Sunday, April 18, 2004
The Rise and Fall of Crispinus Spellar, Part Three
Or, How I Learned to Love and Then Hate The Society for Creative Anachronism
Author's Note: Here it is, the final part. Make sure to read parts one and two before reading this.
As I started to put more effort into my job and spent more time hanging out with Jacquie and not as much time at meetings and events, I fell out of the "cool kids' clique," as I'll call it. Of course, those in the canton would always say how non-cliquey they were, but it really wasn't true. It was just a big clique. Those not in it found themselves either going off to other cantons to play the game, dropping out of the SCA entirely or just hovering at the fringes because they had nowhere else to go (the SCA is notorious for attracting misfits and losers of all kinds). Things may have changed now, but I wouldn't bet on it either way.
At meetings, I'd often get the cold shoulder, and I was actually starting to truly despise a few people at the canton. Events were no longer fun, and since Jacquie loved to drive, I was able to drink more at the few events we attended. In fact, I was getting to be a bit of a lush at events, probably in some kind of psychosomatic bullshit way of keeping all the freaks away from me (the more drunk and obnoxious I was, the less likely they would bother me). After all, I think I had decided I hated about ninety percent of SCAdians at this point. I know it's mean of me to say that, but it is true.
As others around me that had started about the same time as yours truly found their niches and were tossing aside the rest of their lives in favour of the SCA, I started realizing what kind of effect the cult mentality of the SCA had on people. And I didn't fucking like it.
I stopped going to meetings. I went to fewer events. I stopped traveling distances to get to events, and by the end, anything outside of the Toronto area was not something I wanted to go to. I didn't want to become like those others.
By the time Rawl came back from his eight months of university, I'd about had it with the whole SCA organization, but especially those immediately local to me. I just didn't enjoy it any more. As a last-ditch effort to find a niche and track down that enjoyment I first had upon joining the SCA, I took on a baronial role as the chronicler (newsletter editor). When I took the role on, it was already a couple of months behind in its issues, and the state of the newsletter's financials and organization was quite poor. A month or so after I took on that position, I became editor of my own magazine and realized I wasn't going to have time for the chronicler position or the SCA itself any more.
It's too bad I had to resign from the chronicler's position the way I did. It was even more behind after I left than it was when I took it on. And it sucks, because the baroness at the time is, in my opinion, one of the coolest people I ever met during my time in the SCA (well, y'know, after Jacquie, of course *grin*).
Upon my resignation, I quickly dropped out of sight with little more than a peep, telling only a few people that I had no intention of returning again. In essence, the persona I created, an Englishman named Crispinus Spellar, was dead. I was awarded my Awards of Arms posthumously (something I found quite funny). It was accepted on my behalf by a friend -- someone who I was later to have a bit of a falling out with.
To this day, I haven't seen my AoA scroll. It's not something I'm too worried about, though. I'm sure it's still in the possession of that friend, or maybe it's been destroyed or handed to someone else for safekeeping. Not a clue.
Every once in awhile, I get the idea that maybe I should give the SCA another chance -- resurrect Crispinus Spellar, as it were, for another go-around with the organization. However, all of the bitterness I had when I left still lingers, even a year-and-a-half after my swan song. I just don't know if I'll ever put myself through that again.
Author's Final Note: Although I blame much of my frustration with the SCA on the many and varied people who play in it and the organization itself, that's not entirely fair. While the SCA has a number of problems, the most important probably being the constant internal bickering and political in-fighting I was exposed to, my own changing life and outlook on what I thought was important was as much to blame for my departure from the SCA as the organization itself. While I don't plan on returning to the organization, I will admit to missing some key individuals that I befriended while I was hanging out there. Unfortunately, it's true that as you make more and more friends within the SCA, you start to lose touch with friends who are not part of the group or have left it behind. On the rare occasion I speak to someone from the SCA, it has become increasingly difficult to find any common ground for conversations, as the only thing they're generally able to have a discourse on is the SCA ... and I'm too far out of it to do anything but listen (and I frankly don't even care enough to do that any more).
Author's Note: Here it is, the final part. Make sure to read parts one and two before reading this.
As I started to put more effort into my job and spent more time hanging out with Jacquie and not as much time at meetings and events, I fell out of the "cool kids' clique," as I'll call it. Of course, those in the canton would always say how non-cliquey they were, but it really wasn't true. It was just a big clique. Those not in it found themselves either going off to other cantons to play the game, dropping out of the SCA entirely or just hovering at the fringes because they had nowhere else to go (the SCA is notorious for attracting misfits and losers of all kinds). Things may have changed now, but I wouldn't bet on it either way.
At meetings, I'd often get the cold shoulder, and I was actually starting to truly despise a few people at the canton. Events were no longer fun, and since Jacquie loved to drive, I was able to drink more at the few events we attended. In fact, I was getting to be a bit of a lush at events, probably in some kind of psychosomatic bullshit way of keeping all the freaks away from me (the more drunk and obnoxious I was, the less likely they would bother me). After all, I think I had decided I hated about ninety percent of SCAdians at this point. I know it's mean of me to say that, but it is true.
As others around me that had started about the same time as yours truly found their niches and were tossing aside the rest of their lives in favour of the SCA, I started realizing what kind of effect the cult mentality of the SCA had on people. And I didn't fucking like it.
I stopped going to meetings. I went to fewer events. I stopped traveling distances to get to events, and by the end, anything outside of the Toronto area was not something I wanted to go to. I didn't want to become like those others.
By the time Rawl came back from his eight months of university, I'd about had it with the whole SCA organization, but especially those immediately local to me. I just didn't enjoy it any more. As a last-ditch effort to find a niche and track down that enjoyment I first had upon joining the SCA, I took on a baronial role as the chronicler (newsletter editor). When I took the role on, it was already a couple of months behind in its issues, and the state of the newsletter's financials and organization was quite poor. A month or so after I took on that position, I became editor of my own magazine and realized I wasn't going to have time for the chronicler position or the SCA itself any more.
It's too bad I had to resign from the chronicler's position the way I did. It was even more behind after I left than it was when I took it on. And it sucks, because the baroness at the time is, in my opinion, one of the coolest people I ever met during my time in the SCA (well, y'know, after Jacquie, of course *grin*).
Upon my resignation, I quickly dropped out of sight with little more than a peep, telling only a few people that I had no intention of returning again. In essence, the persona I created, an Englishman named Crispinus Spellar, was dead. I was awarded my Awards of Arms posthumously (something I found quite funny). It was accepted on my behalf by a friend -- someone who I was later to have a bit of a falling out with.
To this day, I haven't seen my AoA scroll. It's not something I'm too worried about, though. I'm sure it's still in the possession of that friend, or maybe it's been destroyed or handed to someone else for safekeeping. Not a clue.
Every once in awhile, I get the idea that maybe I should give the SCA another chance -- resurrect Crispinus Spellar, as it were, for another go-around with the organization. However, all of the bitterness I had when I left still lingers, even a year-and-a-half after my swan song. I just don't know if I'll ever put myself through that again.
Author's Final Note: Although I blame much of my frustration with the SCA on the many and varied people who play in it and the organization itself, that's not entirely fair. While the SCA has a number of problems, the most important probably being the constant internal bickering and political in-fighting I was exposed to, my own changing life and outlook on what I thought was important was as much to blame for my departure from the SCA as the organization itself. While I don't plan on returning to the organization, I will admit to missing some key individuals that I befriended while I was hanging out there. Unfortunately, it's true that as you make more and more friends within the SCA, you start to lose touch with friends who are not part of the group or have left it behind. On the rare occasion I speak to someone from the SCA, it has become increasingly difficult to find any common ground for conversations, as the only thing they're generally able to have a discourse on is the SCA ... and I'm too far out of it to do anything but listen (and I frankly don't even care enough to do that any more).
// posted by Chris @ 12:31 PM 
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