We spent the weekend in Des Moines, Iowa, at the science fiction convention, Demicon. I had a good time, although I did not attend a lot of panels. Strangely, it seemed that nearly every panel I wanted to attend was canceled. My husband thinks I must have been miserable all weekend, because I spent so much time in our hotel room.
He just doesn't get that I'm not a people person. I can do okay one-on-one, but the trick is to get that conversation going so I can ignore the other 45 people in the room. And at a place like this – a convention I've attended for several years – there are lots of people who look familiar, but (my mind is getting old and feeble so) I can't remember where I met them, what their interests are, or even what their name is. So I wandered out of our room a few times a day, sauntered through the art show, browsed through the dealer's room, and chatted with people, even if I couldn't remember their name. Happily, nobody caught on that I was having memory lapses.
When I got tired of that, I went back to our room and polished a short I've been working on, did some background on another universe I've been plotting out. I tried to reach a happy medium between what others expected from me and my own desires.
I had a good time, between the real people at the convention and the imaginary people in my computer in our room.