Evidently my body decided, when I went to England, New York City, and Wisconsin in quick succession, that I just didn't know what the hell I wanted in terms of sleep, food, or brain function. Thus I am sleep-deprived and eating irregularly. This goes against the famed 5-2-1 rule of congoing, which says that you should have at least 5 hours of sleep, 2 full meals, and 1 shower daily.

With regard to brain function, being around smart, friendly people makes me feel glib and clever in my speech, but I autographed a book the other day and misspelled my own name. My first name. I wrote, "From Sunday." It was Thursday night. It's Saturday now. I'm on two panels today.

A few people were astonished that this is my first con. Why hadn't I done a scifi convention before now? Because I didn't feel I had the disposable income, or I hadn't gotten into the habit when I was younger, or I thought I wasn't fannish enough. Because the Bay Area and the internet fed my hunger for being around People Like Me. Because I didn't know it was going to be this much fun. I'm constantly having great conversations with new friends and old. There is no better charge to my self-esteem than to see people I like laugh at my jokes, enjoy my company, and make opportunity-cost decisions to spend time with me -- to find me desirable, in a sense.

My roommates and I involuntarily woke up before 7am and chatted for hours about cons, RaceFail, clothes, comics, software, friends, publishing, DIY, religion, and general geekery. I should, like, eat breakfast and start panelgoing. And shower. 5-2-1.