The Return . . .

Yeah, it's been a while.

Since April, I've managed to move to a new apartment, an undertaking that, while not as grand as moving 2000 miles, felt somehow just as stressful. Now I'm moved in to my 1-bedroom in Silverlake, a neighborhood I have wanted to inhabit since before I moved to California. It makes the last year feel like preparation before the real life in Cali begins.

I also just closed my ninth season with Faire, and my first season with SoCal Faire. It was full of ups and downs, joys and insecurities, a few small crushes (it wouldn't be me if there weren't), and quite a few new friends. Yes, playing a faery is different at RPF than it was at Bristol: the crowds are different, the site is different, the cast is different. But, I remembered what it was that I loved so much about doing this. I hope I get the chance to do it again.

The job situation is still a little up-in-the-air: I'm a contractor with little hope of converting to anything permanent right now, but I'm putting feelers out there and hoping for the best. I'm sewing again; I have two projects that need finishing before July. I'm writing, though a little sporadic right now. Mostly, I'm just trying to settle in, and see what direction life wants to take at the moment. I'm willing to sit back and ride the wave for a bit, but I know it won't be long before my fingers itch and I have to take the wheel. I'm just not sure yet which way I want to steer.

Faery Tales . . .

all images courtesy Ivan Phillips

I know I only got to spend two days as Gaia, but there was so much that happened in that weekend, I'm still flashing back to little moments.

So much of it revolved around the other performers, geting to interact with them again (or for the first time, in some cases!) One of my favorite Flower moments: Saturday it rained in the morning for a while, and rain is the kiss of death for a Fantastickal; we are not water proof. But, I was determined not to be stuck indoors when I had so little time to play, so I threw on a heavy cloak and went out into the downpour. I ended up finding Flower on the Town Square Public House counter, hiding from the rain under the overhang. I ran over and hopped up, and we sat for a little while in silence, both wrapped in the cloak against the sudden chill, watching the weather. There were lots of lovely moments with her, but this was my favorite;)

Hedgehog Faery! She was such fun to play with. My favorite memory was a rare pause on Sunday, when we hid behind a spider web and she "rested" on my leg. Naturally, none of us can truly sleep in costume and makeup, and she was probabaly as comfortable as someone sleeping on a bed of nails, but it still made a quiet, cute moment;)

Bubbles came out this weekend, and it was a joy to watch her bound around with a seemingly limitless energy. I loved closing gate, sitting in the window while she perched on the balcony railing over the gate just a few feet away, watching her blow bubbles to the children below. They would stretch up their hands and chase the bubbles, and you could see that they always believed they would really catch them . . . right up to the moment that they popped! I'm glad that my being Gaia gave her the chance to be Bubbles again for a few days.

Caliban, or "Blue Fish Boy", as he seems to be popularly called, came out on Sunday. Good Lord, every time I saw him, he was bounding somewhere! I would turn, and suddenly he'd be up a tree. My favorite moment with him was when all the fae converged on the stump stage, and a patron put a very young baby into his arms. We have all been handed babies before, we veteran faeries, but this was his first. The look of surprise and wonder on his face nearly matched that of the child's, and it made me remember the first time a stranger entrusted me with their most precious creation. We sometimes forget how lucky we are to do what we do, but seeing Caliban with that baby reminded me.

Grandmother Cobb, or Spidera, was always present, of course. She has been a constant and graceful presence in the glen for as long as I can remember, certainly for as long as I have been part of the Fantastickals, either doing makeup or performing with them. There was a little ceremony on Saturday where we wreathed a very old tree with a woven garland, and I danced just behind her as we circled the trunk. She has always been nearly unbiquitous with the troupe in my mind, and I could not have felt the same sense of peace in the glen without her there.

Phoenix came out at the very end of the day on Sunday, and as soon as I saw her, I ran right over. She was interaxcting with some patrons as drum jam started, and I realized this was my last chance for contact improv. I brought my hand in fronnt of her and she followed it, adding her hand, and then her arm, and then we flowed together for several lovely minutes. I was so glad to get the chance to play with her, even for a short time.

There are other fae I could not mention here (the post was getting too long!), but I had lovely interactions with all of them. If you are in the area and you haven't been out yet, the faire is still running for three more weekends. I encourage you to go out and create your own faery tale;)

Enter One . . .

courtesy Ivan Philips

In case any of my readers missed it, I was back at Bristol this weekend. It was a heady, emotional and incredibly rewarding experience, and there is not one single nano-second I would change. Even the time I spent at the Las Vegas airport with its slot machines and tackiness feels precious;)

That meant I was also playing Gaia again. How do I encapsulate this experience? How can I possibly describe something like this in words? As I have said before on this blog, it is almost impossible to explain a silent moment of grace, but I'll give it a shot:

There was a little girl who was clearly frightened of me. Her mother was trying to get her to go over, telling her I was nice, that I wasn't scary, that she would go over with the little girl, but she was having none of it. This happens frequently, and when I was this girl's age, I would have been one of these kids; my parents would not have been able to get me to go over to the strange costumed person for any amount of live of money. In such situations, I never, ever force the interaction; you can make a child cry that way, and that is definitely the last thing I want to do. So I ducked behind a tree for a bit, and then when her mothetr didn't give up, I decided to go away. Sometimes that's the only thing that works; you almost have to save the kid from their parenty's tenacity. I was starting to walk away, and suddenly the little girl ran over to me and gave me a hug, asking me if I knew Tinkerbell. Just like that. I interacted with her for a few moments, she gave me another hug, and they left. I saw her again that day, and though she was still shy, she waved at me and smiled, and I waved back.

There is so much else I could write, too much to fit here, really. It was a wonder to me to put the dress and the makeup back on and to find mmy old rhythms, but I found my body doing new things too, discovering new facets to a character I thought I already knew so well. And, it was awe-inspiring to work with this incredibly talented group of people again. For the faeries I already knew, it was like rejoining my family, and for the new fae, it was sort of like discovering long-lost relations. Thank you to all of them: my Flower; incomparable Brownie and her mother, Spidera; delicate and fiery Phoenix; adorable Hedgehog; ethereal Ariel; sweet and mischievious Puck; mysterious Oberon; kinetic and delightful Caliban; and a special thank you to my Gaia-sister, the lovely and playful Bubbles. I must also give due props to my makeup artist, who is from a family of strong and beautiful people whom I have always admired. My weekend would not have been half so wonderful without these people.

Thank you as well to every cast-member who came up to give me a hug, who told me they missed me, who went out of their way to play with me. You do not know how that touched me. And thank you to the crew: all of you are the beating heart of the Faire, and I love you all and missed you dearly.

The weekend was too short, far too short in the end. I crammed as much as I could into it and wrung every last bit of emotion out of it, and I still wish I could have more. My cup has been topped up for a little while with love and grace and friendship, and I am still riding on the high of that.

The Return . . .

I'm going home.

Not forever, and not for another two weeks. But, the weekend of the 13-14 of August, I'm heading back to Bristol. It has been very difficult to deal with missing everyone this summer, knowing things are rolling on without me and I'm here alone. I've done the best I could with it, but I have missed my faeries and my faire, and I have felt disconnected from the earth in a troubling way.

Last Friday my sister called and told me she had made me her cause, and had asked for people to pool together their resources to fly me back for a visit. This was touching enough, and just to know that she tried makes me tear up. But, to think that people actually came together and decided they wanted to see me again is really pretty amazing. I feel incredibly humble to think that they have missed me too.

In a few weeks, I will get to spend two precious days as Gaia again, recharge my batteries a bit, and remember my spirit for a few hours. I have not regretted leaving Chicago much, but I have regretted leaving Bristol. Chicago was where I was raised and lived for thirty years, but Bristol feels like home. I am grateful to get the chance to go back.

Fada an lá go sámh . . .

I'm having a pretty rough summer so far, missing my faeries.

I knew it would be hard to give up Bristol and the Fantastickals, but you never really know how hard something will be until you're in it. I've dealt with the loneliness of missing friends and family out here (and am still dealing with it everyday), but the particular loneliness of missing Faire is something separate.

Nine years ago, when I started doing Bristol, I had no friends. I have never been a person who makes friends easily; I keep to myself and don't let many people in. I'm not naturally gregarious or outgoing, and I don't really enjoy many social settings. When I started Bristol, I was enveloped in this nurturing environment and suddenly developed this huge circle of people around me. I was a part of something big, and I was loved and accepted.

Becoming a faery was a huge journey for me, as I've written extensively about on this blog. It was more than a physical transformation, much more, and setting it aside to come to California was difficult. But, I don't think I fully appreciated how difficult until now. Seeing the pictures starting to pop up on Facebook and the web cuts like a knife in a very deep part of me, and I feel divided from something that fulfilled me. A lot of people would say that I'm on to bigger and better things, but it doesn't really feel like that right now: it feels like being out in a huge place all alone, unhappy, treading water and waiting for things to get better.

I knew I would reach this point around now; it's been six months, and I warned my BFF B that when I got to this place and said "I shouldn't have come out here, I want to come home", that he was supposed to tell me no. I know I need to stick it out and hold on for better times. But I wake up each Monday with a stone in my heart, wondering why I'm here when the threads of my life are somewhere else.

I remember Sunday afternoons at Bristol. There was a quiet time some weekends, just before the joust ended. The Faery Glen was uncrowded, and you could sit against a tree, lean your head back against the bark, and just let the world wash over you. Yes, it could be sticky and hot and tiring; some patrons were rude, some days it was so crowded you could barely move and hardly think. But, I remember now the incredible moments of silence and grace, the wonderful children and moving experiences. The friends.

This weekend I sat inside, watching DVDs and writing. But mostly, I was wishing I was somewhere else.

Extra credit: the title is Gaelic: "Long is the peaceful day".

By Any Other Name . . .

I went to the Southern California Renaissance Faire for the first time on Sunday. I was lucky enough to get invited by my friend, the Bristol costumer, who had gotten free tickets (score!). I had been warned by many, many people not to expect much, but I went into it opened minded. Every faire deserves the chance to prove itself;)

There were definite differences. The shape of the faire, for one, was a bit strange: I'm used to doing a circuit and having multiple little streets that lead off in various directions, whereas this faire is a long snake. The road could be cramped at times, and the paved roads were a little jarring (I found myself unconsciously keeping to the grass). The  "buildings" are all temporary structures, tents and plywood. A lot of the stage areas had hay bales for benches. It was also sectioned: if you were looking for food, it was all in a massive food court; clothing shops were grouped together, armouries, and so forth.

There were a lot of things that felt familiar, though. The stage shows. The parade through town in the middle of the day. Catching a court dance set (in a very small space!). Passing by their version of the Duck. And, the patrons were the same; you could have transplanted the whole group to Wisconsin without any alterations;)

I wouldn't say that SoCal was in any way better than Bristol. But, it wasn't worse. It was different and familiar, I guess. Bristol will always be home, I suppose, and I will always hold it dear to my heart, but SoCal was interesting, and I can see myself going back.

*As for the assertion that it would be impossible to have a Fantastickal troupe there: not true. I saw a lot of places you could plant faeries, and it is not as bereft of greenery as I had been led to believe. I think Fantastickals would do fine there;)

Final Thoughts on Closing Weekend . . .

It is hard to find the words to talk about my final weekend at Bristol. I will probably start crying just by thinking about it; it was powerful and emotional and exhausting and exhilarating all at once. And, it was made up of  thousands of little moments:

-I played kickball with a plastic bottlecap just after a whip show. Seven or eight people ended up getting involved as I kicked this plastic cap around; it was the simplest game but so much fun.

-Cassidy was back, a little red-haired girl who is particularly attached to the faeries. She hugged and sat with us all, very clingy and sweet. It was lovely to see her again.

-Finally singing "Farewell to Bristol". Yep, I definitely teared up during that.

-Sitting in the window on Sunday, my last Closing Gate as Gaia, and having a father with his three girls saying I was their favorite and asking if I would be back next year. I almost lost it right there.

-Hundreds of little kids. I will never remember all of them, but I will never forget them either.

I must thank everyone who worked with me over the years, all my directors and castmates and crew members, but I must especially thank my Fantastickals. Never before have I known such welcome and support and peace as the hours and days spent in that Shack. Every faery I have known has left an indelible mark on me: Thank you Tegan, Jenn, Amanda, Jon, Gwen, Beth, Therin, Joe, Austin, Cheryl, Gabe, Damien, Kyle, Chloe, and Katie. The Shack was my home away from home, and I thank you for letting me be Mom Faery for all of you. And, thank you Tom for your patience, skill, and for taking a chance on me and allowing me into this incredible circle in the first place.

Being Gaia has changed me from the inside out, and I will never be the same. Bristol will go on without me; next season, a few kids may remember me and wonder where I am, but most will move on gracefully, and I will not be overly missed. That is as it should be; Bristol is a living, evolving creature, made of hundreds of parts always changing. I was proud to be one of those parts for a little while.

Goodnight, and joy be with you all, dear Bristol.

The Love You Take is Equal to the Love You Make . . .

My final season at Bristol has come and gone. It seems like just yesterday I was embarking on the season, nine long weekends ahead of me, already thinking about the end but feeling like it was still so far off. Now here I am on the other side of it, looking back at eight years amoung the denizens of Bristol.

It all started with a phone call. I had visited Faire for the first time in many years in 2002, and I went in costume and entered the costume contest that day. Kate, the then-costumer for the Faire and a member of the Guilde of St. George, pulled me aside afterwards and asked if I had ever considered joining cast. She gave me a name to contact, and I got a call from him in December. Stacy Hicks, who was director of St. George then, asked me if I'd be interested in playing Helena von Snakenborg, a Swedish Maid of Honor. Would I? I dove in headfirst and researched as much as I could about her, started learning the dialect, and started building my first Renaissance costume. What a whirlwind season that was! Helena was and still is one of the best characters I have ever had the pleasure of playing: fun, sweet, and so upbeat that even on my lowest days I could still find a smile. I played her for two years, and then it was time to grow a bit.

Frances Brydges, Lady Chandos of Sudeley was next. She was important to me for one simple reason: I got to be a mom for the first time. Terrifying and wonderful, the two little girls who played my daughters are still very dear to me. Chandos was a lot of fun too, and she was a major turning point in my life. But after two years playing her, it was time to explore a little more of the Faire.

I did come back and visit St. George though: I got to play Helena once more in 2008, this time as a Marchioness. What a fantastic day! Getting bitched out by the Queen for marrying without her permission and bursting into tears is seriously one of the highlights of my time at the Faire.

After I left St. George I moved over to Street, playing Theophila (Teddy) Chatterly, Matchmaker of Bristol. What fun she was! Irish and sassy, she would match anyone anywhere at anytime; I even got to try to match the Queen during a Late Glade bit!

My sister and I finally got to play sisters for awhile, but we were slightly interchangeable in people's minds! It was pretty cool getting to run around with her, though;)

My move to Street also started something else: I began as assistant makeup artist for the Fantastickals. I started slow, just putting down the base coats on everyone: dress rehearsal that year was my first time ever using an airbrush! It was a little terrifying at first, but after just a year I was launched into the chief makeup artist position and I started to grow in confidence and skill, getting to design new Fantastickals and really feeling like I was part of the process. Still, being a part of their world but not truly in it, I felt a real yearning to be a Fantastickal, a goal I had wanted for many years but believed was unattainable. I tried out in March of 2009, thinking I didn't have a chance in hell of making it, already knowing I had only two seasons of Faire left.

Imagine my surprise when I was cast. The next two years were some of the deepest and most meaningful of my life, as I began to discover and explore the inner fae. Gaia has been a transformative experience for me in so many ways; I have learned to see and even to think about myself differently. I don't really have the words to describe it, but I will try to post just about this last weekend soon.

In the end, I know Bristol has changed my life. Eight years ago, I had just a handful of friends and no one I could truly say I was close to. Now, my circle is wide, broad, and rich, from every age group and walk of life. There are poets and painters, writers, fighters, and mad geniuses. I have met gurus and soulmates, people who have gotten me through the hardest times and will continue to sustain me with their support and love as I go onward. Bristol is full of shops and shows, things to see and do, but in the end it is the people that make it special. It is those people I will miss most of all.

The airbrush is down. The compressor is off. The dress is hanging in the costume shop again. But, Bristol is still in me. Wherever I go, I know I will always have a home amid its dusty streets and creaking stages. I carry it in my heart.

Weekend Coming Early . . .

It's a holiday weekend coming coming up, and also my last weekend at Faire. I'll have updates an posts on Wednesday about that; I'm off work until then. Have a safe, fun holiday, everyone!

It's a new dawn, it's a new day . . .

This weekend at Bristol was pretty emotional, and very up and down.

Saturday morning I played an entire game of chess with a very serious 8-year-old boy. It was probably the highlight of the entire weekend for me. I don't get to play chess very often (read: never) and I originally sat down to play both sides for a few minutes; I was going to sit in the dirt and make a few moves before getting up and heading into the glen, hoping someone else would find the board and pick up my game where I left off. Instead, a little boy sat down on the bench near me and started, silently, to play with me. I kept expecting him to get bored and leave, but after several minutes I realized he was very good and very serious, and I had to start really planning my moves in advance. By the time he checkmated me, we each had about three pieces left on the board. He put me in checkmate, I knocked over my king, and we shook hands. It was awesome;) I hope he enjoyed it too; I'm sure he's never played chess with a faery before!

Two of my friends also got engaged on Saturday, and I am probably going to be making the wedding dress. There were a lot of other very lovely moments too, children who smiled and played, adults who were pretty cool, tiny moments of grace.

But, there were some low points of the weekend as well. There was an incident with one of the faeries on Sunday where a drunk, belligerent patron hit him and security had to intervene. Several people fell ill and went down from the heat. And, it finally began to hit me that this is all ending next weekend.

I was at morning meeting on Sunday, listening to a few people starting to say their goodbyes for the year, and it suddenly struck me that next year they would all be back here, doing it all over again, but I wouldn't be. I would be leaving, and no matter how often I come back to visit, it will never be this way again. My summers will be filled with other things, and they will hopefully be lovely things, but they will never be Bristol. Bristol will hum along quite happily without me, but I wonder how happily I will hum along without it.

Needless to say, I needed to straighten out my makeup after that.

I know next weekend will be hard for me, and there will be many moments like that, and probably a lot of crying (I'm starting to tear up just thinking about it). But, I will get through it and I will go forward, somehow, and on into the next phase of my life.

But, I will dearly miss the phase I am about to leave behind.

Within You and Without You . . .

I talk a lot about my time as a Fantastickal on this blog, and plenty of my readers probably get tired of hearing about it. But, the experience has so enriched and changed my life that I'm afraid I can't help it, rather like a new mother who can't stop talking about everything her baby does, regardless of how her fiends roll their eyes;)

That experience is largely due to the people I share it with, namely, the other faeries. We all begin the same, in yoga pants and t-shirts, rolling around in the grass, climbing the trees, and slowly discovering our characters and each other with trepidation and wonder. We have passed the half-way point in my final season at Bristol now, and I am starting to reminisce over the last four years working with this troupe. There have been ups and downs, some tears and an assload of laughter. Being "Mom Faery" has been lovely, but I couldn't do it without my cast.

Each one is amazing, unique, and hugely talented, as well as massively dedicated; how else can you explain signing a contract to not speak for nine weekends, and put every muscle through the workout of its life? I think the truest test of friends happens not when things are going well, but when the days are tough: when you're crying, or stressed, or tired and ill. These are the people who hold your hand, give you a kleenex, a hug, or a blanket and pillow. They would be my crew in any endeavor, and if I were shipwrecked with them, I don't think things would end up so badly. They'd help me build a raft of twigs and sticks that could weather anything, because who else knows more about them?

So, I sing the song of my Fantastickals. They are beautiful and rare, and when I leave, they are some of the people I will miss most of all.

In the Eye of the Beholder . . .

This last weekend was pretty tough for me. As I blogged earlier in the week, I had an eye infection which meant I could not wear my contacts, and as a faery, I certainly couldn't wear glasses. In the days leading up to the weekend, I envisioned tripping on rocks and tree roots and falling off of things. I was pretty nervous for Saturday, to say the least.

But, my anxieties focused on the wrong thing, as it happened. It was not inanimate objects that gave me the most trouble. As soon as I stepped through the gate and into the glen, I started to understand what would prove to be the real struggle of the day: I couldn't connect visually with anyone. I had never really appreciated how much, as a nonverbal character, I relied on just the eyes and facial expression to communicate and understand the children around me. Even from 15 feet away, you can see if a child wants you to come nearer, or is afraid, or is interested but wary. I felt the strangest sense of claustrophobia, as though I was an island in a sea of fuzzy, indistinct shapes, no perceivable emotions or reactions from anyone. I stayed out for about 30 minutes like this and then ran back to the Shack, crying, panicking. I was worried I was ignoring children who wanted my attention because I couldn't see them, that I wasn't able to pick up visual cues from people and thus couldn't react to them the way I should.

I'm glad one of the other Fantastickals was back there with me, or I probably would've ended up in a full out crying jag (ruining my makeup in the process). He gave me a little pep talk, told me to just go out there and be, and not worry about going to the kids, to let them come to me. That I was fine, and I wasn't going to upset anyone. I took some deep breaths and went back out, and tried to let the rest of the day come as it would. I walked more cautiously and got much closer to things and to people in order to make them out. It was difficult, probably one of my hardest days, but I got through it, albeit with a huge headache at the end from trying so hard to see all day.

I don't think I'll ever again take for granted how much I rely on sight in what I do at Bristol. I do not ever want to feel so isolated again. I chose to take Sunday as a patron day, and I'm glad I did.

Because the sky is blue . . .

This weekend was a strange series of ups and downs: lots of wonderful interactions with children, but a few things that were fairly stressful and upsetting. I know there are weekends like this, where things feel off and it is sometimes a struggle to keep going;  at one time I was chased by someone who wanted a picture and followed me through gardens and over rocks, with no sense of boundaries or personal space. There were so many people there on Sunday that I spent a lot of time perched in trees or on balconies, because it was impossible to move without being hemmed in on all sides. There are weekends when I deal well with this, but this last weekend was not one of them.

There were some lovely things too, of course: a little girl who tackled me for a hug, and one who kissed me right on the cheek; Puck's flirting with the Queen via juicy tomato; Petals taking a nap on me while we were gathered around a sleeping troll; four faeries playing catch with a ball of energy. Moments like these make the frustrations or upsetting things fade into the background, and remind me why I am so privileged to work with these amazing people and to be doing what I do.

It will be difficult coming to the end of the Season. I am starting to miss it already, good and bad, highs and lows.

Flower Child . . .

I should preface this by saying that I get pretty embarrassed when people tell me I look pretty. It sounds cliche and like I'm fishing for compliments, but I assure you I'm not; I have truly never thought of myself as an attractive girl. Growing up, I was the smart, serious one; I never dated, had a series of very serious crushes (for me) that were never reciprocated, and grew to feel I was the perpetual, asexual friend. I watched the pretty girls swoop in and do things so effortlessly while I just trudged along, never quite measuring up. So, I have a very hard time now hearing that someone thinks I'm pretty; deep down, I do not really believe I deserve that sort of attention.

So, this weekend was a little weird for me.

I think I've gotten used to hearing parents tell their children, "Look! Isn't she beautiful?" I know this is the effect of the makeup and costume talking; these same parents would not point at me in my street clothes and talk about me in the same awestruck voice. I don't take these things to heart anymore because I know it's not about me, but about the character. But, this weekend, I made a small change in the appearance of my character, taking her from Earth Soccer Mom to Summer of Love Faery, and suddenly it wasn't the parents saying how pretty I was. Instead, it was my fellow performers. These are peole who know me, who have seen me at 8am with no makeup and bags under my eyes, or covered in mud, or running with sweat. To hear people who know you saying how well you look . . . well, it's lovely and also excruciatingly embarrassing. There is a part of me that still doesn't believe them, or wants to turn it into an academic costuming discussion, to make it easier to process. I just don't take compliments well, I guess. That's not to say that I don't like them, I just don't know how to feel when someone I know says I look pretty. When 20 people say it, I turn bright red and want to curl up. It's strange to say that an actress doesn't always feel comfortable being looked at, but there it is; I suppose what made it difficult was that it felt like they weren't talking about the part but about me. Inside, I'm still that gangly, asexual, nerdy girl, and probably always will be.

I'm not sure I'll ever really be comfortable in pretty.

In Dreams . . .

I saw Inception on Friday, and then had a weekend at Faire to think about it.

For those of you who haven't seen it, see it. That is all.

Dreams have always ben an essential part of my life; ever since I can remember, I have had strange, wonderful, vivid dreams that play out like movies in my head. I wake up and run over the dream, remembering as much detail as I can though so much slips away. Inception is about dreams, and reality, and the stories we tell ourselves, the truth we create to make things bearable.

Being Fae is sort of like letting the subconscious, the part that feels and reacts while storing everything deep within, come out to the surface and play. This weekend I found myself asking: if Gaia is some manifestation on an inner self, what does she say about me? She is kind and shy and often an outsider, always seeking to look after others. Perhaps she is not truly my subconscious but a wish cast by that part of me, my inner self sending me a message about the sort of person I should be. A dream when I am awake. Gaia is gentle and selfless, and I think that is why I hear people call me beautiful when I am playing her; it is not just the makeup and the costume, but something that shines out, something I find it hard to access in my regular life.

I always have said that the first season playing a character is about discovering the character, and the second season is about discovering yourself, and that seems to be holding true. I think I'll be interested to see where this dream takes me.

Fantastickal . . .

I've been asked what it's like to be a Fantastickal. There's a problem with that question: how do you describe in words something which occurs in silence? Images work better. This is what it's like to be a Fantastickal, this and so much more.

What about you, dear readers? What in your life can you describe without words?

The Fae Return . . .

My final Opening Weekend has come and gone.

It was a strange mix of emotions, happy and sad. There were so many children that I remembered from last year that were here over the weekend, many of my favorite patron children. It was lovely to see them and to be remembered by them; I had almost forgotten how beautiful an experience it is to see wonder in a child's eyes when they look at you. It was hot and crowded, and yes, there were a few not-so-nice patrons wandering around. But, thinking back on the two days, all I am left with is a sense of contentment, however bittersweet it is.

My eighth and final full season at the Bristol Renaissance Faire. I hope I can make it a memorable one for every child I meet this summer.

Waking the Faery . . .

Two rehearsals into the new season, and I'm remembering old rhythms and discovering new ones. Gaia is a friend now, but it seems like she matured a little over the last year; she is slower, less shy, and more apt to hold her head high and meet the others as though she belongs. Perhaps it is because I finally feel that I belong.

Last season, I struggled with intense feelings of inadequacy. I was too old, too uncoordinated, too fat, too anything to be a faery. The Fantastickals were lithe, incredibly beautiful otherworldly things, and my director had somehow made a mistake in casting me. I would be the Fat Fantastickal that everyone laughed at. But, slowly, very gradually, I began to find myself over the season. Every child that looked at me in wonder made me see myself in their eyes; every picture of Gaia I found astonished me, as though I was looking at someone else. I started to feel grounded, safe, and intensely present in her skin; I wasn't "playing" at being her. She was in me.

This season will be different. I can already feel the subtle changes in how I feel inside her skin; she is comforting, a familiar now. Last year when I looked for inspiration in the animal world I chose things lower to the earth in an attempt to root me. Now, I know my feet are on the ground, and I'm looking to the sky; she is a giraffe, tall, stately, graceful (with occasional moments of awkwardness). I am finding it easier to return to her, and I'm looking forward to what she shows me this year: about the world, and about myself.