I’m terrified.

In the distance, just as the view starts to fade into a picturesque haze, the sun descends behind a veil of clouds. The slow, gentle lap of the waves creates a constant and calming crash which serves as a suitable background to the distant sound of playing children, jubilant conversation, and the general goings on of life on the coast.

And here I am standing here terrified.

I steel my jaw slightly, bow my head, and break through my paralysis to step forward. Leaving my flip flops and the rest of the world behind, I walk up to the water’s edge taking even breaths to keep my nerves as calm as they were going to be.

The water’s probably cold. It could have been set to a boil and it wouldn’t have made a difference. I was going to do this.

—

My trip to California, to BlizzCon, has proved to be more of an experience than I anticipated or theorized. I don’t know. As someone who is almost constantly analyzing and considering the meaning of things, I’m not surprised to feel overwhelmed and still unsure to an extent of what emotional conclusions I’ve taken away from the experience. I simply know that I learned more about myself, and found more confidence in the idea of being open with people; more vulnerable.

And that’s pretty neat.

Like my brain, I’m probably just going to write things in something of a scattered matter as they present themselves. It would feel inorganic at this point to try and write things in any sort of chronological sense. So if anyone does read this, sorry for the potential confusion. I’m weird. Sorry that I’m not sorry. Fun fact, though. At the beginning of the year I would have been sorry. Now I’m getting to like that I’m weird.

—

Nervously, I step forward a few more times, feeling the sand shift and bow under my weight. I’m far enough in now that the tide was guaranteed to find me. I had refused to turn back now. It felt like an eternity, watching the water’s edge pitch forward slightly, recede, and threaten to shift closer. It was as though the universe itself was asking, “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“I don’t know, but I aim to find out.”

Then the water rushed forward, and I was ankle deep in the Pacific Ocean.

—
I’ve been casting Heroes of the Storm for a little while now, and I also stream myeslf playing the game and other things on occasion. I do not feel like I am famous or a celebrity or anything like that. I knew a few people were looking forward to meeting me at BlizzCon. It might have surprised them to learn I was looking forward to meeting them more than they probably were me.

But each person I met, however brief the encounter was, touched me in some way.

It reminded me of the fact that I’ve really put myself out there since I’ve started casting. In my own way, I let my guard down and displayed who I am as a person; for better or worse. And people along the way have seemed to like what they’ve seen. It reminded me that they were people, too. We were all people. That I was a person.

It’s hard to rightly explain, but I felt like I was a part of something; like I belonged somewhere. As someone who’s rarely ever felt that way, being given a gift of that magnitude is a gesture I will eternally be thankful for.

I can’t speak for how anyone felt on the other end, but I wanted to at least try to write down what I took away from certain instances.
I went to a party Friday night. Well, two. At the first of which I happened across a group of four. I recognized one and was happy to meet the others. As it turned out, I had casted them in Chair League! We talked about their games and their overall experience, but something that stood out to me is that they said they appreciated how I approached casting.

It was the first time I had really felt my efforts really had an impact on people’s experience on what seemed to me like a personal level. And it blew me away.

People compliment my casting often enough, and I’m thankful for every kind word. But that conversation made me feel…

It’s one thing to finish a night of casting, have people say thanks in chat or message me to say that they had fun or thought I was funny or appreciated something about my effort, stop the stream, put everything away, and sit alone in my apartment feeling a curious mix of energy and exhaustion. It’s another thing to look someone in the eye, see the smile on their face, hear the sincerity in their words, and join them in laughter over your efforts.

The former brings a sense of uncertainty to me. The latter is a much more human experience.

The coolest thing about meeting them was that they seemed to genuinely like me as a person and wanted to befriend me. As crazy as the idea is that people wanted to meet me was, I had braced for the feeling that I was a pokemon, or item on a scavenger hunt. “I met Halorin. Who’s next?”

I don’t think I’m explaining it right, but I had anticipated a potential hollow feeling on some meetings like people wanted to meet Halorin, but not necessarily meet Albert. Like I was just a form of entertainment, and not a full on person.

I’m happy to say that no one made me feel that way, but meeting this group of four really brought home the idea that I was a part of a community; one that was genuinely interested in meeting me. It was very heartwarming. I hope I get to meet them again, and I hope I get to continue to be friends with them.

I met a person that I did not know very well. I was mingling with a group of people and I get a tap on the shoulder. This smiling face greets me and they told me who they were and that they were excited to meet me.

There was something special about meeting this person. Again, it’s difficult for me to explain. It is a vulnerable gesture to walk up to someone you’ve never met, someone you’re excited to meet, and put yourself out there. This person had displayed an admirable amount of courage without even outwardly expressing it, because they were just happy to be there in the moment.

It felt like it was something they were really looking forward to, and I didn’t have any idea until the moment they walked up and introduced themselves.

In general, I’ve downplayed whatever sense of importance I have to the Heroes of the Storm community. I’m generally a humble person, but a lot of it amounts to self deprecation. I don’t have a very high opinion of myself, so when someone expresses their opinion of me it feels like a sense of contrast to the point it’s almost hard to believe or like I’m being put on. I only half accept the compliment or acknowledgement, because it would be embarrassing to embrace it fully and have it snatched away. I stay guarded. Shut off. Withdrawn.
And I don’t want to be like that anymore.

I don’t want an ego, or to be arrogant, but I do want to respect and appreciate the kind words given to me. Meeting this person really taught me about expressing myself and sharing in the excitement of others. Seeing that I’ve resonated with someone that they would be excited to bump into me was inspiring, humbling, and amazing. Again, I can’t speak for what the exchange may have meant to them.

But it meant a Hell of a lot to me.

I struggle with putting myself out there, and with going for things I want. It’s scary to me. What if I make an ass of myself? What if people laugh at me? What if I fail? Those kinds of thoughts have stamped out a lot of ambition over the course of my life, but since the start of this blog I’ve been trying to rebel against them.

It probably sounds really cheesy or dumb to have wanted to make a sign that said ‘halSanic’ and get it shown on the screen during the Heroes Global Championship. I mean, it is pretty cheesy. But that was almost the point for me.

It was me leaving my stamp on something that’s come to mean a lot to me. Before, I wouldn’t have valued myself enough to act on what would have been a hidden and buried desire to leave my mark on something I cared about. But I had to try. I just had to.

It felt a little bad to fail on the first day. I was timid about the idea of going for it again. It was a victory in and of itself to try at all, so it almost felt like a game show-like thing of ‘Take the $1000 cash prize or play for $10,000 and potentially come away with nothing’.

With a sigh, I made the sign again the second day, prepared to come away with nothing. I made my way up to the front with my friends and got so swept up in the excitement that I had all in all forgotten about my apprehension. I was just there in the moment, screaming my friggin’ head off when the camera man sweeps by and bam. I did it!

I got a bunch of messages from people. They all saw it too! Some who knew I was going for that, and some who didn’t. I don’t know. There was just something about being able to pull that off, to show what felt like to me the entire world that I was able to break free from the shackles of my mind for just a while; long enough to scream and cheer like a kid and just have a good time. To show something like that to myself. I honestly didn’t know if I had it in me anymore.

I try to avoid naming specific people when I write in my blog, but in this case it would be pretty apparent who it was or would give the required context for someone who didn’t.

There’s a player on a European team named Quackniix. I’ve followed his play for a long time, and have come to really respect it. I’ve seen him make plays on Lunara and other heroes, and I always send tweets at him with gifs or videos or something to kinda cheer him on and overall just be a fanboy of a sort. It always surprises me whenever he likes them.

I even got to meet him briefly! His team was walking by on the BlizzCon floor and I dared to ask for a picture with him. It was a really cool moment. He didn’t have to, but he did.

Something I always thought would be cool would be if the crowd at an event quacked for him in the same way people quacked for the Mighty Ducks. Again, silly, but something I wanted to do. This is another thing that would usually be suppressed in my mind. Who am I to do something like that? What if I start quacking and no one joins me and I’m just some lone jackass standing there? I’d be mortified. But these days I am more afraid of what becomes of me if I don’t go after things.

So at the event I get the nerve to try it. I ask around if people would join me if I started to quack. Surprisingly (to me, anyway), everyone I spoke to was on board with the idea. Complete strangers. Folks sitting with me. This might actually happen.

My hands were flat out shaking when I was getting ready to do it. It’s a pretty big leap for me, putting myself out there like that. But I wanted to try. Not just for me, but for Quackniix and Team FNatic.
The performance these guys put on was nothing short of inspiring. Watching these guys play their hearts out and go for these bold plays and beating MVP Black was like nothing I’ve ever seen before. Most people had resigned to the idea that MVP Black would be FNatic.

I can only imagine the turmoil of emotions one would feel to step onto a stage where the expectations are that low and the odds seem stacked against you. To dig deep enough to stare that in the face, tell it to shut up, and go out there and play at the level they did is something I will always respect.

Their play was by no means timid. They made gutsy calls. They took chances. They were not intimidated. Or scared. Or if they were, they showed enough courageousness to overcome that play out of their minds.

It gave me a message that if you believe in yourself and practice hard enough, anything was possible. What I felt watching them play must have been what kids felt when they watched Babe Ruth, or seeing Michael Jordan win his first championship. Displaying enough vulnerability to give something 100% of your effort, and coming out victorious only because of that.

So the few times I was able to get the crowd to join me in quacking for Quackniix meant a lot on a number of levels. I put myself out there. I felt connected with people. And I felt like I was showing appreciation for someone I greatly respected.

We all cheered loud enough to be heard on the stream, and people messaged me to confirm that and I couldn’t have been happier.
I hope I get to meet Quackniix again someday. I’d like to shake his hand.

—

The cold of the Pacific was sharp, and immediately apparent. By the time the second swell rushed in and splashed against my knees I had already tuned out the chill, embraced it, and became one with it. I was there, and I wasn’t at the same time.

In my own way, I had been through a lot on the way to that moment. I learned a lot about friendship, bonding, connecting with people, putting yourself out there, humility, and acting on goals and wishes.
I thought about the new friends I made, and the stronger bonds I’d formed. I thought about how for the longest time I had never thought I’d go to the west coast. Or see the Pacific Ocean. Or venture far from home. I was so confident in my inability back then. So assured in the idea that I should just develop a sense of disdain for things like this because I couldn’t have them. I didn’t deserve them. I would fall on my face if I tried, and I’d be laughed at for thinking I could.

Standing there at the ocean’s edge and seeing the infinity on the horizon flew in the face of every preconceived notion depression has settled into my head for most of my adult life. I was there. I had friends I cared about, and they cared about me. I could do the things I wanted. I could accomplish them.

And I cried.

Even thinking about it now makes my eyes water. The moment was the culmination of a lot of emotion that overwhelmed me and probably will always overwhelm me. In the span of a year I had stood on either end of the country, went on a road trip, started casting, and made step toward being more open and vulnerable.

I thought on what exactly brought me to tears for a while after that moment. I’m still trying to piece it together. The closest summation I can come to is that it was in part acknowledgement of the emotional pain I’ve subjected myself to by being closed off and not trying for things over the couse of my life and in part the acknowledgement of the victory I had just attained over said pain.

None of this has been easy for me. None of it. Struggling with a constantly nagging notion that beats you down can be exhausting. Always doubting yourself, your potential, and your capability. To want to guard yourself rather than take a chance and be open. I hate it so much.

But I stuck a middle finger up right in its face by relishing in the experiences I did at BlizzCon. By meeting the people I did, and by bonding with the people I did.

I did it. I was doing it. And it was a lot to take in.

Everyone I met and everything I did touched me in some way. I come away from the experience feeling more like a human being and more like I belong somewhere. I come away feeling like I can laugh a little easier, like I can be myself a little easier, and like I can smile a little easier.

Some emotional doors opened for me over the course of my time in California. I don’t know exactly where they will lead, but with enough persistence and luck, it’ll be the start to something big.

Quack.