First of all, if you don't love Battlestar Galactica, that's OK, you might still get something out of this. But do me a favor and just stop right now and look it up, get a basic line on it. There's an old one ("original" and 35 years old) and a new one ("re-imagined" and 10 years old), and the old one had its charm and its issues, expensive and oddly compelling; both of them had the same (similar) great story - and the new one was one the best theater ever created, pretty much. It's certainly magnificent television.
I love the show, so much that I created a tarot-like "oracle" set of cards based on it. I did all the concepts, the images, and entire framework, and it came out pretty cool. I'd love to give readings more often but you basically have to be a Battlestar Galactica fan (and from here on out, that's BSG to you, though the actors say "Battlestar" for short; but I'm typing here and three letters work well) to really get the most from the cards, and while there are a lot of us running around - as you will see - it's not like I know a bunch of them. So I jumped at the chance to do some readings at the recent Galacticon 3 (G3, I guess?); I asked the organizers for a table. I would do the readings for FREE if they donated the table space; I would also buy a Gold Pass - that all-access ticket in the exclusive spirit (but not, as it would turn out, in fact) of the Colbert Platinum Membership. So that was a fair deal, and they went for it. I would be allowed to set my own hours.
This was exciting. I'd wanted to attend this Galacticon, but let's face it: I'm not the type of person to feel comfortable going through the trouble of attending a CON in Houston, of all places. I'm not a comics kind of girl. Sure, I love Jay and Silent Bob, but I don't know WHY, and it's a little uncharacteristic of me. I love Wolverine, but that's Hugh Jackman. I loved Star Wars and BSG but that was childhood wonder, a step up from Narnia. And I love Star Trek, because my partner really loves Star Trek, and it's grown on me, but I can also go without. The new BSG, I loved. Adored. Like it went straight to my heart; it really meant something to me. I'm not going to spend months creating divination cards based on a TV show unless it has epic, transcendent meaning, which it does.
Still, a Con is a Con, and one can feel a bit self-conscious. I have elements of geek behavior and emotions, but I am not one, and all geeks know it. So I thought, I'll go if I can do something additional, something extra, something special. I have a lot to do in my life, I need my life scenes to be like good Ron Moore scenes - they should do double or triple duty in advancing the plot and developing my character. I'm serious here: we are all the storytellers in our own lives (a theme that was prominent, as you'll see as well) and I want to write a kick-ass life. A best seller. Doesn't have to be popular, actually, but I would like to be critically acclaimed.
So I was thrilled to go on this adventure - I was off, solo, to the exotic and slightly dangerous land of Texas, to perform community-building rituals, playing the part of oracle, meeting actors I've loved, some from childhood....and who knows what else? I might meet people. Something new or interesting might happen; something unexpected. The unexpected in the vicinity of BSG actors and fans: this was right up my alley. I made some slight modifications to my BSG Oracle deck, got a few new sets printed, packed up my silk scarves and sandalwood beads and buddhas and flew to Houston.
It was hot and humid when I arrived - no surprise, but still, it's hard to prepare for it. My taxi driver was Eritrean, and was pleased that I'd heard of it, because I knew about Eritrean food - the sour sponge bread you use to scoop up stews. He told me about Houston's sports teams by way of showing friendliness, which doesn't work well as I know nothing about sports.
I arrived just in time to register and make the line at 5:30 for the Opening Ceremony. Registration was a bit scattered but I assumed there'd be more info later - we had four days of events in front of us! It would all be made clear. I unpacked. I tried to get information about my booth, which was useless as no one seemed to know much - this was organized in conjunction with Comicpalooza, and they had my table info; I wasn't worried, my set up was light.
I met a nice gentleman in line; it wasn't so hard to be chatty with strangers, meet someone new, we had a common bond. He turned out to be a Lutheran pastor, a huge BSG fan. He recognized the genuine prop bracelet I was wearing and - this is freaky - knew the episode it was from. I only know because I bought it - yes, I shelled out for a prop, figuring for magic work, having a talisman that picked up energies from the set couldn't be a bad thing, right? But I felt outclassed - was everyone going to put me, the Oracle, to shame with their extensive knowledge? I sometimes get Boomer and Athena mixed up, and can't explain what Starbuck turned out to be - did I belong here? I saw people walking around in Colonial uniforms, old and new, and Cylons - talk about costume commitment.
There was a hum, an excitement in the air. A woman who looked freakishly like the Mary McDonnell character was there, dressed as President Laura Roslyn and instantly recognizable, especially considering her "costume" was a pants suit. Lots of people had BSG tattoos, and I started to doubt myself. The room for the opening ceremony was not ready, we were told to come back at 7pm. It hadn't started and we were already running late; celebrities, we all thought, run late.
I took a quick walk to the nearby natural foods store (ho-hum) and CVS to get supplies, sweating profusely in the humid dusk as the downtown emptied out. I made it back just in time. Only 250 "gold" members, but lots of silver - the rest of the common folk were not allowed. There were hundreds of us - who were these people? We were ushered - escorted, they were very clear we were NOT allowed in on our own - into this perfectly enormous hall. This was a convention center (big) in Texas (where everything is bigger) - at one point a truck, half the size of a semi, drove through and it was barely noticeable. The acoustics were poor but who cared because there, in front of the platform, was Richard Hatch. Richard Hatch! Apollo in the original series, Tom Zarek in the re-imagined (and the only actor to be in both), there he was, in the flesh. It was like looking at my childhood AND my adultery at the same time.
He started to MC, without a mike - hi everyone, so glad you're here... He warmed up the crowd by offering to thumb wrestle anyone, he was a champ and so bring on the challenge; Richard, you may as well know now, remains undefeated. Still, it was all just beginning and we watched him wipe the floor with a couple guys, a gal and a kid - his thumb technique was excellent, and his attitude charming and fun and....young? He seemed young. He's 68, and he was more supple and bouncy than I am! Everyone was younger than they were; the 84 year old Terry Carter, the original Colonel Tigh, was the eldest, and even he was supple and present.
One great moment, as the actors and special guests - like the sexy-haired Bear McCreary, the man responsible for the BSG music - assembled on stage, was when the new Tigh, the great Michael Hogan, appeared, a little later than everyone else, right when the Terry was introducing himself. Suddenly, there were the Tighs: remarkably consistent from show to show, together on stage for the first time, Hogan obligingly but naturally saying, "I'm here, godsdammit!"
I won't go into each special moment, because there's a lot to tell, but so much was noteable. All of the "stars" saying how glad they were to be here, now let's party! Let the festivities begin. We love the show just as much as you do, let's celebrate it, and us!
This was the most unexpected part of the evening, and indeed this was the beginning of what would be the overarching theme: community. I was under the impression that I would be lucky if I could get a few moments of personal time with some of the actors; I'd been to other Cons, professional ones - the giant Star Trek Creation Con in Las Vegas lept to mind; it was run like a Swiss train station and consequently, all encounters were carefully orchestrated (and usually had a price). But these actors seemed to have a different notion of what we were all there for.
Edward James Olmos - the Old Man, one of the main reasons I made the trek to Houston, because the old man's gravitas drew me in, as Adama or as EJO - took the mic and set the tone. He talked about how this was important. Had we seen the videos about Battlestar Galactica at the U.N.? (Had I? My "So Say We All" oracle card was a picture of EJO and Mary McDonnell at the UN: it's the "manifest your fantasy/stories and bring them into reality" card). Did we know how epic this story was? We did. We cheered what EJO had to say.
This show, he said, was more than television. It was beauty and truth and hope, and they (the actors) were all proud to be here, happy to be here, and in fact, they were here due to us, the fans, who had given so much love to show, to them. We wanted them to be here, and so here they all were. EJO spoke of how Richard - who has been throwing Cons and BSG cruises for the last couple decades before the re-boot, keeping BSG alive practically single-handedly - invited him originally to his first Con. "I don't know," EJO balked, skeptical. "One of those things...." Who can blame him? I thought the same thing.
It's not what you think, Richard insisted. It's all about love, you'll see. You'll love it, it's a great time (and yes, no one had to say, you make money too). So EJO, uncertain but open, went. He loved it. He called everyone else, said, you gotta come. "It's going to be a love fest, this weekend," EJO told us. I couldn't quite see how it could be a love fest, exactly. Sure, I felt some community at the other (few) Cons I'd been to (as they say, beetles fancy other beetles), but love fest? But that's what EJO said, and the whole thing about me in relation to him is that I basically believe anything Edward James Olmos OR Adama say to me. So I had to accept this might be a love fest.
Suddenly the thoughts came: Where was I? Who were these people? Why was I here, again? Should I have come, all alone? Would I meet people? Would people want my readings? Would they go well? Would I conduct myself with dignity and compassion? Would I stumble? Above all, would I make connections? Would I connect, that was the central question. What was going to happen? I didn't know, but as Eddie spoke, as he spoke of love and community and gratitude - all of us grateful, to each other and in service to this story that goes so deep - I began to feel that I was already there; it was happening. EJO led us in a rousing chorus, a few call and responses of "So Say We All," and the power in the room was palatable. My God, can the old man bring to life a crowd; it was all there there. We were alive, united, and our story was changing the world.
Incredibly, there's more to the first day, but it's a whole other subject, so I'll leave you here, picturing the Old Man rousing the people, all of us primed to dwell in possibility and community for a few days, and me, feeling: love fest? Maybe I am in the right place at the right time, after all.
I love the show, so much that I created a tarot-like "oracle" set of cards based on it. I did all the concepts, the images, and entire framework, and it came out pretty cool. I'd love to give readings more often but you basically have to be a Battlestar Galactica fan (and from here on out, that's BSG to you, though the actors say "Battlestar" for short; but I'm typing here and three letters work well) to really get the most from the cards, and while there are a lot of us running around - as you will see - it's not like I know a bunch of them. So I jumped at the chance to do some readings at the recent Galacticon 3 (G3, I guess?); I asked the organizers for a table. I would do the readings for FREE if they donated the table space; I would also buy a Gold Pass - that all-access ticket in the exclusive spirit (but not, as it would turn out, in fact) of the Colbert Platinum Membership. So that was a fair deal, and they went for it. I would be allowed to set my own hours.
This was exciting. I'd wanted to attend this Galacticon, but let's face it: I'm not the type of person to feel comfortable going through the trouble of attending a CON in Houston, of all places. I'm not a comics kind of girl. Sure, I love Jay and Silent Bob, but I don't know WHY, and it's a little uncharacteristic of me. I love Wolverine, but that's Hugh Jackman. I loved Star Wars and BSG but that was childhood wonder, a step up from Narnia. And I love Star Trek, because my partner really loves Star Trek, and it's grown on me, but I can also go without. The new BSG, I loved. Adored. Like it went straight to my heart; it really meant something to me. I'm not going to spend months creating divination cards based on a TV show unless it has epic, transcendent meaning, which it does.
Still, a Con is a Con, and one can feel a bit self-conscious. I have elements of geek behavior and emotions, but I am not one, and all geeks know it. So I thought, I'll go if I can do something additional, something extra, something special. I have a lot to do in my life, I need my life scenes to be like good Ron Moore scenes - they should do double or triple duty in advancing the plot and developing my character. I'm serious here: we are all the storytellers in our own lives (a theme that was prominent, as you'll see as well) and I want to write a kick-ass life. A best seller. Doesn't have to be popular, actually, but I would like to be critically acclaimed.
So I was thrilled to go on this adventure - I was off, solo, to the exotic and slightly dangerous land of Texas, to perform community-building rituals, playing the part of oracle, meeting actors I've loved, some from childhood....and who knows what else? I might meet people. Something new or interesting might happen; something unexpected. The unexpected in the vicinity of BSG actors and fans: this was right up my alley. I made some slight modifications to my BSG Oracle deck, got a few new sets printed, packed up my silk scarves and sandalwood beads and buddhas and flew to Houston.
It was hot and humid when I arrived - no surprise, but still, it's hard to prepare for it. My taxi driver was Eritrean, and was pleased that I'd heard of it, because I knew about Eritrean food - the sour sponge bread you use to scoop up stews. He told me about Houston's sports teams by way of showing friendliness, which doesn't work well as I know nothing about sports.
I arrived just in time to register and make the line at 5:30 for the Opening Ceremony. Registration was a bit scattered but I assumed there'd be more info later - we had four days of events in front of us! It would all be made clear. I unpacked. I tried to get information about my booth, which was useless as no one seemed to know much - this was organized in conjunction with Comicpalooza, and they had my table info; I wasn't worried, my set up was light.
I met a nice gentleman in line; it wasn't so hard to be chatty with strangers, meet someone new, we had a common bond. He turned out to be a Lutheran pastor, a huge BSG fan. He recognized the genuine prop bracelet I was wearing and - this is freaky - knew the episode it was from. I only know because I bought it - yes, I shelled out for a prop, figuring for magic work, having a talisman that picked up energies from the set couldn't be a bad thing, right? But I felt outclassed - was everyone going to put me, the Oracle, to shame with their extensive knowledge? I sometimes get Boomer and Athena mixed up, and can't explain what Starbuck turned out to be - did I belong here? I saw people walking around in Colonial uniforms, old and new, and Cylons - talk about costume commitment.
There was a hum, an excitement in the air. A woman who looked freakishly like the Mary McDonnell character was there, dressed as President Laura Roslyn and instantly recognizable, especially considering her "costume" was a pants suit. Lots of people had BSG tattoos, and I started to doubt myself. The room for the opening ceremony was not ready, we were told to come back at 7pm. It hadn't started and we were already running late; celebrities, we all thought, run late.
I took a quick walk to the nearby natural foods store (ho-hum) and CVS to get supplies, sweating profusely in the humid dusk as the downtown emptied out. I made it back just in time. Only 250 "gold" members, but lots of silver - the rest of the common folk were not allowed. There were hundreds of us - who were these people? We were ushered - escorted, they were very clear we were NOT allowed in on our own - into this perfectly enormous hall. This was a convention center (big) in Texas (where everything is bigger) - at one point a truck, half the size of a semi, drove through and it was barely noticeable. The acoustics were poor but who cared because there, in front of the platform, was Richard Hatch. Richard Hatch! Apollo in the original series, Tom Zarek in the re-imagined (and the only actor to be in both), there he was, in the flesh. It was like looking at my childhood AND my adultery at the same time.
He started to MC, without a mike - hi everyone, so glad you're here... He warmed up the crowd by offering to thumb wrestle anyone, he was a champ and so bring on the challenge; Richard, you may as well know now, remains undefeated. Still, it was all just beginning and we watched him wipe the floor with a couple guys, a gal and a kid - his thumb technique was excellent, and his attitude charming and fun and....young? He seemed young. He's 68, and he was more supple and bouncy than I am! Everyone was younger than they were; the 84 year old Terry Carter, the original Colonel Tigh, was the eldest, and even he was supple and present.
One great moment, as the actors and special guests - like the sexy-haired Bear McCreary, the man responsible for the BSG music - assembled on stage, was when the new Tigh, the great Michael Hogan, appeared, a little later than everyone else, right when the Terry was introducing himself. Suddenly, there were the Tighs: remarkably consistent from show to show, together on stage for the first time, Hogan obligingly but naturally saying, "I'm here, godsdammit!"
I won't go into each special moment, because there's a lot to tell, but so much was noteable. All of the "stars" saying how glad they were to be here, now let's party! Let the festivities begin. We love the show just as much as you do, let's celebrate it, and us!
This was the most unexpected part of the evening, and indeed this was the beginning of what would be the overarching theme: community. I was under the impression that I would be lucky if I could get a few moments of personal time with some of the actors; I'd been to other Cons, professional ones - the giant Star Trek Creation Con in Las Vegas lept to mind; it was run like a Swiss train station and consequently, all encounters were carefully orchestrated (and usually had a price). But these actors seemed to have a different notion of what we were all there for.
Edward James Olmos - the Old Man, one of the main reasons I made the trek to Houston, because the old man's gravitas drew me in, as Adama or as EJO - took the mic and set the tone. He talked about how this was important. Had we seen the videos about Battlestar Galactica at the U.N.? (Had I? My "So Say We All" oracle card was a picture of EJO and Mary McDonnell at the UN: it's the "manifest your fantasy/stories and bring them into reality" card). Did we know how epic this story was? We did. We cheered what EJO had to say.
This show, he said, was more than television. It was beauty and truth and hope, and they (the actors) were all proud to be here, happy to be here, and in fact, they were here due to us, the fans, who had given so much love to show, to them. We wanted them to be here, and so here they all were. EJO spoke of how Richard - who has been throwing Cons and BSG cruises for the last couple decades before the re-boot, keeping BSG alive practically single-handedly - invited him originally to his first Con. "I don't know," EJO balked, skeptical. "One of those things...." Who can blame him? I thought the same thing.
It's not what you think, Richard insisted. It's all about love, you'll see. You'll love it, it's a great time (and yes, no one had to say, you make money too). So EJO, uncertain but open, went. He loved it. He called everyone else, said, you gotta come. "It's going to be a love fest, this weekend," EJO told us. I couldn't quite see how it could be a love fest, exactly. Sure, I felt some community at the other (few) Cons I'd been to (as they say, beetles fancy other beetles), but love fest? But that's what EJO said, and the whole thing about me in relation to him is that I basically believe anything Edward James Olmos OR Adama say to me. So I had to accept this might be a love fest.
Suddenly the thoughts came: Where was I? Who were these people? Why was I here, again? Should I have come, all alone? Would I meet people? Would people want my readings? Would they go well? Would I conduct myself with dignity and compassion? Would I stumble? Above all, would I make connections? Would I connect, that was the central question. What was going to happen? I didn't know, but as Eddie spoke, as he spoke of love and community and gratitude - all of us grateful, to each other and in service to this story that goes so deep - I began to feel that I was already there; it was happening. EJO led us in a rousing chorus, a few call and responses of "So Say We All," and the power in the room was palatable. My God, can the old man bring to life a crowd; it was all there there. We were alive, united, and our story was changing the world.
Incredibly, there's more to the first day, but it's a whole other subject, so I'll leave you here, picturing the Old Man rousing the people, all of us primed to dwell in possibility and community for a few days, and me, feeling: love fest? Maybe I am in the right place at the right time, after all.
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