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figmoIt rarely fails to happen:
1. I go to a con.
2. I feel good for having gone to the con and having had a good time.
3. I read the con reports, see myself totally absent, and get really depressed.
This continuously amazes me, given that I've done some things over the years I thought were highly conspicuous. I once coordinated the smuggling of a sousaphone into OVFF. I have run cons. I have done concerts complete with costume changes and choreography. I've tried to make a sanitary napkin with wings fly while on stage. I've brought an insufferably cute dog to cons.
This time even the dog didn't get mentioned.
1. I go to a con.
2. I feel good for having gone to the con and having had a good time.
3. I read the con reports, see myself totally absent, and get really depressed.
This continuously amazes me, given that I've done some things over the years I thought were highly conspicuous. I once coordinated the smuggling of a sousaphone into OVFF. I have run cons. I have done concerts complete with costume changes and choreography. I've tried to make a sanitary napkin with wings fly while on stage. I've brought an insufferably cute dog to cons.
This time even the dog didn't get mentioned.
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Date: 2004-01-20 08:47 pm (UTC)I've already committed to being in a (non-filk)performance and maybe some panels.
And I'm actually enjoying the fact that I'm not running the thing. My Raving Ego loves its attention, but it's nice to not be In Charge. Especially in Phoenix in July.