I Wish I Were At Comic-Con

Angelina! The Avengers! A guy getting stabbed in the eye! (okay, so he was scratched. Still, stabbed sounded soo much cooler.)

Comic-Con, how I wish I could experience thee first-hand. Being trapped in my little pocket of cashless monotony, I've always found the idea of an event that gears Hollywood up like no other- save, of course, the Oscars- to be infinitely appealing. As anyone who's spoken to me for more than five minutes can attest, I'm an utter geek at heart, and the idea of getting close to Messrs. Whedon, Abrams, Kosinski, Smith, et al, is just pant-wettingly good.

As it is, I, like many around this globe of ours, will have to contend myself with RSS feeds, blog posts, and that most delicate of all evils, the Twitter update. I had never had a Twitter account until three days ago. I'm a little ashamed to say that I have one now, largely for following 'Con feeds. I have promised myself no to get too addicted to using it, though the intrigue of getting inside celebrity heads is a powerful lure.

I have tried my damnedest to avoid the lure of the Twitter song, I really have. Largely because I've never felt that I can say anything relevant in 140 characters, but also, the seeming hipness that comes with any new piece of social technology has always left me wary. Dare I become one of the masses who find themselves checking everything said and uttered by their fave stars? By their friends? I'm addicted enough to Facebook for this reason, I don't need to exacerbate the situation.

And yet... Kevin Smith tweets. So does Simon Pegg. So, too, Jon Favreau, Stephen Fry, Penn Jillette... holy crap. I've got a direct line to some of my idols. This can not be a good thing.

I've signed up. And, within ten minutes, I'm following the tweets of 80 people and organisations I admire. I havn't even got to my friends yet. Suddenly, I'm rather interested in what everyone thinks. I couldn't give a damn about getting my own opinion out there (that's what this blog is for), but I can't help but be curious about those around me. And, just like that, I confess myself hooked.

God help me if this becomes addictive.
And this could've all been avoided if only I could get to Comic-Con...

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