a different kind of dance
I wonder if I can take a stab at being a little more concise than my recent banter. But really, I don't want to. Holding back the words when they're there seems a wasteful sacrifice. If I have time to write, I feel blessed to take it. Somehow, even just recapping events makes me feel more sane. It's a form of medtation, a way of putting things in perspective, a grounding ritual. I've been asked by so many people what I want to "be" lately. Even though I just want to answer "nothing!" or "just me, thanks!" I still tell them I want to be a writer/journalist. And I do. I guess that still is me so, in a way, stopping the flow will make me less than a person. I sometimes wonder how much is too much. Then I realize that it can't be too much... if I paste most entries into Word and look at them single spaced, they rarely go beyond a few pages. My life is a narrative, retold. Is that so much to say?

I'm tired today but I only have another hour of work before I go lift some weights and go home. Tonight Justin and I need to get groceries and I want to maybe check out fabric stores for some linen to make an overskirt for my bar-wench outfit. I was going to write about this weekend and I probably still will but right now I feel much more meloncholy that I did when I started writing this. The low feeling can be accounted for mainly because I spent the last forty-five minutes to an hour reading some really, incredibly, unbelievably, depressing weblogs. If you're going to look at any of those, you may notice some common themes: 1) They're all pretty well written. (a blessing for a personal journal) 2) They're "pro-anorexic" sites (sites maintained by authors with eating disorders, most of them keeping their disorder "by choice"). One weblog I came across through Emily's link to the Thin Forum and I think it sparked some morbid fascination in me. I never knew there were so many people out there who were openly living with/ suffering from/ embracing their eating disorders. I guess I thought it was a "closet" thing. I'm still not sure what I think of these so-called "pro-ana" sites, but you know me, if I'm mildly curious about something I'll immerse myself in it rather deeply, sometimes not always for the best. I plan (and have, in fact, been planning since last week) to write a whole entry on my thoughts about eating disorders- a rather personal subject that I haven't ever really addressed here. THAT is for another time.
***: Edited 7/3: See footnote

So about last weekend....

The drive home was long. God, we left Richland at about 7:15 and didn't get back till 1:30. I drove most of the way all the way back to the house. I even stopped once on the way. I'm so proud of myself! Don't think I'm too weird; I can drive. It's just that I can't drive stick. Well, I'm learning and I think I've got it. I only get flustered when starting with another car behind me. I seem to be able to do it fine otherwise. So I drove from the Dalles to Eugene.... and I had a great time just playing and singing along to music while Justin was sleeping. There's something so free about night driving... so easy to go fast and feel like you're going so much faster. Justin was completely zonked after two days at the Faire. I was too, actually, even though I didn't have to stand around in 35 pounds of armor.

When we left Friday afternoon, it started raining. It didn't stop when we reached Portland. It didn't stop when we reached the Dalles. It didn't stop when we crossed the Columbia in to the badlands of Eastern Washington. It didn't stop when we passed Irrigon and when we got to Richland it was still raining. How does the weather service manage to miss a rain cloud the size of an entire state and predict the day will be "partly cloudy"? I'm confused. Ye Merry Greenwood Renaissance Faire was held in a city park on the banks of the Columbia. When we arrived it was dreary to add wet to more wet but by the end of the weekend we were glad of the proximity to water. We set up camp with the Knights and ended up splitting a tent with one of the other trainees (a guy from Justin's class) rather than setting up our own gear. It was a pretty slow night... mellow, rainy, humid... at least it was warm. I'd almost rather it'd been cold rain. My clothes stuck to my skin and my sleeping bag was too warm. It rained all night and in the morning, it stopped.

We kicked ourselves out of bed around 6:30; it was clearing up and the whole camp was stirring. Friday all the merchants had set up booths and the Players were practicing their acts. The night before, no one had been in garb, even those practicing dance, so it was a curious transition to wake up the next morning and see everyone in period costuming. Surreal, almost. Like most faires, the grounds were divided into merchant areas and stages. Various events were staged at various times. The Knights were performing three shows at some random interval of a few hours. I didn't see much of Justin, actually. Because he was in the show, he had to be on field during their performances even though he wasn't fighting much. After the acts, he and the other flunkies had to be in "Shoot a Knight" (or as he says, "Shooter Knight") and stand around while kiddies paid money to shoot them with blunted arrows. I came and hung out during these times but mostly let him schmooze with the crowd and enjoy himself. There was one archer girl who kept coming back just for kicks. I think she liked him. There was another young woman with a fan who seemed rather smitten with him and offered to buy him from his Sergeant several times. When he politely declined, she told him he broke her heart and smacked him with her fan. Somehow she never seemed to be around when I was there but showed up as soon as I was gone. I think he made her up to make himself feel better. ; )

It was an entirely different feeling, to be in garb and be a part of the show than it was to be a member of the audience. It's an amazing feeling, to be a participant in a living, moving play. The first day I didn't get as much of a taste of this as I did the second. Much to my surprise, I ran into Mel, a girl I knew from the dorms and who lives in Chase Village, near the beginning of the show. Then Murray showed up, as planned, and I walked around with him for a while. It was almost sensory overload trying to play the tourist and the insider at once. Looking at booths and then crossing the ropes into the Knights' area and back again made me feel a little strange. I still haven't learned to stay completely in character. And that's even just this one personality, I'm still working on two or three more!

Saturday night was a lot of fun. We didn't have to take anything apart so we just hung out with the Knights, drank a bit and played. The air was a bit cooler coming off the river, especially after it got dark, so we curled up in our tents fairly early, exhausted. The Players, merchants, and gypsies stayed up a bit later watching movies and fraternizing. There was a real camp cameraderie, even if there wasn't much socializing between groups. Makes me really want to go to Burning Man this year.

Sunday was a little different. I walked the faire alone and got to know several of the merchants and performers pretty well- a totally different perspective than any of the audience members ("mundanes," as they call them) would have. I picked up a few things to complete my outfit: a belt, a mug frog, a scarf, a wrist band and a pouch. A lot of these things were given as favors or flattery by merchants and friends. Apparently a big part of the faires is flirting and bartering. I should be more prepared next time! I'm also going to bring my money in Sacajaweas... gold coins are just so much more fun to toss out there!! I was amazed to find that, despite the size of the park, I was constantly busy and always on my feet. I don't think I ever sat down!! So many people talked to me that by the end I was simply tired of questions about myself an too addle-brained to ask any in return. Sometimes I get so tired of flattery and small-talk.

Watching the Knights was a blast, but being a part of the group was even more fun. I'm still a groupie or S.O. (significant other) so at times I feel left out. But I'm allowed priveleges with them that the general public would be smacked for doing. They're even nice enough to put my name on the gate lists so I get the mark of a faire staff. ^^ At the end of the day yesterday I helped tear down some booths and was paid for it. I think I may have actually made money on the fair... mostly due to the fact that I didn't buy any garb. The rest, really, is history.

The one thing that thrilled me the most about the faire was the amazingly playful pagan nature of it all. First, since I'm just coming into Wicca, I'm thrilled to be in a really open and accepting environment. Second and primarily, it was GREAT to see adults who played! Really, played! I'm glad growing up can be fun because I always imagined it (and usually see it) as a completely mundane experience. But here are grown men and women, playing a role but nonetheless being themselves, who love games and love being open and seeing another side to life. THAT's what I love about the Faires.

I'm sure I've forgotten too many things and by the end this post is really much less eloquent as I'd hoped it to be. I wanted to put more of my personal thoughts here but it turned out to be a rather simple account due to the fact that I was interrupted so many times and now I've got a headache from famine. Ugh. Time to go find something to eat and get out of here. More later : )

***Footnote: Apparently, this paragraph, in its original form, disturbed some of the journalists to which it was linked. For that, I apologize. I don't however, take back what I'm saying or thinking. I've edited the context of the linked sentence to remove the word "stupidly," because I think that's what some people assumed implied I was hating on them or bashing them. No, I find it depressing that there is so much self-induced suffering in this world. Having been there, it is an unpleasant reminder. The thought, in the edit, remains the same... by "stupidly," I mean I do find it stupid to do such things to your body. As much as it shouldn't be this way, you would be nothing without it. I admire persistence, tenacity, and stubborness... but not hanging onto a downward slide. I think there's enough in life to worry about. I'm glad I acquired a new audience and I'm glad I got feedback. : ) But really, this is not about you; this is about me. A word to the wise: life is so much gentler when you don't take things personally. (See The Four Agreements)

( see most recent entries for addendum to this thought- it was getting too long to tag onto the end of an old entry : )