A Ren Faire is all about living a fantasy. We dress in costumes and show far more cleavage than is tasteful in an effort to be a part of some collective wishful thinking. A create-your-own medieval Disney world full of other people with the same dream, grasping and groping for the things that, in the real world, have eluded us. Romance. Respect. Control. Power. Hedonism.
Who ever said we outgrow the need for make-believe? Or that our insecurities don't follow right along behind us, no matter what world we're currently adventuring in?
I get terribly worked up about these affairs. As if the dreams in my head have a reasonable chance of coming to life because I'm going to a Ren Faire. But a part of me can't quite let go of that secret hope. That maybe, if I can just get the right costume... well, you can guess where that thought leads, to a belief in the possibility of the suspension of the laws of the natural world--at least as far as pudginess and shyness are concerned. Forgive me while I heave a very large sigh, here.
I am Charlie Brown and the Ren Faire is Lucy with her football. Experience reminds me what's inevitable, but does that mean I can finally say no to the temptation of divine intervention? Charlie Brown couldn't and neither can I. Maybe this year...
Posts
