I’m a geek, and I embrace this title. I cherish the idea that not only is okay to be smart and devoted to being the outliers of our social bubble, it is something to be PROUD of.

I’m not a hardcore geek. I am far from being a Geek God, as my husband is. (This ranking comes courtesy of http://www.innergeek.us/geek.html, the first version of which we both helped to draft, among our close circle of geeks and wannabes.)

My personal rank is Total Geek. I’m hoping to move up the chain of commands in geeks by attending my first San Diego Comic Con in 2010. I’m sure a few more boxes will be checked off once I attend - for example, I picked up a Star Trek dress to wear… But despite my somewhat lower status on the geek totem pole, I’m a hard-core lover of all things geek.

I can’t wait to have light shine on me from polite smiles to a crowd by some of my favorite stars. I can’t wait to basque in the glow of my husband basquing in the glow of Felicia Day. (My glow will be bright; his will be effervescent.) I look forward to watching, mouth agape, the wondrous parade at the Masquerade.

The idea of the overwhelming number of exhibits and booths for me to explore boggles my mind. And I can’t wait to have my breath catch at that perfect symbol of my time spent celebrating geekery. Will I find a new comic that draws me in? Will I find a Magic Card to add to my pitiful collection? Will I find a signed copy of something by Gaiman, Carroll (Lewis or Jonathan), or Card?

I will be tired. You might find me curled up against a wall, a book in hand, eyes shut even though the pages are open. You might find me limping along because the boots (I have yet to find) for that Star Trek dress weren’t broken in enough before the 7 block walk to the convention center from our hotel room. But then again, you might find me bouncing in line to be let into a seminar, high on Bawls if I can find a vendor selling it.

No matter what, you’ll be able to find me. I’ll be the redhead in the figurative corner, people watching, wishing I could wiggle out of the straight jacket created by years of trying to hide my geekdom.

But this year, I’ll be making more of a tear in that restraint than ever before, and I can’t wait.

Even if I’m not the newbie for you, please include one of us in your documentary. We’re part of the crowd, too, and Comic Con is just as exciting for us.

Thank you,

Brianna Cole
aka HippieLunatic

If you are interested in trying to get your own spotlight, send comiccondoc *at* gmail.com a note… Check out http://comic-con.morganspurlock.com/ for a little more info.

The Ghost in Love makes me want to track down Jonathan Carroll and hug him. (The Land of Laughs made me want to hug him, but this novel takes it up a notch.)

This is the story of Ben, his former girlfriend - German, his ghost - Ling, and his dog - Pilot. To say the least, it is a complex tale of how the four of them interact with the rest of society, the world at large, each other, and themselves. This novel explores many aspects of the self and the amount of power an individual has over the course of his life.

Perhaps the strongest compliment I can give to the beauty of this work is that I did not want to finish it. I got to the final chapter, and I was so in love with the characters, the depth of the themes, the lyrics of the prose, that I could not fathom how it was going to end, and I didn’t want it to. Much like in the midst of new relationship energy, you can’t imagine any way that a partnership will falter, and you want to grab on tightly to any piece of the beauty you are enveloped in, I wanted to hold on to this story, never see it end, but allow my heart to play the “what if” game over and over, following multiple paths the story might take, where certain decisions might lead.

So, I put it down. I waited a few hours. And then I had to pick it back up, as I didn’t want to be separated from it any longer.

The final chapter was a thing of beauty, if a bit too blatant in a few moments for my personal taste. I felt as though Carroll was hitting the reader on the head (gently, not wanting to hurt you) with his mantra. And while I appreciated it once, maybe even twice, I did get to a point where I wanted to hug the man a bit more tightly just to get him to shut up. I loved the message, but I also appreciate subtlety.

Overall, The Ghost in Love is a masterpiece of the exploration of taking charge of one’s self and destiny. The faults are part of the whole, make the whole more stunning, and should not be viewed as a weakness of the piece… as that would mean I took nothing from the work at all.