Nobody's Cool, Put Down Your Nose

If you ever want to artificially jack up your internal sense of cool, go to a Renaissance Faire. Wait until you see a ruddy-faced chap in chainmail with a fake, padded sword and Coke-bottle glasses applying sunscreen and you’ll feel it. It’s a kind of hipster self-righteousness, except it’s for non-hipsters as well. After all, when the guy who has a Buffy the Vampire Slayer board game and likes jokes about bell hooks can poke fun at someone, we’ve got something special going on.

It’s a different experience for me, though. Now, on the surface, I exhibit few characteristics common to the “cool guy” (and those that I do share are unfortunately canceled out by my obsessive blogging and overuse of “air quotes”), and I would normally relish the opportunity to pump up my cool-o-meter, but in all good faith I cannot turn up my nose at the SCA kids (if you don’t know, ask a History major) nor mock the 125 lbs of terror that calls himself the “Black Knight” (more quotes for your enjoyment). Well, I could, but it would be a little hypocritical considering the hours of work that went into my participation in the Norman Medieval Fair from the year of Our Lord one thousand nine hundred and ninety three.

I was in the Thieves Guild, founding member if you must know. I have no pictures to offer as proof, so you’ll have to take my word for it. Also, you can rest assured that no one would falsely claim membership in that rarefied fraternity. For four months I came to Norman (driven by my Dad, since I was but 13) so that I could spend all of Saturday morning and afternoon practicing accents, stage combat and characterizations. And then there was costuming... Ugh. It hurts me to think about it (but thanks to my masochistic tendencies I will gleefully relive it). It was a lot of work, and it took a lot of time. And like so much that I do, I profited very little from it in the fiscal sense. Okay, there was no profit in it. And it didn’t get me any action, if you know what I mean.

Of course, I never did get action of any sort by being cool. No one ever hired me or kissed me or helped me move a couch because I was so damn cool. I’m not saying that cool = worthless, nor am I stomping some sour grapes. I’m not sure what I’m saying, except that cool ain’t everything. There’s a lot to be said for treating people well and not being a total dick.

Comments:
I went to the Renaissance Fair out here when I was in the 8th grade because I was one of the 'good' students.

I was a scribe. My mom sewed me a costume to wear and everything. I wore it with the school, and wore it again when I went back with my family.

All while wearing my 23 hr. hard-as-hell plastic back brace (in 100 degree weather) for my scoliosis, and of course, my glasses.
joy | Homepage | 04.05.06 - 3:36 am | #

But it can be that 5% of being a dick that gets you every time...
Laura | Homepage | 04.06.06 - 11:41 pm | #