I suppose I’ll start by giving something of a warning. This post will likely be long, circular in its expression, meandering, and without much structure or organization. Such is my mind. If I remember, I’ll see about putting a TL;DR at the bottom but I imagine if someone were to take the time to click on this link to look they would be interested enough to read the whole thing. I don’t know. Seeing as how I never really expect anyone to read this, I guess I’m typing this largely for my own benefit. Huzzah.

 

This past weekend, I had the extreme privilege to cast my first HGC offline event. A question I was asked a number of times leading up to, during, and after the event was how does it feel? What do I think? Looking back now on all the times I’ve answered that question and the different ways I tried  to I came to a pretty interesting realization.

 

In the past, I would measure my words because I didn’t feel like anyone would want to hear the entirety of what I had to say. Now, I would measure my words answering each time because I had so much I wanted to say I felt like I’d end up talking someone’s ear off and they’d have gotten infinitely more than they asked for. But the key takeaway for me in that is that I actually WANTED to talk someone’s ear off.

 

I wanted to express my thoughts and feelings. Openly. Without reservation. To a human being. In real time. To their face. And I wasn’t afraid to do so.

 

The act of measuring my words, through that context, felt the same as before. But different. But in action still the same. The what was similar. The how and why could not be any more different.

 

I have grown, and as a result my relationship with expression has changed. As thought about what I’d write in this post I came to the realization that my relationship with casting has changed also. Because I have changed.

 

Anyone who’s known me for a long while or has taken the time to read an interview about me or a blog post I’ve written about casting would likely know that I got into casting as a means of honest expression. Much like this blog, it was an avenue for me to ignore the general pathways of negative thought so I could be myself. People enjoying my casting, and the act of casting itself has always been a side effect to a much more personal goal.

 

As I’ve gotten to do more things and have  gotten more feedback, the more confidence I have gotten about expression in other parts of my life. Casting has helped me become a more confident, more ambitious person; someone that believes in themselves in a way they never had before. I love casting, and it will always be a part of me.

 

But in the way that I used to, I don’t feel I need casting anymore.

 

It feels weird to type that, because on its own it might sound like I’m not going to cast anymore or that I don’t like it anymore or something. That’s not the case at all. Allow me to explain.

 

A fundamental principle of casting for me has always been that I, effectively, am not concerned with what people think of my performance.

 

I think back to the first day of the Western Clash. I had done a pretty good job of not feeling nervous leading up to the event, and I found it particularly inopportune that an avalanche of nervousness would crash upon me watching the countdown to the beginning of the day. I put my headset on, looked out to the audience, looked to Trikslyr at my right and Khaldor at my left, feeling like a deer in proverbial headlights.

 

All of the negative thoughts about myself came rushing in at once. I would bomb. People wouldn’t like me. It’d be proven that I couldn’t hack casting at the professional level. You name it.

 

I’m ashamed to admit that it really affected me once the show got underway. I felt reserved. Timid. Afraid to really step into anything I had to say. I felt like such an outsider. All of my other co-casters have literally years of professional level Heroes experience. My first 900 games or so were AI matches.

 

Who the Hell was I to try to speak intelligently at all about anything that was happening? I’ve never casted HGC matches before. Some Open Division stuff, sure, but never the HGC proper. I was a stranger. First impressions are important. I’m going to fail. That’s what I thought.

 

That emotional anchor carried with me through my first cast. It is the act of some benevolent force in the universe that made it so my first time casting the HGC is with one of my best friends not only in the Heroes scene but in life. Josh, at this point, feels like a brother so to get to cast a match with him was immeasurably cool. I’m sad to say that I did not do as well as I had hoped casting that match. I was in my own head too much, and as much as some might say to the contrary, I’m certain those that know my casting well enough would know that something was off. I can admit that.

 

I wanted to hide from the world after, but I didn’t have that luxury. I was due to be back on the desk after the next match. So to the best of my ability I tried to silo these feelings to do the job I came there to do. Finally, I had a break.

 

I sat in the green room alone, feeling the onset of welling tears. I was blowing it. I was letting nerves get in the way. On top of all the people I was letting down, I was letting myself down.

 

Something clicked in me in that moment, though. Having resigned to failure, I had a thought that was counter-intuitive to my pity party. If I had failed, what did I have to lose in just going all out without a care in the damn world? What did I have to lose if I had already lost?

 

And then it all hit me.

 

I didn’t get into casting to seek or attain anyone’s approval. Hell, when I got into casting I openly anticipated ridicule and mockery. Casting was a means to fall so I could learn how to get back up, feeling content with the effort made over any perceived result. It was me learning how to try giving something my all. To be afraid of failing would abandon that principle, so I made a deal with myself. I told myself I could feel as terribly as I wanted to after the event, but during said event I was going to go down in a blaze of glory. I’m going to cast like it’s a Chair League match with 6 people, and I’m going to cast like none of those 6 people would like what I had to say.

 

But I was going to say it anyway.

 

My ability to act without giving a damn leveled up in a way it hadn’t before, and while the perfectionist in me still flinched at every stumbled word and every mistake I was happy with the performance I put forward thereafter. I was happy and content with the idea that I would step off of that stage or walk out of the casting room knowing thousand of people thoroughly disliked my performance. I was fine with Blizzard regretting their decision to bring me to the Western Clash. I was okay with knowing I’d never get another shot at casting at the professional level again. Because that was all a form of approval that I never aimed to seek.

 

To me, true confidence is not needing anyone else’s approval because you already have your own. And I had mine in that moment. To do something of the enormity of the Western Clash, a commentator’s dream, and still make my feelings about my performance solely about me is something I’ll never forget and I’m eternally thankful  for the opportunity.

 

Glancing over all of this makes it sound like I had extremely selfish intentions with casting the Western Clash. Surprise, I kinda did. But I stand by the reasoning that any time I cast I need to prove to myself that I can actually BE myself if I’m to give a performance to the level I’m capable of. A number of people have said they aren’t sure where I come up with some of the things I say. I don’t either. I just know for damn sure that I wouldn’t be able to come up with them if I’m not feeling like it’s okay to be myself.

 

What was surprising to me was how well received my performance this weekend really was. Realistically, I expected boilerplate ‘great job!’ kinds of comments where it’d largely feel like people were saying what they felt they should say to be socially courteous and to be gentle with my feelings. But I didn’t get that. I got the impression people were genuine and sincere in their compliments. So many people recalled a line I said here, or something I said there. They remembered. They enjoyed it. I helped them to have a good time. That’s an amazing feeling.

 

A moment I will always, ALWAYS remember from this weekend was on the third day. I talked about it on the desk, about how I saw Team Freedom getting ready for their match and I popped into the room to tell them to have fun. Nazmas, someone I’ve never talked to before this event, looked away from the monitor and saw me there and took the time to walk across the room to give me a fist bump. Perhaps that was a trivial gesture for him, but it carries a lifelong impact for me.

 

I could be 100% wrong, but I took that moment as him feeling we had enough of a rapport that he wanted to share the encouragement. I left an impression with him that gave him a feeling that he knew me well enough to want to do that. And outside of our interviews going into the tournament, he had really only gotten to know me through my casting. It made me feel like I had been successful in my mission of being myself. My pure enthusiasm for casting, and the want to see teams succeed registered in enough of a way that someone I didn’t know felt as though they knew me. Because they did, because I was myself on stage and in casting.

 

I am likely not articulating any of this well, but what I mean to say is that no matter how I was received by the players, my co-casters, or the community I was happy with my ability to be myself to be measured however I ended up being measured. I somehow managed to do that. Even though it scared the Hell out of me.

 

If anything, BECAUSE it scared the Hell out of me.

 

I say all of this to get across the point that I found a way to seek only my approval in an instance that would have felt impossible before, and I’ve gotten to that point because of casting and because of the support I’ve gotten and the encouragement I’ve gotten that it’s okay to be myself.

 

And that’s why I say I don’t necessarily need casting anymore. In that context of self confidence, I’ve accomplished the mission I set out for myself two years ago. I did it. I’m, in that capacity, the person I had hoped to become. Roll credits.

 

So what next, then? If I don’t need casting to feel confident in myself do I stop casting? I don’t intend to. Where casting was once a fully personal endeavor, now I see a possibility of it become more of a professional one. I will always be a person first and a caster second. I will always just be myself, for better or worse. I just feel certain that I actually WILL always be just myself, and I don’t need casting to get up the nerve to feel that way.

 

I want to cast more HGC level things. I want to cast, commentate, and host more professionally. I feel confident in my ability to excel at that, and to bring something no one else can. I’m the only me there is, and it’s with confidence and not arrogance that inspires me to want to push further.

 

At the same time, though, if I never got to cast professionally again I would be okay. It’d be a bummer, because of how much fun I had at the idea that I could maybe someday cast as my main vocation, but I wouldn’t let such a turn diminish the progress I’ve made personally. Because casting, for me, has never been about the results. It’s been about the sincerity and totality of the effort. And I’ve managed to stay true to that.

 

It is incredibly humbling to think that people liked my casting this past weekend. Also surprising. I’ve always struggled with allowing myself to be complimented or feeling good about something I’ve done. I don’t want to come off like a dick. But I think my journey casting has gotten me to a place where I can be my humble self while not selling myself short of being self deprecating about myself or my worth. That’s a form of confidence I’ve never had before, but I have it now.

 

Thanks to casting, and thanks to anyone who’s ever encouraged me to keep going.

 

I look to throw my proverbial hat in the ring for opportunities I feel I’d be a good fit for. In my own way, I plan to advocate for myself and push to make the goals I have a reality.

 

While one chapter of personal growth ends, another begins and I’m excited to see where it takes me.

 

Whoops. I forgot.

TL;DR

Casting has always been a means to feel better about myself, and it’s been successful in that endeavor. I’m excited to make the most I can out of that success, and to continue growing both personally and professionally.