Someone asked me recently if I, the consummate list-maker, had a list of movies I was slowly working through in order to learn more about modern cinema. In a nutshell: yes, but only since last week, when you first mentioned it to me.

These are movies released within the last ten years—and yes, it's going to take me a long time to see all of these. But, nevertheless, here they are.

Edmund has apparently decided that, despite our trimming his claws an hour ago, we're still worthy of being shown his cute and cuddly side. As I type, he is lying in his accustomed perch to my right, curled up in a position that is neither on his side nor on his back, but a combination of the two. He has a paw draped over his nose in an attempt to block out the light from the ceiling fixture.

It wasn't that he looked so different. Or, perhaps, so it was—in the beginning.

But beginning impressions—like all kicks to the gut—fade, even though the remembrance remains.

Backstage: it's not what you'd expect. It's more, it's less, it's completely different from what you've imagined. The world behind the curtain is very, very different from the world that the fans see.

It is three a.m. The glass in my hand is empty. I am neither drunk nor awake, sober nor exhausted; merely a place in between that defies explanation. It is three a.m., and the glass in my hand—filled only once—is now empty. I slept somewhere between one and two hours the previous night, and followed it up today by somewhere around sixteen straight hours of work at the convention.I am exhausted; the brutal floating exhaustion that leadens feet, shortens calf muscles, and makes my lower back ache.

Day 1 of dragon*con: lots of running around. At one time in the distant past I was concerned about how I'd find my way around the hotel and all of its different ballrooms. After a day of nonstop trotting, I know the answer: sheer repetition ingrains knowledge in everyone. Including me.