Daily Archives: July 22, 2009

Stuff; Or, What I Did Today

The boy’s 49-months-old post is up and backdated. Thanks to Debra, I have a better idea how to use iPhoto and Preview, and so I could actually provide photos for the post. (I’ll get there, Mac.)

I’m currently editing a PhD thesis proposal for a biochemical engineering student whose native language is not English. It’s required me to look into the world of scientific style manuals, as opposed to the humanities style manuals I’ve absorbed over the years. Very interesting, though, and quite enjoyable. This is only one brief section of others that will come, too.

The boy left Blackie the bunny at home this morning, so I seized the opportunity that he has denied us for months and said, “INTO THE WASH, you innocent, horribly bedraggled thing!” Even soaking wet, I could see how clean Blackie was as I transferred him from washer to dryer. Four months of preschool grime really adds up on a best-buddy stuffed pal. When I took him out of the dryer, Blackie looked practically new. Aside from the four months of aggressive love that have marked him eternally, that is. I hope the boy is happy to see Blackie all shiny and clean and recognizes that he has survived the experience with cheer and aplomb, although part of me expects tears because I threw the rabbit in the wash without the boy’s permission.

Ceri and I were supposed to go antiquing and then to Ariadne this afternoon, but she was felled by a visit from the evil Migraine Fairy. I ended up messing with Garageband on my lunch break instead, and discovered that the Mac Mini doesn’t have a microphone jack. You need something like the iMic USB connector through which to run your microphone. So no sound clips of the 7/8 cello for you, Gentle Readers. I re-ripped a couple more albums and practiced the cello this afternoon instead. And I discovered that the Bibliotheque nationale downtown has tonnes of books on spinning, books that I’d otherwise have to buy. I’ll head down there either this week or next and get a library card, then take a pile of them home.

I really hope HRH is in the mood for Rock Band tonight.

In Which She Makes A Regretful Discovery

So this past week, I remembered that hey, wow, Worldcon is coming up! And the only reason I remembered was because we realized that the trip to Nova Scotia is rapidly approaching, and Worldcon starts the day before we come back. This tells me something important.

Now, we didn’t buy our memberships ahead of time; money was tight, and since we were going to miss at least a day we figured we’d buy weekend or day passes. And then we waited because I wanted to see what the schedule would be like, so I’d be sure to buy the pass for the day I wanted most. And the schedules were only recently finalized, which drove me nuts, although I’ve participated in large-event organization before and I know how hard it is to pin this stuff down early.

Except now the time’s almost upon us, and I’m slowly realizing something. The only reasons I want to go to Worldcon are:

1. The biggest damn F/SF industry party is going to be IN MY TOWN and to miss it would be just stupid. I’m never going to get to travel to one anywhere else.

2. I want to attend signings of a handful of authors.

And really, that’s it. And can I really afford to pay for passes when I’m not going to really do anything? (Really.)

I was much more excited about Worldcon last year. The excitement has really faded until now, a couple of weeks before the convention itself, I’m at the point where I can’t be bothered about it. And I feel guilty about it, because, well, see item 1 above.

As a corollary, I present opposing arguments:

1. I hate large gatherings of people, with a biting, burning passion.

1a. I hate meeting new people.

2. We have no friends coming into town for the event that we’d be wanting to spend time with there.

3. My areas of writing have moved out of F/SF and into mainstream, specifically YA mainstream. (Okay, there’s the Pandora book which is urban fantasy, but it’s the exception that proves the rule.)

It’s kind of telling when the workshops/panels/ sessions that interest me the most are two or three of the signings, the knitting circle and the spinning workshop, the bookbinding/conservation workshop, and a panel on YA or folklore or music here and there. I don’t absolutely need to go to these; I’d be going to them because they’re being offered and I’d need to do something because I’d paid to get in. That’s the wrong reason entirely.

It’s a lot of money for something I’m not passionate or excited about. And it’s hard on the heels of driving home from NS, too. I know what my decision is going to be, unless something major happens to change it.