Here I am in Grapevine, Texas, at the Texas Frightmare Weekend. Day One is over. Well, it’s over for me. I suppose there are parties going on somewhere in the hotel, but the people I know aren’t staying here. And, frankly, I ain’t up to it. I ended up at the doctor’s the other day because it felt like somebody was pounding me in the head with a board. Turns out I had a nasty sinus infection. I’m much better now, but still trying to catch up on sleep.

Anyway, Day One was … eh. I sold three books. Got here at 10:30 a.m., met up with Chris and Angeline, we got our table set up, then found out the dealers’ room didn’t open until 6 p.m. So we ate. I went to the record store in what’s supposed to be a spectacular mall. It’s a freakin’ mall. Unless there are zombie wandering around in it, I’d really rather be somewhere else. But, I bought Iced Earth’s Framing Armageddon and a Judas Priest three-pack that includes Hero, Hero, Rock-a-Rolla and one of their best, Sad Wings of Destiny. Came back to the hotel and crashed until Amanda called to tell me what she made on her spelling test today (I promised to bring her something if she made a certain grade, and she did). Umm, crashed again, then went back to the table and hung out for five hours watching people pass. I wanted to put up a sign referring to our books as “unmade movies” to see if that would help sales. You could pretty much see people’s eyes glaze over as they realized we’re selling books instead of pirated or used DVDs or other movie memorabilia.

So, I could have gone to work today and come here after work and not have missed anything. However, after my 4th period meltdown yesterday, I think me and my students needed a day apart. My class from hell pushed too far on Thursday and I cut loose on them. I not only silenced them, but apparently had the full attention of the class next door, too. Not my proudest moment, but I think it’ll mark a turning point. It will for me, anyway. No more mercy, no more threats. Do what I say, or get the fuck out of my classroom. (No, I won’t phrase it exactly that way.)

Not sure how I got there when I meant to talk about the convention. I suppose because, so far, there hasn’t been anything worth talking about at the convention. Sure, I was within four feet of George A. Romero, but, awesome as he is, that doesn’t really do much for me any more. Salma Hayek would be a different story …

I should stop before I get myself in trouble.