lydamorehouse: (Default)

A very unstable LEGO gummie tractor made from a packet picked up at con
Image: A very unstable LEGO gummie tractor made from a packet picked up at Minicon (GPS room)

My second (and last, as it happens,) day at MInicon was a real mixed bag and I am, in fact, still sorting out a lot of how I feel about it. As I noted in the previous post, most of my panels (4 out of 5) felt no better than 'meh,' with at least two of them sinking to 'is this an unmitigated diaster??? I think this might be a disaster!!' in my book.

But, it's possible that my standards out of whack. And, at least one person in the audience of one of the panels I thought was possibly The BIGGEST trainwreck, actually said that most of what I told her about privately was not at all visible to the audience (which is good!) She had a great time and thought the panel was fun. The problem may just be me.

So, take everything below with a very large heaping of salt.

 
Saturday

My first panel on Saturday wasn't until 11:30 am and so Shawn and I did our usual alliterative errands. We went to the cardborad recycling place, the coffee shop and stopped for cardamom spinners at Brake Bread (yes, spelled like that. They are a drive-up and bicycle delivering--as in, home deliveries by bicycle--bakery, so it's the screeeeeeeech of braking suddenly that they are evoking, along with the pun on breaking bread, of course, I believe.)  But, so I got to have fancy coffee and fancy food before heading off to Bloomington and the convention.

My first panel of the day yesterday was the one I was most concerned about, "The Monkey King Travels West." While I was willing to name names in the previous post, I am going to be a little more circumspect in this post, since the person I had the most issues with will very likely be the one to decide if I'm on paneling again next year. 

I can't even say that the pre-panel chatter started well.

I was, at least, delighted to have Delia I. to my left and Anna W. to my right. CW: transphobia )

Because, once we got underway, I was still upset on Phoenix's behalf and on behalf of all the queer folks in the room (including myself) and so I was not really in the mood to try to follow the moderator's questions, some of which seemed a bit rambling and all over the place. Like, was this about the legendary figure of the Monkey King or was it about the cross-pollenation between Eastern media and Western and vice versa? The answer seemed to be [cue: meme] "Both! Why not both?"Which might have worked if the moderator had a better hypothesis, you know? Instead it was, as I said, disjointed at best and, of course, I was struggling to engage.  This moderator, too, has a tendency to hog the microphone, which is generally not considered best practices.

Let's just say I was happy when it was over and I fled.

Delia I. was hot on my heels. Delia had heard that there was a potato/taco bar in the GPS room happing RIGHT NOW, and so, having connected up with [personal profile] naomikritzer who was waiting for me outside the programming area, we all headed for much needed food and debriefing. We spent a huge amount of time in the GPS room, actually, talking to the various folks there and trying to build gummy LEGO vehicles from the packets they had available. Despite the picture above, mine was not successful in the room. We had all postulated that the gummies might work better if they were colder/stiffer, and that proved to be true of the leftover pack I took away with me--my fingers had been all over it, trying to build something (so, OF COURSE, I  had to take it home!) 

I ran off around 1 pm to meet up with one of my new pen pals, Roger P., who is actually in a gaming group with [personal profile] caffeine , who is someone else I had a tremendous amount of fun with spending time with at con (and getting to see pictures of the newest grandbaby!) Roger was not at con, so we met at a nearby (walkable) Caribou. Roger turned out to be just my sort, so we probably chatted for an hour or more? He brought a book that he wanted me to sign and so I did that. It was a nice break to get OUT of the con, too.

Surprisingly, Naomi was just where I left her so we continued to hang out there for much of the afternoon. We'd been thinking about going out to get Szechuan at a place Naomi loves and, in retrospect, I wish we had. We ended up having a great time in the hotel restraunt continuing our conversation with Aaron V G, but the service and the food were... iffy. Naomi and I both ordered the butternut squash ravioli, and this is what we got:


Mediocre food masquerading as froo-froo
Image: Mediocre food masquerading as froo-froo.

The dark droozle of stuff was, I think, supposed to be balsamic something or other, but, insted, tasted like something WAY too sweet. It was edible, but, honestly, only barely. We also lost our server for a long time (I did not even see her flitting about taking care of other people in the restaurant) and I had to flag down another server (who actually turned out to be the manager) and see if we could order more food, etc., etc. I mean, at least this I understand. The hotel probably had a lot of trouble getting people who wanted to work on the Saturday before Easter Sunday. And, I mean, no harm, really. Thank goodness I had HOURS before I needed to be at my 7 pm panel.

Even though I would have missed the company, I do think the two of us would have been better off at Szechuan. 

At some point in here, I also wandered the Dealer's Room and happened to stumble across the author of O Human Star, Blue Delliquanti. [personal profile] jiawen recommended this web comic to me and it is AMAZING (and made me cry the good tears.) I had an absolute fucking fan squee freak out to actually meet Blue in-person. I may have said something stupid like, "Wait, wait, YOU wrote THIS??" which, I mean, why else would someone be sitting behind a display of the graphic novel set? Anyway, I gushed pretty incoherently at Blue about their art and stories and then I absolutely blew the budget I was set by buying all three volumes of O Human Star and had them sign them. 

I was wearing my ConFABulous t-shirt and so Blue mentioned that they thought they might like to attend that con sometime, and so I gave them my pitch for Gaylaxicon which is what ConFABulous will be THIS year. I need to remember to follow-up today and make sure to have John T. or Don K. reach out to them.

I am sure I am missing a bunch of other stuff that happened in here, but now we move on to Disaster #2, "The Pitfalls and Benefits of Writing Humor."

We were down a moderator because the person who was supposed to take that role was, I believe, sick or otherwise unable to come to con. I was a little thrown at the beginning of the panel when Wesley suggested that the audience boo the missing panelist, but okay. We all joked that we should take turns moderating and so Wesley assigned himself the role of "the one who reads the panel description," and I assigned myself the role of "the person who suggests we all introduce ourselves and picks who we start with." This was mostly all fine (booing aside,) and then... somehow the Monkey King came to haunt me again.

Again I am going to be a little more circumspect about the panelist I am about to discuss because she is actually a very good friend of mine, who I think just misstepped BADLY. 

But, y'all, it was bad.

CW: micro-agressions and racism )

I have NO IDEA what my friend says to Wesley or how he takes it, because I am intercepting Wesley's liason to let him know that Wesley might need a STIFF DRINK after this panel and this would be why.

I had two more panels to go before I could go home

Again, however, I asked a friend of mine who was in the audience how this whole scene played out to her, and I think we were really lucky that the microphones in that room were kind of crap and I'm not sure how sure how much of it was heard by anyone but the panelists and the first few rows. My friend was seated in the middle and said she tuned out the whole Monkey King thing because she had no interest in any of that and so had no idea anything had really happened. 

After the debacle that was the Humor panel, I flagged down one of my fellow panelists, Ozgur, for the next one ("The Restaurant at the End of the Book," for which I am the moderator) and asked him if he would be willing to be a stealth co-moderator, There is one panelist that could be a problem, and I had seen that person at the bar, so 50/50 they were sober. So, I said to Ozgur that if I seem to be floundering to please jump in and help me wrestle the topic back to plumb. He agreed.

Thus armed, I went into the next one.

Turns out? This was the best panel I was on all weekend. The panelist I was worried about? A perfect addtion to the panel, extremely lively in all the right ways. We stayed on topic with only a few, very natural diversions into related topics, like the history of certain foods, etc. I think panelists were happy because I asked those that created recipes for their books to share them, and at the end, I made sure that anyone who had things they wanted to plug had the opportunity to do so. Ozgur never had to rescue me, and, more importantly, IT WAS FUN.

My last panel was "Who is Voting for Team Rocket?" and our moderator decided to take that literally and had a fun little part at the end where we voted on various villains in various catagories and whoever suggested them won a small figurine that she had picked up at the dollar store. This panel did not pop, but it also did not fail, so it slotted in nicely to the 'it was okay' set of panels. 

What a wild damn ride.

This is not my usual experience at Minicon at all. I am blaming the Monkey King, because clearly I have displeased him with my lack of knowledge. Hopefully a penance of several chapters of A Journey to the West will put my life's vibe back in order.

Eyes!

Nov. 16th, 2021 01:55 pm
lydamorehouse: (Default)
 Shawn had the first of two cataract surgeries this morning. 

We had to drive into Minneapolis because her doctor operates out of the Philip's Eye Clinic. Rather than bother with the highway, we drove down Lake Street.  We saw TWO deer in the cemetery at Lake and Cedar, which is always cool.  The Eye Institute is between Chicago and Park Avenue, and so I drove past the site where Uncle Hugo's had been, which is now a sad, overgrown fenced, empty lot. I had been feeling bad that so many of the buildings here in Midway in St. Paul haven't been completely rebuilt, but Lake Street still looks so devestated by comparison. I was a little shocked and very heartbroken. Does the city not want to invest? There's that wonderful, colorful section of Mexican restaurants and shops and it just stood out as this joyful section and I thought how nice it would be if that vibrancy could return to the whole street.

At the Eye Center, we got checked in. I ended up at the reception desk a little longer than Shawn because I happened to be carrying our pharmacy card in my wallet. As I was fishing that out for the receptionist, someone's audio book started playing. They had clearly forgotten to plug in their headphone first because a VERY LOUD, clear voice started reading: "He was hard as a rock at the sight of her stiffening nipples...." 

Ah, whoops!

For me (and maybe this isn't fair,) this is made a bit funnier by the fact that the median age in that waiting room had to be 65. Which I mean, is not to old for porn enjoyment by any means, but it was a little like sitting through "American Gigalo" with your son's grandma (which I did up at Grand Rapids one year) while the BDSM scene is happening.

Shawn's surgery went fine.  I got really hungry at one point and so I broke down and risked vending machine food (they had a microwave and such in a little cafeteria area). I wanted to eat my food outside, but I was informed that if I went out the door would lock. Also, it was somehow UNSAFE. When I gave the receptionist the ??? face, she very seriously told me that "people had been hurt." I said, "Eating breakfast for five minutes outside on a Tuesday at 10 am?" She was like, "I'm sorry you don't agree, but also the pagers won't work if you leave the building." I did not want to eat indoors, since Minnesota is #1 in the nation for COVID infections right now, but I felt very bullied into staying indoors for the two minutes it took to gulp down my sandwich in the cafeteria. I should probably just have gone out to flaunt my ability to withstand BEING IN A BLACK NEIGHBORHOOD, which was clearly what this lady was dog whistling with her "we've had people get hurt" racist bullsh*t. 

Ironically, when I went to go get the car to pick up Shawn after the surgery, I saw a cluster of smokers beside the building and I was really, really tempted to yell out, "Hey, be careful, you know people have GOTTEN HURT!!," but I didn't because 1) didn't want to be accidentally taken seriously and/or perpetuate this racist crap and 2) it was only funny in my head.

Shawn is home now, asleep, after been fed a lovely lunch by me. I was upstairs under the covers with her for awhile, but I was feeling like I needed to try to get some work done today. She gets to take her eye patch off tonight around six pm.  Fingers crossed it all continues to go well.

Tonight I have an orientation zoom for the Q Quest presentation I volunteered to do tomorrow and Thursday. I should probably plan out my presentation at some point here today, as well. 

Stuff to do!

How are you all?
lydamorehouse: (??!!)
 ...Racism?

So, there I was at the bagel shop. It's a place I go to regularly enough that I know the names and life situations of several of the employees. We chat, like do you, about life, and one of the longtime employees there (someone I hugged when I found out her brother died) notices that I've gotten a haircut.  I happily take off my ball cap to show it off and start rambling, somewhat filterless because this is our first stop before I've even had coffee, and I start talking about how I might dye my hair.  I say that I've dyed my hair before. Then, I go on to blurt out this masterpiece: "My hair was blonder when I came up here to go to college and I looked around and saw that all Minnesotans are blond, so I dyed it black."

The second this ridiculous thing leaves my mouth I realize I'm the only white person in the room.

I have just said "ALL Minnesotans are blond," literally erasing everyone in that room, but my lily white self.

Wow.

Can I have a do-over, please?

I suspect I made things worse by clearly noticing my mistake, being so horrified that I don't try to apologize, but instead yammer on about other stupid things.  

I confessed all of this to my family in the car, of course. My plan is to try to apologize next week, and I will, but, damn it, the damage is done.

*I* was someone's micro-agression today.

Yippee.
lydamorehouse: (more renji art)
Mason and I had big plans for Friday. They were going to involve a massive amount of Bleach watching in an attempt to do more catch up. (My Bleach knowledge is spotty. I've got some holes in it because we're watching the Anime so slowly, yet I went ahead and started reading the latest stuff in JUMP. So, I don't really know much about what happens after Aizen's defeat and before the Thousand Year Blood War arc, or whatever they're calling the current thing.) At any rate, we got to the end which was tremendously satisfying, and then Mason got really disheartened when it looked like we were faced with yet-another-deadly-never-ending filler arc from hell.

So, to cheer him up, we went in search of red bean paste at the Hmongtown Market:

hmongtown sign

Obviously this is a stock photo because everything would be covered in inches of snow right now. I love living in a big city just for things like th Hmongtown Market. When I park my car in the muddy/snowpacked lot looking out at the collection of metal warehouses, I like to imagine my blue Ford is actually a Tardis/police box and that when I step out, we've traveled thousands of miles to arrive in an entirely new world. Once we're inside, it's really not that hard to believe. The language changes. The customs change. The food is authentic... and awesome.

hmongtown food

Mason, in fact, got the chicken wing combo from this restaurant and declared them, "The best chicken wings I have ever had" (and he's had quite a lot.) I've actually been craving sesame balls filled with bean paste. If I were a Bleach character, my answer to the favorite food question would be these:

sesame balls

OMG, teh LOVE. (Look! They're even making a HEART-SHAPE at me right now! Yes, Seasme Balls, I LOVE YOU TOO!!) At any rate, I know at least one Hmongtown vendor has them, so after getting Mason some bubble tea--a mango smoothy with "bubbles," I bought a double order. I am currently having a left-over one for breakfast. Yes, *that* is the depth of my love.

But, before we ate, we explored the tiny cramped stalls full of cosmetics, traidtional medicine ingredients, CDs, videos, and toys (saw some plushy Naruto and Pokemon dolls, Mason got a cheap ninja sword, but, alas, no Bleach gear. Not really a surprise, but there were a few Japanese animation videos there and a lot of Jackie Chan/Jet Let Golden Harvest/Hong Kong stuff.) I admired the rows and rows of traditional Hmong clothes, and marveled at the array of shoes IN MY SIZE--if I was the type for glittery high heels, Hmongtown Marketplace would be my source! We checked out the farmers market, which in this season meant they mostly had imports on offer--things like Chinese brocolli, leechies, bamboo, lemon grass, and fruits and veggies I had no idea what they were.

Mason was a little thrown until we got food. I think, perhaps, it was culture shock. I know what that's like. Hmongtown never gives it to me, even when I'm negotiating the price of the ninja sword with a woman with whom I don't share a common language beyond pointing and gestures, BUT, for some odd reason, whenever Shawn gets a craving for El Burrito Mercado on the East Side, I'm overcome by it. It's a weird feeling. It's probably some kind of internalized racism, but I feel very much like an invader on what I see as SOMEONE ELSE'S turf. I suddenly realize, "OMG. I'm white and no one else is!!" (The horror.) But, thankfully, I've gotten over it. Partly thanks to just going there a lot (because life without Burrito Mercado is hardly worth living), but also because of Facebook. I'm friends with El Burrito Mercado on Facebook and I've been utterly charmed by the fact that they woe me to their shop in English and Spanish and that they want me to come and experience dining in their cafe while being serenaded by a mariachi band (how awesome is THAT??) So, whenever I get that culture shock twinge and start to wonder if I'm really allowed/welcome, I can say to myself, "Hey, they INVITED me here. It's okay." It's odd that I don't get it at Hmongtown, nor really in the Samoli neighborhoods. Maybe I feel more privileged to experience Hmong culture for some reason, though I did grow up in a town with a lot of Hmong-Americans/new immigrants. Perhaps I worked through whatever predjudices that might have been lurking in my hindbrain throughout high school.

This is how it works, anyway. One experience at a time. I know that during the 80s and 90s, I was the ONLY out lesbian a lot of people knew personally, and that helped changed people's minds, started to break down the stuff you don't know you have until you face it. Those folks I met at work and whatnot got a chance to get over _their_ culture shock slowly when I made them feel welcome by inviting them to peek into my world just a little.

I'm glad we stayed for food because not only did I get my bean paste, but Mason also got to feel a little uncomfortable for a while. Like I say, it's one of my favorite things of living in a big city--I love to be able to step outside my own neighborhood and walk into someone else's world for a while. It's marvelous.

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