October 22, 1999.

Well, I crossed the final threshold of geekdom last night. Despite protestations that never in a million years would I be interested in such a thing, last night I buffed the hog of my own free will.

And least there weren't multi-sided dice involved.

What happened was this: about two weeks ago I was recruited by Q for the new game springing up. This particular game happens to be composed of at least 75% friends, including the Storyteller. It seemed like a relatively safe environment to get my little gaming feet wet. And of course, I've always been excited by the idea of skulking around pretending to be a vampire; have been since I was 16. In my mind, the "political" maneuverings of Game are less important than pretending to have retractable fangs.

And the character. I was totally excited about my character: Q wrote a cute little vampire story that seemed to incorporate enough "me" in it to be playable by my ephebian self. Besides, I was a secret until game time...the vampire jumping out of the cake, so to speak. Last Saturday I was given the total rundown, including strange powers & backstory. That night I dreamt about her. All week I've been studying gaming guides & giggling with suppressed joy: finally, I could understand the mysterious game talk at the Garden! And wouldn't the other players be surprised to see me!

Well, it wasn't quite like that. For one thing, the ones who knew about me in advance seemed to be the only ones especially excited that I was playing. For another, I didn't have enough status to be included in the important plot manipulations, even to the point of being able to sit in. So basically I slummed around in an old black party dress, made jokes about other people's funky attributes & wondered when I would get to do something. I didn't get to tear anyone's throat out. I didn't get to use any of my nifty attributes. Then again, the Boy wasn't allowed to do anything independently & got "horribly burnt." So I suppose I should be grateful.

School was really awful today. As in, I never want to see some of these kids again. Ever. Part of it is their age: 13 is a bad time for teachers of "normal" kids, let alone discipline cases. But most of it is that they're nasty & mean. And I find that hard to deal with, even once a week.