More Consonance
Mar. 9th, 2006 07:20 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
hrjSunday (somewhat belatedly)
There's something about my biorhythms that predisposes me to wake up at 5am if there's any disturbance in my sleep cycles. This is a problem if I only got home from the filking at 1am. But I turned the radio on low and got back to sleep until around 8. I think part of it is leaving the electric mattress pad on all night when it isn't really that cold (as opposed to just using it to pre-heat the bed). And part of it is general life stresses.
I forgot to mention yesterday the startling vision of snow caps on the east bay mountains when I was pointing east on my approach to the Consonance hotel. I think they were mostly melted today. This wasn't just Mt. Hamilton (the highest south bay peak) but the entire row of higher elevations.
I'd meant to finish up the con notes for Sunday promptly, but I pretty much crashed on Monday and have spent the rest of the week catching up. So Sunday I got back to the hotel mid-morningish and spend a couple hours pretty much just hanging out and working on my laptop. Oh, and mentioning to a clot of con-com members that I was feeling receptive to working on the convention again. (Actually, I'm amazed that they haven't been harassing me about getting back involved for the last couple years. Back when I was still playing the grad school card I got regular inquiries.)
After that, I settled into the concert room for the duration. The problem with writing things up days later is that the details have all gone entirely out of my head. I had a few hallway chats, especially with some of the out-of-town guests. Once more I conclude that I suck at this whole "getting to know people better" thing. Nothing quite like being told by someone, "You really have a lot in common with Person X -- the two of you should really get together sometime," when you've already tried to strike up conversations with Person X only to fall utterly flat. Ah well. I chalk up to the old alien-from-another-planet problem.
I scheduled dinner with Margaret and Kristoff, which meant hanging out until the rock jam was over, which was fine because I wasn't quite hungry enough earlier. We did the sushi-boat thing across the street -- my favorite dinner any time. (The sushi boat set-up means I can be adventurous on the impulse of the moment rather than having to plan my adventures in advance.) We hung out in their room for a while afterwards, chatting about old times and odd coincidences -- how we first hooked up with fandom and the like -- before going down to the dead dog party. The dead dog filk at Consonance often seems to be the most heavily attended non-concert event of the weekend. Hmm, probably because it is. There was a lot of jostling and jockeying for air time and I ended up only singing one song fairly early on. Someone wanted me to do "Animal Liberationist" as a follower to someone else's song, but I felt like taking it in the other direction and doing one of my rare airings of "Tonight" instead. (Ok, so "Tonight" isn't a particularly good song title, but the only other natural title for the piece is "Tomorrow's Open Grave" which is a bit too sledge-hammerish for me to like it.) I'd promised Kitty Crowe and Don Simpson a ride home, which was an adequate excuse to leave around midnight. No doubt someone will post a con report describing all the wonderful music and hilarious goings-on that started half an hour after I left, but I was already going to be pretty dead at work on Monday and there was the drive home to worry about.
And that was my Cosonance this year.
There's something about my biorhythms that predisposes me to wake up at 5am if there's any disturbance in my sleep cycles. This is a problem if I only got home from the filking at 1am. But I turned the radio on low and got back to sleep until around 8. I think part of it is leaving the electric mattress pad on all night when it isn't really that cold (as opposed to just using it to pre-heat the bed). And part of it is general life stresses.
I forgot to mention yesterday the startling vision of snow caps on the east bay mountains when I was pointing east on my approach to the Consonance hotel. I think they were mostly melted today. This wasn't just Mt. Hamilton (the highest south bay peak) but the entire row of higher elevations.
I'd meant to finish up the con notes for Sunday promptly, but I pretty much crashed on Monday and have spent the rest of the week catching up. So Sunday I got back to the hotel mid-morningish and spend a couple hours pretty much just hanging out and working on my laptop. Oh, and mentioning to a clot of con-com members that I was feeling receptive to working on the convention again. (Actually, I'm amazed that they haven't been harassing me about getting back involved for the last couple years. Back when I was still playing the grad school card I got regular inquiries.)
After that, I settled into the concert room for the duration. The problem with writing things up days later is that the details have all gone entirely out of my head. I had a few hallway chats, especially with some of the out-of-town guests. Once more I conclude that I suck at this whole "getting to know people better" thing. Nothing quite like being told by someone, "You really have a lot in common with Person X -- the two of you should really get together sometime," when you've already tried to strike up conversations with Person X only to fall utterly flat. Ah well. I chalk up to the old alien-from-another-planet problem.
I scheduled dinner with Margaret and Kristoff, which meant hanging out until the rock jam was over, which was fine because I wasn't quite hungry enough earlier. We did the sushi-boat thing across the street -- my favorite dinner any time. (The sushi boat set-up means I can be adventurous on the impulse of the moment rather than having to plan my adventures in advance.) We hung out in their room for a while afterwards, chatting about old times and odd coincidences -- how we first hooked up with fandom and the like -- before going down to the dead dog party. The dead dog filk at Consonance often seems to be the most heavily attended non-concert event of the weekend. Hmm, probably because it is. There was a lot of jostling and jockeying for air time and I ended up only singing one song fairly early on. Someone wanted me to do "Animal Liberationist" as a follower to someone else's song, but I felt like taking it in the other direction and doing one of my rare airings of "Tonight" instead. (Ok, so "Tonight" isn't a particularly good song title, but the only other natural title for the piece is "Tomorrow's Open Grave" which is a bit too sledge-hammerish for me to like it.) I'd promised Kitty Crowe and Don Simpson a ride home, which was an adequate excuse to leave around midnight. No doubt someone will post a con report describing all the wonderful music and hilarious goings-on that started half an hour after I left, but I was already going to be pretty dead at work on Monday and there was the drive home to worry about.
And that was my Cosonance this year.
