Con Virgin

Yesterday, I headed over to a steampunk convention. As some of you know, I'm really interested in subcutltures, and steampunk is one of the newest around. I wanted to do a little amateur anthropology work.
But one of the things that happened was that I ran into my old friend Jack, who I went to high school with. It was through him that I heard about the convention.
Jack's a transman, which means that he's going through a transition right now. He's really cool. He mentioned to me that he wants to go back and see a particular teacher, but since he's begun taking hormones (his voice is very different now), he's a little worried about going back to see that teacher. Not so much because that teacher would hate him, but because it might be a little bit of a shock.
I know if I was in Jack's position, I would feel really awkward about it too. I told him that if he went with a group of friends (we all sat together in the back) or someone gave the teacher warning, it might be fine. I didn't think about it at the time, but I probably should have offered to go with him. Hell, I'd even be polite to my ex-boyfriend to get this to work for Jack.
Anyway, I digressed before I even got started on what I wanted to say. The steampunk convention was really cool. There was a merchants room, and I saw all sorts of cool costumes and props and other nerdy things for sale. Even though I had a fair amount of moolah on me, I always feel like I should be very careful what I buy. (NO impulse purchases.) So I mostly looked. There were some beautiful hats and costumes for sale, and they were very expensive looking. I actually managed to make myself a pretty decent costume just out of the stuff I have in my closet. The only thing I really need to do is to improve this look is maybe add an accessory or two to make it more steampunk-y. I collected tons of fliers and business cards, so I'm hoping that there will be people for me to go to for more stuff, should I decide to buy it. I'm a big believer that it's never too early to start making wishlists for Christmas or your birthday.
The only thing I ended up buying were some clip on magnifying glasses. Basically, one of the most important parts of a steampunk costume is the goggles. But of course these goggles have a very particular design, one that suctions down on each eye, making them less than ideal for those of us who wear glasses full time. So, even though this is one nerdy subculture, you can't help but feel, as someone who wears glasses, that you're being discriminated against once again. But they also make these handy magnifiers you can clip to your glasses to give you a steampunk look and still use your prescription lenses.

I'm also thinking that maybe I should use one of my belts and just buy a few simple add-ons, like a flask or jar or gun holster (with gun, obviously) and that will look way more steampunk than some of the other people I saw there. Steampunk is all in the accessories.
Matt and I headed over to the game room for part of the convention. We played the game Arkham Horror, which is based on the Lovecraft stories. It was this big, impressively complicated game involving investigators trying to stop monsters from destroying the town. The representative showing this game looking like he belonged in a mobster movie and smelled like Burger King fries.
100 posts! Which would probably be more impressive if I hadn't skipped two days of posting, just because there hasn't been much going on or too much going on for me to get to room in the day to post something.

Ballbuster

Update today on Grandma: Turns out when we went to see her this afternoon, she didn't go to therapy. That's the entire point of being there. She was in her pajamas, asleep in a chair. My Mom made her change and marched her down there and made her do stuff.
Her therapist is really nice. My Mom mentioned that I had just graduated. "High school?" she asked.
Damn, if only. "No, I just finished up at Michigan State."
I have maintained for a long time that I look younger than I am. When I was in the seventh grade, one nasty piece-of-work eighth grader asked me if I was seven. Even now, I think I easily pass for much younger. When I mentioned this once to Dan, he disagreed with me (in a rare change up for him, it was one of the least diplomatic things he's ever said to me. International relations could use someone like him.) But ha, I'm right, case closed. Even a therapist says so.
But I digress. What's really heartbreaking is how my Grandma has basically given up the will to live. She doesn't want to do anything anymore, even the simple important stuff, like combing your hair or eating or walking. She fought with the therapist the entire time about walking with a walker and using a bike to exercise. At one point, she put her head down and cried. I've never seen her cry. Even when her husband died, her reaction was to be a pain in everyone's ass, take cold medication, harass her godson about his hair follicle situation and yell at her husband's corpse every chance she got.
The therapist asked what she was like when she was younger. "A ballbuster," I thought. I remember her being really harsh, and supposedly, I was a favorite and she softened as she got older. I can only imagine how difficult she was when she was at her prime.
I realized in October that this is one of the few good things about her dementia: it's erased ninety percent of her personality. She's still difficult sometimes, but in sort of a passive way. She just doesn't do whatever you asked her to do, but if you try to have a conversation with her, she'll sort of just tell you what you want to hear and keep on doing whatever. Before, she'd yell and carry on and actively try to make things harder on you. The whole passive thing is frustrating in its own way, but at least you don't get sworn at. In more than one language.
I find myself really annoyed with this whole thing, and then I feel bad because I've done pretty much nothing to help. Not because I didn't want to, mind, but because I was up at school dealing with at least seven other problems, most of them interpersonal. Which is also why I feel guilty about living at home again. I feel like my Mom would really appreciate me not being a layabout. If I was gone, she could at least delude herself into thinking I was being successful.
Also, my Grandma has a roommate at this place, and she irks me even more. The woman plays her tv SO LOUD. Like, it even gives me a headache, and I'm not the kind for headaches and am one of those teenagers who blasted their ears with the likes of Nirvana, AFI, and Alkaline Trio. The hell if I can hear. I would like to read my science book in peace without being distracted by some irritating design show about people with stupid condos who are way overpriced.