I decided that I wanted to go to SFcontario. My mother expressed surprise when I told her, pointing out that a few months ago I had mentioned wanting to go to a Doctor Who convention instead.
I knew I had a very good reason for picking SFcontario over Doctor Who. After all, I was the one who made the decision; the first person who had to be persuaded was me.
But I couldn’t think of it.
I told her that I’ve been wanting an excuse to go to Canada for a while now (true). I told her that it happens to have two authors who I really like in attendance, and how often is that going to happen (also true). I told her that Toronto is cooler than Chicago (debatable, as I have not been to either city and have not done any research on the subject).
But I could see that she wasn’t convinced, and (to be perfectly honest) neither was I. These were all pretty weak arguments for choosing SFcontario over Chicago TARDIS (though John Scalzi>the Doctor with the vegetable brooch any day).
It was only a few hours after the conversation had ended that I was able to remember my Super Compelling Reason; I’ve been reading the blogs of some SF authors for the past six months, and so I want to see these people in person.
There. That was easy, wasn’t it?
I love the show Doctor Who, but I don’t know much about, well, anyone who’s involved in it. I get excited about the concept, but not the people behind it. On the other hand, I read these authors’ books and follow their blogs. I hear through them about the ideas they have, the appearances they make, the readings they do, and I want to be involved. I want to see this stuff first hand.
Situations like this happens to me all the time. Someone says to me, “Why don’t you come over after work on Wednesday? We’ll go swimming.” And I know there’s a good reason why I can’t. I just can’t remember it.
I spew out a number of unconvincing arguments: it’s my day to cook dinner (it’s almost always my day to cook dinner), I think I left my bathing suit at my parent’s house (true, but then she offers to lend me one of hers), there’s a yarn sale I need to check out….
Weak, weak, weak. It’s only after the conversation’s ended that I remember my Super Compelling Reason; I’ve got a freaking doctor’s appointment on Wednesday.
What the hell, brain. Couldn’t you have supplied that before I got to the yarn excuse?