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Jun. 16th, 2008 04:52 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
beccaelizabethI'm home. I'm tired. But only ordinary amounts of tired.
I successfully snuck up on Michael Shanks. He had to leave the con early, but only after he'd done all the photos and autographs and talks and stuff, so that worked out. I now have photos and autographs and stuff.
Win.
Also, one photo has evidence of teeth for first time since high school.
... he tickled me.
I took notes and may have a con report later.
... I have to do something with my hands, and taking notes works, even if I can't always read them later.
If I was better at talking and got more out of socialising the weekend could have been better.
As it was, I read a good book.
Also the guest talks were good, or some of them brilliant and hilarious. The only time I felt sick this weekend was with laughing.
The parties were... well, the music ranged from 'a bit crap' to 'absolutely sodding pathetic'. There were maybe half a dozen con dances played. And hours and hours and hours where the DJ seemed to think an empty dance floor was a good thing. I gave up at midnight both nights. Seeing as I usually stay up until breakfast you can imagine how painfully bad it had to be. And he wouldn't play requests - even when handed them on a CD. In fact one of my requests had the intro start playing and he changed the track. Was no good, and no way to improve it. But the Sunday night involved the organiser assuring quite a lot of people in a row that DJ was of the past, history, and gone. New DJ next time.
Thank goodness.
I think next time I'll try and pack a party in a memory stick. Con tracks, stuff connected to the show, stuff that always gets played. Should be able to fit a lot on something that'll go in my bag easily.
First time I'd been to an event by these organisers. It did what it said on the tin, with the exception of the unfortunate and assured to be fixed music. I'm already booked for The Hub, and I'm thinking that's going to be good. I'd like it better if there was a big screen with video on it, mostly because I discover this weekend I really truly do need new glasses. 12 rows back - which was the back row, btw, small event - and I had to take their word for it on who was on stage. *facepalm*
I dislike the whole gold ticket / first 100 / rest of everyone seperation. It means instead of one huge line to get in the main hall there's three. It makes less of a difference at photo and autograph times because those are always ticketed. But even when not inconvenient, it's somehow less fun, having the extra shiny and the not so shiny seperate and waiting at different ends and seated in assigned rows and all that. Big blah on the attitude. But if everyone's willing to book gold tickets I can see how they make financial sense, and organisational sense since they sell the photo tickets in advance that way, and really since it all works plenty well it's all good.
Sunday night party is Not A Disco. In fact, I wouldn't bother calling it a party, cause basically it's just everyone sitting around in the bar. We can do that without it being a scheduled item. I dislike the talking sort of party because I d-d-don't talk so very well. I've had a stupidly stuttery weekend, very frustrating, been resorting to writing notes and making hand gestures... er, nice polite hand gestures, I assure you. It's just a bit irritating to keep on getting hung up in the middle of saying something like that. Mostly people are fine with it and just wait until I'm done. Some of the hotel staff tried to guess, and got it wrong, but they do the same thing all day and it was a good guess so they were trying to be helpful. One guy... I hadn't previously found someone who thought me starting to stutter meant it was their turn to talk again. Possibly I was being too quiet and he didn't notice I was trying to talk despite me having got to the third word in the sentence and him looking at me. Still, I be a bit annoyed. Shall have to think on if it is reasonable to be so.
There was a bit of talking, and then the people went away, and another table, and a lot of talking, and then Loud Drunk Girl decided to do all the talking for a while, thanks to a whole bottle of wine, and that was less interesting. And then one of the con organisers sat down and pretty much entertained the table for the rest of the night, at least until I left. Anecdote central. Convention stories of old. Room parties that involved disassembling the four poster bed and putting it back together on a roof. Live Action Frogger. The guy they convinced he'd passed out on a ceiling. Hilarious, as long as you don't think too hard, and then very *facepalm*. Oh, also, you know when you read in the paper someone had a live bit of war stuff sitting around for years and then it has to be controlled explosioned? And you wonder what kind of absolute idiot could do that?
... yep. Met one.
It was a funny story in its way, and didn't hold back on explaining in precise detail exactly how stupid the teller had been, so, you know, amusing.
*facepalm* doesn't quite cover it though.
I think I sat and listened for about four hours and talked maybe half an hour. *shrugs* Was fun.
Weirdest thing about this weekend? I don't appear to be ill. No panic, no sickness, no fainting... okay, interesting shiny lights when I got the bags the wrong way around, and a sort of pulsing effect on the way home that suggests I really shouldn't be doing anything complicated or making important decisions before I sleep some more, but in general, no being ill. I ate at every meal. I ordered chips from the bar. And, um, took them upstairs to eat because loud-busy-many was getting a bit much, but still, extra shiny for effort. Basically aside from the stutter I was just... ordinary. You know, for the venue.
Not sure I know what to do next, really. I mean, ten years it has been the goal to just stop being ill. Now what?
... well, Bad Wolf, and The Hub, and Hamlet at the RSC, and doing more studying, and ... er, okay, my 'and' list runs out... oh, no, I remember, the British Museum, and the Doctor Who exhibition when the season ends, and some other museums I'll remember later. And after that my list runs out? Nope, actually, there's that Doctor Who group I didn't meet, and the Science Fiction group, and whatever other groups I can find around here.
... okay, so possibly I can get on and live life and not be ill. Cool.
... I think after that I have to get a job or something. I was only planning on being a student though. I think that's allowed first.
Heh. Sorry. Mostly people are not going to find it weird like I do, so the amusement is obscure.
Okay, so I was only going to write a quick note here. I need food and sleep and stuff. I'll post this.
I successfully snuck up on Michael Shanks. He had to leave the con early, but only after he'd done all the photos and autographs and talks and stuff, so that worked out. I now have photos and autographs and stuff.
Win.
Also, one photo has evidence of teeth for first time since high school.
... he tickled me.
I took notes and may have a con report later.
... I have to do something with my hands, and taking notes works, even if I can't always read them later.
If I was better at talking and got more out of socialising the weekend could have been better.
As it was, I read a good book.
Also the guest talks were good, or some of them brilliant and hilarious. The only time I felt sick this weekend was with laughing.
The parties were... well, the music ranged from 'a bit crap' to 'absolutely sodding pathetic'. There were maybe half a dozen con dances played. And hours and hours and hours where the DJ seemed to think an empty dance floor was a good thing. I gave up at midnight both nights. Seeing as I usually stay up until breakfast you can imagine how painfully bad it had to be. And he wouldn't play requests - even when handed them on a CD. In fact one of my requests had the intro start playing and he changed the track. Was no good, and no way to improve it. But the Sunday night involved the organiser assuring quite a lot of people in a row that DJ was of the past, history, and gone. New DJ next time.
Thank goodness.
I think next time I'll try and pack a party in a memory stick. Con tracks, stuff connected to the show, stuff that always gets played. Should be able to fit a lot on something that'll go in my bag easily.
First time I'd been to an event by these organisers. It did what it said on the tin, with the exception of the unfortunate and assured to be fixed music. I'm already booked for The Hub, and I'm thinking that's going to be good. I'd like it better if there was a big screen with video on it, mostly because I discover this weekend I really truly do need new glasses. 12 rows back - which was the back row, btw, small event - and I had to take their word for it on who was on stage. *facepalm*
I dislike the whole gold ticket / first 100 / rest of everyone seperation. It means instead of one huge line to get in the main hall there's three. It makes less of a difference at photo and autograph times because those are always ticketed. But even when not inconvenient, it's somehow less fun, having the extra shiny and the not so shiny seperate and waiting at different ends and seated in assigned rows and all that. Big blah on the attitude. But if everyone's willing to book gold tickets I can see how they make financial sense, and organisational sense since they sell the photo tickets in advance that way, and really since it all works plenty well it's all good.
Sunday night party is Not A Disco. In fact, I wouldn't bother calling it a party, cause basically it's just everyone sitting around in the bar. We can do that without it being a scheduled item. I dislike the talking sort of party because I d-d-don't talk so very well. I've had a stupidly stuttery weekend, very frustrating, been resorting to writing notes and making hand gestures... er, nice polite hand gestures, I assure you. It's just a bit irritating to keep on getting hung up in the middle of saying something like that. Mostly people are fine with it and just wait until I'm done. Some of the hotel staff tried to guess, and got it wrong, but they do the same thing all day and it was a good guess so they were trying to be helpful. One guy... I hadn't previously found someone who thought me starting to stutter meant it was their turn to talk again. Possibly I was being too quiet and he didn't notice I was trying to talk despite me having got to the third word in the sentence and him looking at me. Still, I be a bit annoyed. Shall have to think on if it is reasonable to be so.
There was a bit of talking, and then the people went away, and another table, and a lot of talking, and then Loud Drunk Girl decided to do all the talking for a while, thanks to a whole bottle of wine, and that was less interesting. And then one of the con organisers sat down and pretty much entertained the table for the rest of the night, at least until I left. Anecdote central. Convention stories of old. Room parties that involved disassembling the four poster bed and putting it back together on a roof. Live Action Frogger. The guy they convinced he'd passed out on a ceiling. Hilarious, as long as you don't think too hard, and then very *facepalm*. Oh, also, you know when you read in the paper someone had a live bit of war stuff sitting around for years and then it has to be controlled explosioned? And you wonder what kind of absolute idiot could do that?
... yep. Met one.
It was a funny story in its way, and didn't hold back on explaining in precise detail exactly how stupid the teller had been, so, you know, amusing.
*facepalm* doesn't quite cover it though.
I think I sat and listened for about four hours and talked maybe half an hour. *shrugs* Was fun.
Weirdest thing about this weekend? I don't appear to be ill. No panic, no sickness, no fainting... okay, interesting shiny lights when I got the bags the wrong way around, and a sort of pulsing effect on the way home that suggests I really shouldn't be doing anything complicated or making important decisions before I sleep some more, but in general, no being ill. I ate at every meal. I ordered chips from the bar. And, um, took them upstairs to eat because loud-busy-many was getting a bit much, but still, extra shiny for effort. Basically aside from the stutter I was just... ordinary. You know, for the venue.
Not sure I know what to do next, really. I mean, ten years it has been the goal to just stop being ill. Now what?
... well, Bad Wolf, and The Hub, and Hamlet at the RSC, and doing more studying, and ... er, okay, my 'and' list runs out... oh, no, I remember, the British Museum, and the Doctor Who exhibition when the season ends, and some other museums I'll remember later. And after that my list runs out? Nope, actually, there's that Doctor Who group I didn't meet, and the Science Fiction group, and whatever other groups I can find around here.
... okay, so possibly I can get on and live life and not be ill. Cool.
... I think after that I have to get a job or something. I was only planning on being a student though. I think that's allowed first.
Heh. Sorry. Mostly people are not going to find it weird like I do, so the amusement is obscure.
Okay, so I was only going to write a quick note here. I need food and sleep and stuff. I'll post this.