Woke up around 7, and was unabashedly and perkily awake. Nothing could dissuade me from same, in fact.
Left the Temple, um, what, somewhat after ten? Walked to fabric store.
Discovered that ribbon (cream and white) was cheaper than I thought it would be. Smirked. Got safety pins. Belatedly remembered the crochet hook.
Disgustedly settled for "Lion Brand" plastic (inferior, and not small enough).
Waited absurdly long for bus.
Waited absurdly long for bus schedule (bus was running early and stayed stopped at the stop).
Got off a stop later than I should have (the one on the other side of the freeway) and walked to the con hotel.
Got directions from the concierge to the con area.
Wandered around looking bewildered for a bit. Sadly, this was not immediately pounced upon, because of the hour of the morning and my dress (before noon, when all respectable filkers are still in bed or pursuing breakfast with great enthusiasm or wandering around looking bewildered, and black skirt, black tank top, green and blue patterned velvet shirt, black hat reading "White Hat").
Found the right place and became one with the con. Name badge? Azure Lunatic, of course. That's really becoming my name name, at least for dealings with most of the people in public that I want to deal with. Really, it's like a War Mage name (reference: "The Mirror of Maybe", WIP) in that
Saw the GM from work. Yay!
Spent some time wandering around with no set course.
Saw the Mars table. Got into a discussion with the spaceheads and rocket scientists about Mars, and whether or not it was the place that I most wanted to go in the solar system today. Yes, if I could go to Mars immediately for vacation, I would. I would also move to Mars permanently, were that an option. I was ambivalent on the thought of going to Mars and immediately dying. If it would make the space race that much better/faster/more determined, to honor my memory, then yes. If it would deter others from going into space, then no.
Words are all I have to sing the dream of being weightless. This body was not meant for flight, for space, for liftoff's thrust and burn and crushing weight. Not meant for stomach falling into throat in orbit, where tears can fly in spinning crystal spheres. I shelter safely under ozone's blanket, not soaring high and scorching skin with bitter rays.
Would that I were there where words are weightless. Would that I were there where action and reaction dance close upon each other's heels. Would that I could see with my own eyes the way the world is round, a living marble wrapped with cloudy air.
Those that dare to fly have lived the dream of being weightless. Their bodies faced the thrust and burn and crushing weight. They danced with feet on stars, tiptoe among the spinning crystal spheres. They shall still soar, high above our scorched and bitter tears.
The GM from work shared her artwork with me, and we had a good old-fashioned gossip over what might have passed as lunch had I not been too distracted to actually rummage in my capacious purse for the actual things to eat I had.
One of the rooms had a warning tape draped above the room, that this was an Imperial area. Vader! Maul! Too many replica lightsabers to shake a stick at! I was thrilled. Briefly. Then I wandered off.
I was eventually pulled into the filk concert (guest artist Maya Brener) and had fun listening for a while.
I wandered off.
There was a Darth Vader around. I find Darth Vader very attractive, so I giggled when this one walked up to me and said, "Boo."
There was a panel with Michael Stackpole on it, in the Star Wars room, naturally. Some people who reminded me strongly of Darth T-Rex and his family were around, but turned out not to be (I think). I sat down partway through Stackpole's holding forth on how he came to be doing this line of work anyway...
Bantam Books wanted to do a Star Wars book, or something like that. Lucasfilm said "Nay, nay, nay," but offered them instead the rights to do some tie-in books to the X-Wing game. Bantam called Stackpole and asked his advice, if the crossover between readers and computer game players was really all that good to be worth doing books. Stackpole said no. Bantam said, in the hanging up of the phone, that it was Star Wars. Stackpole said yes, that it would be worth it, it was STAR WARS. (In the fridge, duh.) Not that his approval had any influence on whether or not they agreed, but he was in on the project. Everybody was expecting a trilogy, when the new books were announced, so he wrote what looked like a perfect trilogy except for the last ten pages, when Corran Horn tells Luke to basically go screw something else. (Stackpole phrased it more nicely, and probably Corran did too.)
Stackpole communicated closely with Zahn and Lucasfilm and others working on the same universe, to keep continuity tight and sweet, borrowing each other's characters and bouncing back and forth bits of unfinished novel to keep characters in tune with each other.
There was a mild Vader-based disturbance of the panel, but that only added to atmosphere.
The panel ended. I wandered off.
I found myself in the dealers' room, and got snagged into first the conversation, and then the books, of a fellow holding forth at length about Heinlein. He was also conversant with Bujold and any number of other authors. I looked at books, and wound up going "Oooh, shiny." I wound up buying the omnibus of the first five Young Wizards books, Deep Secret, and an Alfred Bester anthology. There was, at that point, a "buy one hardback full price, get a five dollar hardback free" deal going on, and I took full advantage, snagging three Tanith Lee books for Sis.
By this time, the dealers' room had closed, and I wandered off.
I had opted out of the Masquerade, as both contestant or observer, and thereby wound up in the filk room early. I settled into a corner with book and snacks, finally getting something approximating an actual meal, bit by bit.
Other people filtered in.
I had, sadly, neglected to think that I should bring "George Lucas's Ghost is Haunting My Playstation Three" or "The High-Speed Connection". I was chided for same by one of the people on the con committee. I did sing "DHCP's Down", however.
The filk sing was hysterical and brilliant, with the GoH filker having fun, us having fun, some random kids having fun, and me getting song bunnies like mad. It was evidently not apparent that this was my first con. I came up with a song to commemorate the little Darth Vader disruption.
As I do have to get up tomorrow to work, and then I'll be working and having class on Monday, I had to depart early (before midnight). The same con committee guy who chided me for not bringing my filk told me that I needed to come back to all the conventions. And filk circles.
I guess I made an impression.
And that was my first con.