Throughout the life of this blog, and its predecessor, anime conventions have been a big part of my social activity. I’m grateful for the time that I spent both participating as a patron of these conventions, and for the effort and work I put in to them as a contributor. I made some very close friends through the time that I was with the local convention, and I had some other people who I was not as close to but was still amicable with for the sake of the show. But today, two years after I was dismissed from the service of that show, I cut off the last and most tenuous of those relationships. It was not out of malice, but rather a realization that, since there was no business connection which mandated me to swallow discomfort at certain behaviors, I had no real reason to continue association with those individuals. Of course, it was sparked by one incident and one individual in particular, but that was (as is usually the case) the straw that broke the camel’s back.
A lot of people don’t know this, but two years ago, I came very close to leaving Pittsburgh and all of my friends behind. I felt as if the world around me had come crashing down; that I had overstayed my welcome in this city, and that I needed to leave in order to be able to move on and recover. If I had done so, I might have managed to join up with another convention, might have made more friends, might have been in a completely different situation. But in truth, I knew deep in my heart that I wouldn’t. I would have left Pittsburgh and recommitted myself to my previous habit of isolation, of coming home night after night to an empty apartment, playing video games alone and never once reaching out to anyone again. After all, I’d been burned so badly once again; the experiment had ended in failure and disproven my tenuous hypothesis that I could be a social creature. Being miserable and alone would have appeared preferable to being happy with others, just long enough for them to leave.
I thought seriously about it. Of course, in the end, I decided to stay. And it has brought me pain nearly every day since then, as the circle of friends I had previously engaged with and found a place in continued to deteriorate. Some friends had their circumstances change; others deliberately cut others off; still others left Pittsburgh themselves. Through it all I tried to remain friends with as many of them as I could, fighting my instinct tooth and nail to keep sight of the fact that I didn’t have to run away again, that I still had people here who I cared about and who reciprocated that affection. Each day that passed when another friend dropped off the radar was another body-blow to that assertion.
It all came to a head about a month ago, when one individual tried to get me to reconnect with the convention organization. The management that had dismissed me was still in charge, and I harbored doubts that I would fare any better under them this time than I had when I still had goodwill and ambition for the convention. I attempted to make it clear that I didn’t want to be part of the organization again, but the end result was that the person who attempted to reach out to me got the wrong impression and, I think, took it personally. The dismissal had been a personal insult to me, but it was not that individual who had done so. Unfortunately, this misunderstanding culminated in a breakdown in communications today, and prompted both of us to mutually terminate relations. That person and I had almost never seen eye to eye, and so I’m sure that neither of us are too terribly broken up about it.
Afterwards, of course, I felt myself wondering what was keeping me in Pittsburgh. Obviously now there is a more urgent force keeping me here, specifically my continuing education, but there was still an extremely strong urge to consider disappearing again. It has been on my mind throughout 2014, especially considering that up until May I had no real attachments keeping me here. I could have left any time I wanted. I chose, however, to stay; to leverage the resources available here to bring myself closer to a greater amount of freedom if and when I choose to leave later on. That choice is still a few years off now, but it has been on my mind today.
My education plan includes, as a matter of necessity, an extended period of time spent overseas in order to more fully immerse myself in the language, culture, and idioms of Japan. I love travel, and it would be dishonest to say that I’m not looking forward to the trip. But the reason for the travel is not just for the educational opportunity it provides, and it is also not solely for the entertainment and excitement of international tourism. In a sense, crossing the Pacific Ocean is a real chance for a new start. I’ve said on more than one occasion that once I leave Pittsburgh, the odds are not good that I will return for very long, if at all; most of the work that I would be looking to do is centered on the West Coast, and if that doesn’t work out, I can freelance from pretty much anywhere on the planet. I wouldn’t mind an itinerant lifestyle.
Even with all of this on my mind, I have found myself not wanting to leave. I’m making new friends in my classes, socializing more and forging new connections once again. Each day that passes I find myself more and more unable to make the mental severance that I had throughout my time at Gannon: that the campus was merely a way-station, the origin point of my journey, but never more than first base. The Pitt campus feels more like a home that I will not want to leave. Though I’m only familiar with a few of its buildings right now, each day I learn more places that feel like they are mine now, that I belong here. I am only a visitor here, but I increasingly don’t want to leave.
Last week, I did something uncharacteristic: I went to a Pitt Panthers game. Well, half of one anyway; it was a blowout by the end of the first quarter, and I was in lousy seats in direct sunlight, so I left near the end of the half. Before the game started, though, the Alma Mater was sung, and I was struck by one of the lines in the song: “Over fate and foe victorious”. The past few years have been bad, for me, in the professional sphere and in my personal life. My health had a bad scare, and my mental health hit a breaking point. A lot has happened, enough so that the phrase does little to really encapsulate the breadth of the challenges. But you know what? I’m still here. It hasn’t been easy. It isn’t going to get any easier. But I am still here. I’m here, and there are still people here who want me here. I am where I belong, at least for now.
I can live with that.