Before the road pulls you under

qualified success?

Made it to two recreational panels, and the two panels I was nominally on. Finally went to the programming page and indicated my interest in being a moderator next year. (ask me about my strong opinions about audience and panelist wrangling.  If I'm going to sotto voce to Abundance all the time about how I'd have done things, I should probably go do the thing instead)
 

Did the work, sort of, still more work to do.  Something about this work keeps putting me in the mind of Marge Piercy's For Strong Women, but maybe that's just because I don't want to feel so shitty about the tears I dissolved into about fifteen minutes after getting off my last shift. (yes, it's got some of the usual problems with feminism from the 1980s, but it's got bits that have their claws in me too) I refused to go to my room and give into the sobs, though, sat in front of the starbucks and  got into an interesting conversation in fairly short order.  Then about an hour later, realized I hadn't eaten lunch, retreated to the room and stopped holding it together. 
 

At some point during this workstoppage of my fortitude, i realized that despite having reserved the hotel room for tonight, what I really needed was to go home so I could be in my own space and so I could see Spark for a bit tomorrow morning.  And that I wasn't fooling myself, I'd be hard pressed to remember what it is I'm supposed to do around people in this context in the best of circumstances, and I was feeling pretty worn around the seams, despite only really having worked an average of four hours a day over four days.  (sounds like a humblebrag, actually feels like failure) and any attempt to try to participate in any postcon staff socializing was doomed to an awkwardness that I'd interpret as failure.  

for fucks sake, injured internal monologue, either stop wanting things you're constitutionally incapable of feeling, or figure out how to change your constitution.

Abundance got back to the hotel from the work-friend thing he'd been out doing, Light drove out to pick us up.  We piled all our stuff into the car,
the car didn't turn back on.   Piled out of the car, called a lyft, went home, Light waited for what we thought would be a tow but ended up just being a jump from AAA and came home and we ate mexican food and watched youtube videos.   And now I'll do my silly duolingo latin, and get off all my devices by 9:30 and stop wearing all the glitter and figure out what happens next.  Or just try not to think about what happens next until after surgery.  Make the plans, do the things, omnia.  Make the plans, do the things.