Wiscon Monday
Jun. 1st, 2010 12:51 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
jinianWoke up with a fairly bad headache and disorientation. Failed to use words adequately. Hit the consuite for breakfast. Wished consuite didn't usually seem so perilous: loads of people being loud and in the way, possibility of seeing people I want to talk to so I have to check and stay aware, possibility that it is ALL A HORRIBLE SOCIAL TRAP and I will have to talk to people I don't want to talk to. But bagel and orange juice were very important. (I was suspicious, but it was in fact orange juice.)
Made it to the panel on women's crafts in fantasy, which utilized P.C. Hodgell only a little. Mostly it was history and plausibility stuff. Despite my poor ability to string words together, I managed to bring imperialism and slavery into the discussion. It was Wiscon. And at the end I got to tell Joanna my wild-ass theory about PNW folks' treatment of the hair of their wool dogs to improve its spinnability! I hardly ever get to drag that out!
Headache continued, probably due to complete lack of medication on my part. Availed myself of the No Molestar sign and tried to nap for a couple of hours. Rubbed my head and neck. Eventually got up and saw lots and lots of migraine sparks, yay fucking hooray. It got better after that, though.
(Interjection from Denver-Seattle plane: OMG Ted Chiang is on this flight. I am not sitting next to him, alas, but there is genius all over everything. For this, I will turn my laptop ALL THE WAY OFF.)
I didn't really have time to go to the Botanical Garden after all that naptime, but I wanted to find the lake area that I'd been to in the very early morning one previous Wiscon, which I'd totally failed to get to with![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
rushthatspeaks. I did re-find Quisling Terrace, which we'd seen and laughed about on the way to frat row, though, and took a picture.
And it turns out to be quite easy to get to the park, just a few more blocks down than we'd gone. Hopefully I'll remember the way next time, though I've now completely blanked on the cross streets. I finished my cheese curds and ate some more Silly Yak bread in the breezy shade by the lake.
I don't normally like to talk to random people, but a scruffy older guy named Art was so nice about sitting in my tree-shade and talking to me almost too softly to hear that I had a conversation with him. He said he was a Vietnam vet and didn't like to think about it too much, so he wanted to be in my half of the park away from the Memorial Day speechifyin' at the other end. (Um, the "speechifyin'" part is all me; his English was very standard, but the term seems appropriate. Especially since it eventually turned into bagpipe music.) He was sweet, if weird, and got all thrilled that my work might help make drought-resistant plants. I'd given him my middle name, which I always do with people I don't know, but when he came back from finding me a four-leafed clover, he hollered "hey biologist!" anyway. Before he left he asked me if I'd shine in the world when he was gone, and I said yes. So I kinda feel like I was meant to have a headache today, you know? There's a four-leafed clover pressed in a Room of One's Own bookmark in my bag right now. I guess Ted Chiang should be pretty safe.
Wandered a little, got a giant smoothie, came back to the hotel and read a bit, took the shuttle to the airport. And found out I'd read 6:50 as 6:05. Sheesh. Spent a LOT of time in the Madison airport.
Made it to the panel on women's crafts in fantasy, which utilized P.C. Hodgell only a little. Mostly it was history and plausibility stuff. Despite my poor ability to string words together, I managed to bring imperialism and slavery into the discussion. It was Wiscon. And at the end I got to tell Joanna my wild-ass theory about PNW folks' treatment of the hair of their wool dogs to improve its spinnability! I hardly ever get to drag that out!
Headache continued, probably due to complete lack of medication on my part. Availed myself of the No Molestar sign and tried to nap for a couple of hours. Rubbed my head and neck. Eventually got up and saw lots and lots of migraine sparks, yay fucking hooray. It got better after that, though.
(Interjection from Denver-Seattle plane: OMG Ted Chiang is on this flight. I am not sitting next to him, alas, but there is genius all over everything. For this, I will turn my laptop ALL THE WAY OFF.)
I didn't really have time to go to the Botanical Garden after all that naptime, but I wanted to find the lake area that I'd been to in the very early morning one previous Wiscon, which I'd totally failed to get to with
rushthatspeaks. I did re-find Quisling Terrace, which we'd seen and laughed about on the way to frat row, though, and took a picture. And it turns out to be quite easy to get to the park, just a few more blocks down than we'd gone. Hopefully I'll remember the way next time, though I've now completely blanked on the cross streets. I finished my cheese curds and ate some more Silly Yak bread in the breezy shade by the lake.
I don't normally like to talk to random people, but a scruffy older guy named Art was so nice about sitting in my tree-shade and talking to me almost too softly to hear that I had a conversation with him. He said he was a Vietnam vet and didn't like to think about it too much, so he wanted to be in my half of the park away from the Memorial Day speechifyin' at the other end. (Um, the "speechifyin'" part is all me; his English was very standard, but the term seems appropriate. Especially since it eventually turned into bagpipe music.) He was sweet, if weird, and got all thrilled that my work might help make drought-resistant plants. I'd given him my middle name, which I always do with people I don't know, but when he came back from finding me a four-leafed clover, he hollered "hey biologist!" anyway. Before he left he asked me if I'd shine in the world when he was gone, and I said yes. So I kinda feel like I was meant to have a headache today, you know? There's a four-leafed clover pressed in a Room of One's Own bookmark in my bag right now. I guess Ted Chiang should be pretty safe.
Wandered a little, got a giant smoothie, came back to the hotel and read a bit, took the shuttle to the airport. And found out I'd read 6:50 as 6:05. Sheesh. Spent a LOT of time in the Madison airport.
