Apparently I'm going to the SPN Con in Vancouver in August. I'm currently exhausted and sore and bitchy, so this is sort of just affecting me as a haze of excitment and a paranoia-driven need to start planning. And also as a need to write a prose-ode to my father.
He's coming with me. And by coming with me I mean he offered to ride along with me through six hours of what will likely be extreme shakiness, fangirling happiness and nerves. And then drive back with me being flaily, shaky, happy, tired and probably loud. I should make sure he drives. I would like to make certain that everyone knows three facts about my dad. 1. He's a truck driver who's extremely down to earth and practical. 2. He likes to try to be more redneck then he actually is. 3. He used to just frown in confusion when I talked about anything I was obsessed with.
Now he's attempting to tease me about my obsession and talking me into paying for photo-ops and things. oh my god I need to find something for Misha to sign. I sort of want to have him sign one my published poems because they're the thing I'm most proud of but would that be weird an awkward?
Also I couldn't display it and frame it and reach for it first if there's ever a fire.
So yeah. Go Dad, who will likely sit through the panels in bemusement and be totally weirded out by any and all fangirl madness but offered to go because SPN is what we bond through.
/End of bemusement/happiness/what-the-fuckness/flailing/nonsensical words through a haze of fatigue