“Legends begin in this manner” is something I’ve been known to say — shortly after waking up, when cracking open a can of some high-potency energy drink — in reference to the uncertain adventures that are about to ensure. I often enter such days with no real plan, just a taste for the extra-ordinary and a willingness to take risks to make it happen.
The older I get, the more of my long-time friends settle down into mundane existences. Careers, mortgages, and spouses all impede the freedoms that once characterized their very existence.
I’ve always had a hard time understanding why people willingly abandon fun lifestyles in favor of stressful ones. My hobbies solicit eye-rolls and are called juvenile by the “responsible adult” types, but I beg to ask: exactly when do such things stop being fun?
My hobbies include — but are not limited to — Airsoft, Cosplay, Inline Skating, Urban Exploration, and Video Gaming. These are all perfectly acceptable hobbies for a teenager or young adult, but seem to not be — inexplicably — for anyone older than about 35. At what point do these activities cease being fun? Do people quit doing such things because they no longer enjoy them, or because they are expected to? How many people instinctively, and without really even noticing, allow societal norms to influence their behaviors, instead of just living their lives the way they want to?
Fuck that. I know what’s fun, I know what I enjoy doing, and I’m sure as hell not going to stop just because other people succumb to the peer pressure to become working stiffs, root themselves, and grow miserable. I’ve seen far, far too many people create prisons for themselves. Many of the same people who question my sanity envy my freedom.
But I have found a group of people who share my ideals… people who know what they enjoy, do what they enjoy, and are not concerned with the opinions of others. A world-wide fellowship of the most friendly, fun-loving, imaginative, creative, and awesome people. Today, I’m announcing the next chapter of my unrepentant, adventurist, no-brakes life: I’m jumping head-first and diving deep into the Furry Fandom.
It’s hard to say exactly where and when this started, but I can tell you exactly where and when I decided to join. It was in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania, on Saturday, July 1, 2017, at 4:00pm. I was at my first Furry Convention, Anthrocon, and was half-way through Dr. Courtney “Nuka” Plante’s Psychology panel. I was looking for confirmation of what I already knew, and it was found. It was at this corner of time and space I learned that I met all the criteria of Furry Fandom, and I never looked back.
Now — less than 2 years later — I’ve fully embraced the digital nomad lifestyle, visited 22 countries (and counting), and actively seek out the local Furry communities in each city I visit. Everywhere I go I’m embraced by hugs, warmed by smiles, and entertained with offers of places to stay and things to do. This is like a fraternity, like a family… a family of people, spanning every tiny city across the world, who all share so much in common.
This announcement was held off until now only because I have been working so hard, and with so many talented artists and consultants, to decide upon the many details of my Fursona: the fictionalized, idealized version of myself, that I chose to represent me in this wonderful fantasy world I have chosen to live in.
Spreadsheets were compiled, encyclopedias were referenced, books were read. The verdict is in: I am Friendly Psychobatic.
I am uncertain of what lies ahead. I have no real plan, only a taste for the extra-ordinary and the willingness to take risks to make it happen.
Legends begin in this manner.
Confessions of a Psycho Bat 