What I learned at New York Comic Con.

I’ve fallen out of love with comics. No, wait. That’s not true. There are comics that I absolutely adore. How shall I put this? I’ve learned that comics are no longer special to me. I love comics like I love books and video games and television. The product? Yes, please. The culture surrounding the product? I just don’t care anymore.

Trust me, this is not one of those elitist posts where I tell you that I’ve matured beyond what pleases the geeks. I hate posts like that. I’m very much still a geek. Honestly? I’m a little saddened by the fact that I don’t care.

I truly have no one to blame but myself. I went out of my way to distance myself. I was deeply upset by recent whitewashing issues and I felt that if I wasn’t so invested in the characters I wouldn’t be as upset by it. And, lo and behold, I was right. I do smirk when I think about it now. Honestly, it is a wee bit funny when entertainment companies pull this kind of stuff—and they always do. Tell me you didn’t laugh when you saw the pictures of the original Avatar: The Last Airbender movie cast. And Misty’s decrease in melanin was simply the Marvel equivalent of Power Girl’s expanding breasts.

However, the whole thing snowballed somehow. I stopped buying the books and decided to read them casually. Then I stopped reading them casually and decided to keep up via Scans Daily. Then I stopped visiting Scans Daily and decided to simply check The Beat and Journalista.

And now here we are—at the point where I’ve skipped out on 75 percent of a convention that I paid fifty dollars to attend so that I can play Grand Theft Auto IV until two in the morning—a convention that I only went to in order to hang out with friends and see a Venture Bros. panel. This would have been insane behavior to me a year ago.

Long story short, I stopped caring so that I wouldn’t get hurt. It worked. It worked so well that I have no idea how to undo it. I’ve tried. I’d like to. I feel guilty about not caring. I feel like I’ve let people down. I should be posting. I should be blogging about the offensive mess that Avatar: The Last Airbender is bound to be. I’m not. I feel bad about that. And I’m not really sure what to do about it, but I did feel as if I owed the two or three people who still visit this site an explanation.

So here we are.