July 6th, 2005

breeden

Meeting People At Cons!

Generally I feel a little weird posting stuff like this, as if my fan-base were so extensive that I needed a press-release or something, (which it isn't by any stretch) but I know that some people are much happier having handy guides for this sort of thing, so what the heck. This, while rather long, is as much to apologize in advance for my failures as anything else. *grin*
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breeden

Anxiety Dreams

I know I'm stressed out about the Con because I've been having intense anxiety dreams for the past few days. (On the bright side, my recent crown woes have evidentally purged the tooth-falling-out dreams from my brain for quite awhile--my tooth fell out in a dream, I grumbled and stuck it back in with Fixodent, and the dream slunk off with its tail between its legs.) Last night--not so much, I overwhelmed them with WoW.

But this afternoon, I took a nap, and jesus christ. I think I managed to top my all-time anxiety dreams. Trying to get ready for something Very Important--I think my wedding or a tax audit or something, and if we didn't get done on time, bad men would come and yell at us, or possibly kill us--and the cel phone explodes and catches fire on the floor, billowing black smoke. I throw the rug out the door, and the outside comes in. Not only was the house invaded by bugs/lizards/small animals, they were on fire while they invaded. Ropes of millipedes, on fire. Rat snake under my desk eating lizards? On fire. Jerboa (how the hell did a jerboa get in here?) trapped behind the TV? On fire. James was trying to make dinner, while I'm tearing around the room screaming about animals on fire, and James, GET THEM OUT OF HERE! (It was the millipedes. I could handle the rest, but the millipedes break me.) The floor was alive with little bits of green and blue fire, trundling in from outside. Outside. Where the aliens were lurking. And I had to go to the bathroom.

And Satan was singing in the background. No one will be surprised to learn that Satan sings with a distinct country twang, although I didn't expect him to be quite so nasal. Strangely, I actually remember a chunk of the song:

Nobody to the front of me
Nobody to the back of me
Nobody to the side of me
There must be nobody here but me..

It's about the two of us
Just the two of us
It's always about just the two of us...


I think that may be a real song, or chunks of a real song, and I should probably be grateful that Satan wasn't inclined to do "Total Eclipse of the Heart" or something, but still, I woke up from a sea of flaming animals and went "Oooooh...man, I'll be glad when this is over..."
breeden

James, on Furry

James is not really into furry stuff, even to the extent I am. He comes to the conventions patiently, he mans the table, he is polite, he knows a few people and is happy to see them, but he is not himself inclined to furrydom. And not being involved in the fandom at all, there are only a few people he knows, whereas I have a reasonable working knowledge of at least the artist segment. So this is alien territory for him, and althoughe everybody is always very nice to him, and he's polite and laid back and can watch fursuits go by without batting an eyelash, and is always kind to animals--but still, furry's still just not his thing.

The other day, over dinner, he said "I think furry is like the military."

"Huwah?" I said, through chicken salad.

"See, it's got all this stuff that I think looks really cool, and I can totally see why people get into it, buuuuut--"

"--but you don't want to enlist," I finished.

"Exactly!"

We contemplated this for a moment. I was turning back to my meal when he whipped his head around and stared at me in dawning horror. "But--wait! You get me to these conventions for two weekends a year."

I looked smug through my hot dog.

"And that means--I'm in the furry reserves!"

Heh heh heh heh...