threadwalker (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
threadwalker) wrote2010-01-10 05:07 pm
threadwalker) wrote2010-01-10 05:07 pm
Entry tags:
Post 12th Night Post
The event was fun. I got to see a lot of fabulous friends, long-absent friends, and made some brand new ones.
The "bird cage hat" was very eye catching.
F kept asking me, 'Are you sure you're going to wear it?' Friday night, so I was ready for the cries of horror, "e-gads, run! it's a crime against all that is beautiful and sane in the costuming world". Surprisingly, I got a lot of nice feedback. I suspect most of that comes from people being impressed that I'd actually have the guts to make it and then wear it in public. There is a certain amount of, "Wow! you are so gutsy for making a shameless fool of yourself for our benefit."
Anyway, I kept forgetting how big it was because unlike everyone else, I couldn't see it - I was inflicting it on everyone without having to actually look at it. hahahahaha! When I got a glimpse of myself in a mirror I would have a mini-heart attack at how big it was because it did NOT look that big while it was in my workshop for the last several months. But there it was, big as life and on my head with all its feathery glory.
When asked what I had inside it, various responses provided on my behalf (by loved ones) included:
-brains
-alien seed pods
-the ashes of my enemies
-hot air
-recording devices, (so be NICE!)
-rainbows (lol... actually NO ONE suggested that, but did you choke when you read that?)
I came up with, "Evil Schemes". heh.
I noticed that when I moved my head, people were distracted by the feathers and couldn't keep their eyes off it. Stacey said, while gazing at it (in awe? fear? disbelief?) that it's so distracting she kept forgetting that I was the person wearing it. Under the hat I became invisible! It came to me that I could be commiting the crime of the century in that hat and no one would remember it was me as long as I ditched the hat afterwards. That evening the hat got us a fast dinner table, prompt dinner service and free drinks in the hotel restaurant courtesy of one Hilton Gold Card Member who was overwhelmed and impressed and wanted to do something nice for the hat. I made F say nice things about the hat at that point.
During the after party I fell in with a band of rogue seamstresses and historical research fans who wanted to see inside the hat, so it became a show and tell item as several people tried it on and peered inside.
Many have asked about the inspiration of the hat. I have many of my books flagged and I plan on pulling together my notes and presenting something later on. I'll give a heads up when I do that.
Real world vs Snow Globe World
I found myself reflecting on the melodrama of the SCA this morning.
After a big event like 12th Night there's always some chatter about which friendships are now null, which ones have been created, who's mooching the beer, who hooked up, who's got angst, etc. That kind of information is useful so that I don't accidentally create a social situation where I invite 2 arch enemies to a party and seat them together or let the beer-mooch get away without bringing libation donation (hee hee hee). But other than that, I'm not really the go-to gal for that stuff and I'm a bad source if someone wants to know what's going on because it has a short shelf life in my brain. It's just not important enough to dedicate permanent brain-space to.
I hear the gossip and I wonder if the people who are all whipped up actually have day-jobs because, frankly, I can't muster the energy to care. I guess my list of priorities does not start with, "take over the SCA" or "convince everyone in the SCA that my dream is THEIR dream" or "collect posse of ass kissers". LOL.
I have a job, a house, a spouse, kids, a family (which includes my beloved Villa Luna family), and friends. My muse and I are rocking out in my workshop. I'm running and taking care of myself. I'm going to put together some costume-textile classes which I will offer up to the SCA. I'm planning some hands-on classes at my house this year. And somewhere *much* further down that list, below my recycling goals and efforts to be more "green", is "Give a fuck about (insert: high school shenanigan) in the SCA". It hit me this weekend that there are a bunch of people whose SCA goals are clearly at the top of their list and I was shocked at the amount of energy they put into gaining good opinions, schmoozing the right people, and trying to find out what others think about them. Really? Really! Wow! That's what you spend your time worrying about? And here I was thinking "get out of debt so that I don't end up on the street if I lose my job" was a worthy item to keep me awake at night.
And this got me to thinking about an encounter I had early Sunday morning. The King of Atenvelt, the lean blond guy married to Ossa, barges into my friends' hotel room demanding a party and drinks after 3 am with others in tow, including the Queen of the West. We were sitting in pairs having small, quiet conversations. I pipe up with, "This is a private gathering, not a party." He stomps over to me and, with Mr Serious Face on, leans into me and with a super stern voice says, "Are you saying we have to leave?"
If you've read any of my work posts, you know that I am an old hand at recognizing and dealing with men who use intimidation tactics, which is what I was being dished.
Why is that acceptable behaviour? Am I supposed to be cowed? Do others get up and kiss his drunken ass and serve him a drink? I live in the real world and rudeness is not rewarded in my world. In fact, it shouldn't be acceptable in the SCA, where we are supposed to be encouraging courtesy and where, frankly, I expect the Royals to lead by example, not to lead in with expectations of entitlement. It is not my job to drop what I am doing to entertain people, especially people who have fewer manners than a first grader. If my kids had barged in and interupted the important private conversation I was having with one of my best friends like this guy did, I'd have smacked their bottoms and sent them to their room for collosal failure.
My response to this guy was an unblinking, unflinching, "Yes," delivered like I do at work in similar situations. He turned on his heal and marched out and his entourage followed. To quote my senior apprentice, "Ver!"
What kind of fantasy world do you live in where you can stomp around the place like that and be a bully? Being a peer, a royal, or an officer in the SCA should not be justification for being a bully. In fact, there's a rumor that being a Royal in the SCA doesn't legally mean anything in the big people world where taxes are paid and gasoline is taxed. Do they know that? Maybe someone needs to tell them that the SCA is a hobby and letting an SCA accolade go to your head or using it to justify entitlement is just plain crazy. Or maybe it's just that they live in their own little snow globe, set apart from the rest of the world where they have achieved their posse of ass-kissers, taken over the SCA, and convinced everyone that their dream is the only dream.
It's fascinating like a train wreck is mesmerizing and although snow globe world doesn't impress me, the behaviour and lack of connection to reality I see in the snow globites fuels my motivation to keep trying to raise my kids to be better than that. I don't want them to join some social club like the SCA, an RPG, on-line game group, etc, and submerge the real needs of paying bills and surviving in the tax-paying world in favor of some fantasy world that only exists in the snow globe of their social group. I also fear any kind of cult-like domination where their self-esteem becomes beholden to someone else and they could be convinced that their value is based purely on their ability to get a +4 battle axe to the Guild Raid Leader fast enough or provide enough painted figs to the Game Master or fetch a beer for the King. I'm not reliving high school for the rest of my life and I don't want my kids to either when they grow up.
Although everyone else is welcome to their own custom snow globes, I won't be climbing in with you and redefining myself based on spurious feedback from egos inflated by a micro-culture that is disconnected from the bottom tiers of Maslows Hierarchy of Needs.
The "bird cage hat" was very eye catching.
F kept asking me, 'Are you sure you're going to wear it?' Friday night, so I was ready for the cries of horror, "e-gads, run! it's a crime against all that is beautiful and sane in the costuming world". Surprisingly, I got a lot of nice feedback. I suspect most of that comes from people being impressed that I'd actually have the guts to make it and then wear it in public. There is a certain amount of, "Wow! you are so gutsy for making a shameless fool of yourself for our benefit."
Anyway, I kept forgetting how big it was because unlike everyone else, I couldn't see it - I was inflicting it on everyone without having to actually look at it. hahahahaha! When I got a glimpse of myself in a mirror I would have a mini-heart attack at how big it was because it did NOT look that big while it was in my workshop for the last several months. But there it was, big as life and on my head with all its feathery glory.
When asked what I had inside it, various responses provided on my behalf (by loved ones) included:
-brains
-alien seed pods
-the ashes of my enemies
-hot air
-recording devices, (so be NICE!)
-rainbows (lol... actually NO ONE suggested that, but did you choke when you read that?)
I came up with, "Evil Schemes". heh.
I noticed that when I moved my head, people were distracted by the feathers and couldn't keep their eyes off it. Stacey said, while gazing at it (in awe? fear? disbelief?) that it's so distracting she kept forgetting that I was the person wearing it. Under the hat I became invisible! It came to me that I could be commiting the crime of the century in that hat and no one would remember it was me as long as I ditched the hat afterwards. That evening the hat got us a fast dinner table, prompt dinner service and free drinks in the hotel restaurant courtesy of one Hilton Gold Card Member who was overwhelmed and impressed and wanted to do something nice for the hat. I made F say nice things about the hat at that point.
During the after party I fell in with a band of rogue seamstresses and historical research fans who wanted to see inside the hat, so it became a show and tell item as several people tried it on and peered inside.
Many have asked about the inspiration of the hat. I have many of my books flagged and I plan on pulling together my notes and presenting something later on. I'll give a heads up when I do that.
Real world vs Snow Globe World
I found myself reflecting on the melodrama of the SCA this morning.
After a big event like 12th Night there's always some chatter about which friendships are now null, which ones have been created, who's mooching the beer, who hooked up, who's got angst, etc. That kind of information is useful so that I don't accidentally create a social situation where I invite 2 arch enemies to a party and seat them together or let the beer-mooch get away without bringing libation donation (hee hee hee). But other than that, I'm not really the go-to gal for that stuff and I'm a bad source if someone wants to know what's going on because it has a short shelf life in my brain. It's just not important enough to dedicate permanent brain-space to.
I hear the gossip and I wonder if the people who are all whipped up actually have day-jobs because, frankly, I can't muster the energy to care. I guess my list of priorities does not start with, "take over the SCA" or "convince everyone in the SCA that my dream is THEIR dream" or "collect posse of ass kissers". LOL.
I have a job, a house, a spouse, kids, a family (which includes my beloved Villa Luna family), and friends. My muse and I are rocking out in my workshop. I'm running and taking care of myself. I'm going to put together some costume-textile classes which I will offer up to the SCA. I'm planning some hands-on classes at my house this year. And somewhere *much* further down that list, below my recycling goals and efforts to be more "green", is "Give a fuck about (insert: high school shenanigan) in the SCA". It hit me this weekend that there are a bunch of people whose SCA goals are clearly at the top of their list and I was shocked at the amount of energy they put into gaining good opinions, schmoozing the right people, and trying to find out what others think about them. Really? Really! Wow! That's what you spend your time worrying about? And here I was thinking "get out of debt so that I don't end up on the street if I lose my job" was a worthy item to keep me awake at night.
And this got me to thinking about an encounter I had early Sunday morning. The King of Atenvelt, the lean blond guy married to Ossa, barges into my friends' hotel room demanding a party and drinks after 3 am with others in tow, including the Queen of the West. We were sitting in pairs having small, quiet conversations. I pipe up with, "This is a private gathering, not a party." He stomps over to me and, with Mr Serious Face on, leans into me and with a super stern voice says, "Are you saying we have to leave?"
If you've read any of my work posts, you know that I am an old hand at recognizing and dealing with men who use intimidation tactics, which is what I was being dished.
Why is that acceptable behaviour? Am I supposed to be cowed? Do others get up and kiss his drunken ass and serve him a drink? I live in the real world and rudeness is not rewarded in my world. In fact, it shouldn't be acceptable in the SCA, where we are supposed to be encouraging courtesy and where, frankly, I expect the Royals to lead by example, not to lead in with expectations of entitlement. It is not my job to drop what I am doing to entertain people, especially people who have fewer manners than a first grader. If my kids had barged in and interupted the important private conversation I was having with one of my best friends like this guy did, I'd have smacked their bottoms and sent them to their room for collosal failure.
My response to this guy was an unblinking, unflinching, "Yes," delivered like I do at work in similar situations. He turned on his heal and marched out and his entourage followed. To quote my senior apprentice, "Ver!"
What kind of fantasy world do you live in where you can stomp around the place like that and be a bully? Being a peer, a royal, or an officer in the SCA should not be justification for being a bully. In fact, there's a rumor that being a Royal in the SCA doesn't legally mean anything in the big people world where taxes are paid and gasoline is taxed. Do they know that? Maybe someone needs to tell them that the SCA is a hobby and letting an SCA accolade go to your head or using it to justify entitlement is just plain crazy. Or maybe it's just that they live in their own little snow globe, set apart from the rest of the world where they have achieved their posse of ass-kissers, taken over the SCA, and convinced everyone that their dream is the only dream.
It's fascinating like a train wreck is mesmerizing and although snow globe world doesn't impress me, the behaviour and lack of connection to reality I see in the snow globites fuels my motivation to keep trying to raise my kids to be better than that. I don't want them to join some social club like the SCA, an RPG, on-line game group, etc, and submerge the real needs of paying bills and surviving in the tax-paying world in favor of some fantasy world that only exists in the snow globe of their social group. I also fear any kind of cult-like domination where their self-esteem becomes beholden to someone else and they could be convinced that their value is based purely on their ability to get a +4 battle axe to the Guild Raid Leader fast enough or provide enough painted figs to the Game Master or fetch a beer for the King. I'm not reliving high school for the rest of my life and I don't want my kids to either when they grow up.
Although everyone else is welcome to their own custom snow globes, I won't be climbing in with you and redefining myself based on spurious feedback from egos inflated by a micro-culture that is disconnected from the bottom tiers of Maslows Hierarchy of Needs.
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I make my own magic, though. I met the most wonderful gals in court. ONe was sitting there doing counted cross stitch, so I introduced myself and asked questions. They had no idea who I was and I'm pretty sure they were too new to recognize the laurel medallion. They were a total pleasure to chat with, totally excited to be there, and completely excited to be talking to someone who was interested in what they were doing. I think other than the moments I spent snuggling with my hubby, that one will stay with me as a highlight.
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