I feel horrible. Physically I’m okay, but the political sitch in the States is appalling, and I’m staying across the street from SeaTac, and people I know and love put their lives and sacred honour on the line this weekend to protest. It’s hard not to be worried.
I was so stressed I got up and ran away from the luncheon. I’ve been hiding in my room for most of the con; came out to open filk for about an hour, saw Char McKay’s concert, saw Vixy and Tony’s concert, but otherwise I’ve been feeling so sickened by the state of the world I want to hide and stay hidden.
Paul’s coming to get me later on this morning and I can go home – to work at 11 o’clock tonight. I flipped back to being diurnal this weekend so it’s gonna be ****ing carnage.
Fortunately, I have a Denis O’Leary and a Kellie Leitch to prevent from leading the Conservative party in Canada, Islamophobia to fight, and books to edit, and songs to write, and people to love on and feed and snuggle with, and a grandson who needs me to fight for the world he deserves. And a job. I can’t forget that. It’s not a good job, but it’s still worthwhile. I’ll be training the weekend midnights person tonight, apparently.