aligned. I live a block from the light rail, so I couldn't use parking as an excuse to not go. I cat-sat Leigh & Ryan's cat's in exchange for a badge, and I got the day off. I honestly had no idea what to expect. It was POURING rain on my walk to the light rail, and every train car was full of PAX attendees. As we filed into the convention center, I had no idea where I was going, but following the river of rain-soaked people seemed to be the only option anyway. When I walked into the dark & neon main hall, I smiled, I felt excitement, I felt giddy. I immediately ran into my friend Joe dressed as a King, who I swirled away from in a rush of excitement. Walking around was sensory overload in the best way. I was with my people. Why do I pretend I have no tribe? Why do I tell myself I belong nowhere?

     We played a game called Blockships, at the PAX 10. Super fun. Leigh and Ryan are into pin trading, so I tagged along with taking pictures and other tasks to get pins. My first pin was Toejam & Earl, I traded it during the Penny Arcade staff trading event for a cute Kemper one.

     After the convention center closed, we ended up at Gameworks for some free event. When Gameworks opened in 1997, I went with my family. I don't remember much except pure anxiety. It was bright, and loud, and crazy. I remember wanting to be a part of the fun, wanting to play games, but being too afraid. Too afraid to look dumb. Too afraid to seen. I hadn't been back since.
    At this event, we got free beer, and free game cards. I played whatever game I wanted with abandon, and we used the majority of our credits trying to win Adventure Time plush toys from a claw machine. It felt like I conquered so much that day. I was reminded how important other people are. How important it is to do things that bring child-like joy. To drop the performance. To do things that cause anxiety and bust through that anxiety anyway. The other side is a sunlit clearing, with cats and friends and hugs. And video games and laughter and good food. There is happiness to be found, and the affects of it leave a shimmering gold thread that outshines the dark gray woolly ones.
     Thanks to a surprise day off and very generous friends, I got to go on Monday, too. It was a chill day of aimless wandering. We played a co-op game called Meekazoo that had me roaring with laughter from our mistakes.
     Ever since Leigh and I have been buzzing about cosplay outfits we want to make. Maybe even in time for Emerald City Comic Con (I've never been to that one, either.) I'm planning to be Rainbow Quartz from Steven Universe.

Anyway. PAX was great. Another story after the break.

Part Two: A Hammock in a Park

     I got asked for a hammock for my birthday, and a good friend delivered! I found Bear Butt Hammocks, and I highly recommend. They're a tiny company making great hammocks at a way better price than ENO. I've always loved being in a hammock, I had one on my balcony for almost a decade. I didn't realize that part of the reason I love it so much, is it hugs you from the bottom. Half a swaddle. The other day, Grace and I woke up and went to Empire Coffee, where we got vegan donuts and coffee. We grabbed a sandwich and snacks from PCC, I filled my hydroflask with ice water, and brought a deck of cards. We found the most incredible spot under willow tree on the water in Seward Park. An absolutely delightful, peaceful day. I do not want to forget the way that feels. In the darkest times, I don't believe I can ever feel joy again. I have to document it. I have to be reminded of how good life can be. To lay cuddled in a swaying hammock, staring at the slowly moving leaves, hearing the gently lapping waves. It is difficult to hate yourself in this environment. Mt Rainier was in perfect, majestic view over the lake. There is something about mountains and trees, so much larger than me. So calm.