This comes under the heading of “a tongue-in-cheek look at my own psyche.” I’ve always stated (with perhaps too much emphasis) that I’m not “into” science fiction. I mean, Star Wars was great, ET made me laugh and cry, and Avatar was a really fun way to spend 280 minutes. But am I a sci-fi fan? Until recently, the answer would have been no.
But then last week I joined 150,000 other people at the San Diego Comic-Con. Just a few years ago, Comic-Con was a medium-sized convention for fans of comic books, graphic novels, and (to an extent), science fiction. But it’s exploded into a legitimate phenomena and mini film-festival, where celebrities of varying stature mingle with their adoring public. It’s still largely sci-fi-centric, but the boundries have expanded to include many things that are genre-defying and/or slightly off-kilter: Dexter, Nurse Jackie and Family Guy being three of them.
The con was a really unique and fun experience (and yes, I do have pictures to post on Facebook! This weekend, I promise!). It was for the most part a cheerful crowd (isolated pen stabbings notwithstanding): all of us were bonded by the general atmosphere of festivity and the aching feet we developed while standing in line. As I chatted with my fellow fun-lovers, I found myself repeating my firm stance that I wasn’t a sci-fi fan. And then something remarkable happened: I started listening to myself! This is what I heard:
“I’m not really into sci-fi, but I love Battlestar Galactica.”
“I’m not really into sci-fi, but I love Firefly.”
“I’m not really into sci-fi, but I love Futurama.”
Hmmm, am I crazy, or is there a pattern emerging? Suddenly I realized that my professed indifference of the genre was just my way of “playing it cool,” much like we used to do as kids when we didn’t want someone to know that we “liked” them!