I meant to post last week on my Find of the Century; I was so damn excited over it. Then, I got busy, what with travelling to Chicago this past weekend, and I figured I would post this week after I had some good news.
Turns out I don't have such good news after all.
I did not get a ticket for SDCC '12.
I did everything right, followed all their instructions, got into line . . . and when there were still 5,000 people ahead of me, the show sold out. I am trying not to feel completely devastated, but I'm not going to lie: I have cried about this several times.
For the non-geeks reading this, you probably think I'm being silly and overdramatic. "It's just some convention! Get over it! There are children starving in Africa!" Yes, that is true. But, I wasn't looking at this as "just some convention". I wasn't planning to go and buy comics and wait in line to have some celebrity sign some over-priced publicity shot. I wasn't going so I could spend too much on the latest "Ironman battles the Anonymous Villain" statue. I was going so I could make a kickass costume and network the shit out of the place.
Since I've been here, I've had zero opportunities to network with film costumers. Maybe if I had more time I could have created more opportunities, but I've been working with what I have, which isn't much. When the Costume College scholarship didn't happen, I gave up on that opportunity, and put all my eggs in one basket. I really was hinging a lot of hope on making it there this year and handing out cards, schmoozing, doing everything I can to see and be seen and hopefully meet one or two people who do what I do, or know someone who does. It would have been work, but the kind of work that forces you to have a blast too. And, naturally, I would have seen lots of cool shit and celebrities, and all that.
I'm crushed. After my unexpected trip to Michael Levine's the week before, where I found the exact Effie fabric and made a squealing sound not unlike a squirrel in distress, I thought it was some kind of sign. I am dumb enough to still believe in those sorts of things. Like, "I found THE FABRIC. That must mean I'm going to be going to Comic-con, right?" Instead, I am out $65, and I can barely stand looking at it. Every time I see a billboard for "The Hunger Games", it feels like a needle jabbing me.
No, I will not still make this costume. $65 was the tip of the iceberg, with much more still to come for shoes, wig, accessories, etc. I cannot justify spending several hundred dollars on something for Halloween, where some drunk guy will tell me I look cool and then vomit on me.
I will try again next year. It's just hard not to feel like I keep getting kicked in the face over my dreams.