My real job.

The Renaissance Festival starts tomorrow. This will be my 17th year working at the festival and throughout it all, I have never thought of leaving. I have wished for others to leave, and I have thought of giving up the rest of my life and going on the circuit of ren fests. But I have never wanted to give it up. This job is what taught me what jobs are supposed to be if you follow that touchy-feely American ideal of loving your job. Let me dispel some rumours. It is not easy. It does not consist of hangin' out with cool people all day. It is 10 hours on your feet trying to wring some laughs and joy out of a hot, tired, overcharged audience with every kind of talent you may or may not possess. But that is what makes a job satisfying. If you have ever worked an easy, lame job like convenience store clerk or, god forbid, anything in a cubicle, you understand. Hard work is it's own reward. No job I have ever had has been as punishing for my body with the possible exception of bee keeper, and no job will ever be as good.

I find myself unusually unprepared or at least not nervous/excited about the festival this year. I'm not sure if it's because I have been actually taking a bunch of time off the last few weeks or what, but I'm just laid back. I took the time today to get everything together, boots oiled up, and extra underwear packed and found myself finding a groove there. I hope to find the same groove on the streets tomorrow morning. (probably worn between bad manor and the cage) This is the beginning of the best part of my year and I hope I can make a few people in the crowds feel the same way.

My first year out there was selling seafood near the stage where Puke and Snot performed. Butch and I met there and hawked shitty food together and on one clear day, hawked so loud that the mighty Mark and Joe (puke and snot) stopped their show, leaned on their swords for a moment and waited for us to shut up. Joe passed away this week after spending my entire lifetime on the streets and stages of the Minnesota Renaissance Festival and when I miss him, part of me will wish I could see their show one more time*. . . and stop it, but only for a moment.


* The show will go on, but without Joe. Come out and see Mark show us all what theatre is really about this weekend.