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Norwescon: The coming down after the flying high
Mon, Apr. 5th, 2010 08:56 amMany of you know what it's like. You go to a convention, and the energy starts running high almost as soon as you see a face you haven't seen in far too long. There are hugs and laughter, and "Wow, you look great" or "Congrats on the award nomination" or "Dude, did you see 'Alice in Wonderland'?" You speak on a good panel, you critique a manuscript or two as part of the convention writing workshop and then you go to the bar with friends because you've worked hard and It's Miller Time. The bad jokes, clever conversation, and insightful discussion ticks away at a healthy and entertaining pace until the wee hours, you go to back to the room to sleep, get up, and do it all over again. And it continues almost up to the last minute.
And then, it's time to go home.
And then you're home. With the clutter that needs organizing, and the geriatric cat who's taken up spitting up dinner halfway through the night, and the day job patiently awaiting your grudging return. You take the evening to detox, and then sleep the sleep of the righteous until the alarm goes off.
Yes, it's the Monday after Norwescon. What I want most of all is to focus on my freelance work and to get my taxes done. What I have to do is turn in my timecard to the day job, check in with said day job to see what's on the docket for the day, and ignore the things I really want or have to do in favor of that which will pay me in a regular and timely manner.
But you know what it's like. My heart is one part still giddy from the weekend and one part gray as this morning's Seattle sky. It's the first time in a long time I've come away from the convention not feeling like I was abused in some fashion because of oppressive scheduling or a sour encounter. It's the first time in a long while that I wanted the convention to go on for another day or two. But real life awaits. I should go answer its call.
And then, it's time to go home.
And then you're home. With the clutter that needs organizing, and the geriatric cat who's taken up spitting up dinner halfway through the night, and the day job patiently awaiting your grudging return. You take the evening to detox, and then sleep the sleep of the righteous until the alarm goes off.
Yes, it's the Monday after Norwescon. What I want most of all is to focus on my freelance work and to get my taxes done. What I have to do is turn in my timecard to the day job, check in with said day job to see what's on the docket for the day, and ignore the things I really want or have to do in favor of that which will pay me in a regular and timely manner.
But you know what it's like. My heart is one part still giddy from the weekend and one part gray as this morning's Seattle sky. It's the first time in a long time I've come away from the convention not feeling like I was abused in some fashion because of oppressive scheduling or a sour encounter. It's the first time in a long while that I wanted the convention to go on for another day or two. But real life awaits. I should go answer its call.