May 16, 2004

• It's like the seasons decided..you know what?  Spring was a bitch last year.  Let's just get rid of her.  So within the last two weeks, Winter dissolved into Summer.  All while Spring is locked away in some cupboard threatening to throw raw Easter Eggs at everyone.  Maybe they'll let her out for next year. 

  
  

  So today was summer.  The only way i can truly tell it's summer is when i can smell purple sunblock from a mile away and the coke i left out on the table goes flat after just a few minutes.  Also when little kids bathing in that purple suntan lotion begin to infest the streets with their bigwheels and chalk and what not.  Oh yea.  And ice cream everywhere. Lots of ice cream.

  
  

  I love summer.  I just get sick of it so quickly.  I guess it's because there are three forms of summer for me.  There's relaxing in my room while appreciating the air conditioning and having an ice cream summer.  And then there's hard-core-cardio-boot-camp-summer where i live off of every form of potatoes known to man.  That would be the camp part of my summer.  Right now, i am experiencing Pre-Camp summer, which is by far my favorite.  The days are longer, and i can just sit out in the blazing sun eating breakfast when it's like five o' clock.  And the outside is so pretty and..summery...that when the thought of school pops into my head, it's followed by things like cashmere scarves and knitted sweaters.  When i think about school during the summer, i get nauseated and hot.  School and summer just don't mix. It's like drinking milk right after eating a grapefruit. It's like wearing white pants after Labor Day, which is, according to Vogue, breaking the law. 

  
  

  The camp part of my summer is only fun for me when something completely out of the blue happens.  I've been going to the same camp every summer for six years.  And every day is almost exactly the same.  Sort of. 

  
  

  A Day in the Life of a Fernwood Camper:

  
  

  Usually, if the weather is anywhere between 50-90 degrees, you would wake up at 7:45 to a bunch of screaming girls in towels running like a group of stampeding hippos toward the lake. If you're spirited, you'll follow them.  If you're like me, you'll moan and curse the injustice of Skinny Dip being so early in the morning. And of Skinny Dip in general. 

  
  

  Then once Skinny Dip is over, everyone will get ready for flag raising.  Once you get to flag raising, you might get a few dirty looks from the overly-spirited seniors.  "Why is your hair dry?"  They'll interrogate as if they're the most intimidating police officers in the country.  "Didn't go to Skinny Dip, huh, is that it? Yanno, i expected more from you, being a Junior and everything.  The little kids look up to you."

  
  

  Exactly.

  
  

  That's one of the reasons why i don't do it. The others are because i personally don't enjoy 1) jumping in a lake at 7:45 in the morning 2) jumping in a lake at 7:45 in the morning naked 3) jumping in a lake at 7:45 in the morning naked with about two-hundred other girls.  But that's just me.

  
  

  So anyway, after that you'd head over to the lodge for breakfast.  Breakfast is, simply put, a more condensed version of the superbowl.  The football players are after the ball.  The Fernwood campers are after the Lucky Charms.  And if you really aren't that much of a peaceful person, and you're willing to knock over a couple skimpy nine-year olds, you'd probably get those Lucky Charms.  Otherwise, you would have to live off of warmed-up-god-knows-what or granola for two consecutive months. And potatoes. 

  
  

  Meals at camp sort of remind me of natural selection. The physically capable ones survive, enjoying their wonderful salads, pasta, or steak, while the weak ones suffer. The only way that meals sometimes take on a peaceful atmosphere is 1) if they are outside or 2) by singing grace.  Everyone at their tables would sit down and start to sing  The person who would have to get the meal for their table would ever-so-slightly rise from her seat. "....the lord is good to me. Amen." BAM.  Kids flying everywhere.  To the salad bar, to the kitchen.  In a matter of seconds, everything is gone except for this nasty cherry flavored yogurt. The strong messengers proudly hoist a tray full of all the edible goodness they managed to fight for onto their tabel top.  The weak ones drag along a tray full of dust and a few crutons.  During meals at camp, only the strong survive. 

  
  

  So, after breakfast there are the activites. Which are too complicated to fully get into.  I'll just say that my favorites are jewelry, marksmanship, and waterskiing.  Everything else i skip.  I love jewelry for obvious reasons.  Marksmanship is on my favorite list because of this one time when i was in fifth grade.  One of those D.A.R.E officers came into our class to dsicuss minors that get a hold of guns and shoot people due to low self-esteem and insecurity.  He asked us to say, honestly, if we have ever used a gun.  I was the only kid that raised my hand.  Everyone oohed and ahhed as i told them my life story of how i shoot for fun.  I could see this disturbed look on the officer's face after the discussion.  "You do it for fun?" he said as if i was being trained to be some future psychokiller that would have to wear a leash and be locked up in some metal box ten years from now.

  
  

  But then again i might be, considering my painful waterkskiing skills.  When i get out there on my kneeboard, i can almost see the eels and guppies and rocks down below squeel in horror.  'HEAD FOR THE OCEAN!!' they'll cry.  But shit.  They're in a man-made lake.  It doesn't lead to the ocean.  So, basically, they have to put up with me.  All i can say is that thank god there are no manatees living in that lake.  Because if there were everyone would blame me for making them hit the endangered list, with my wild skis and all.  And then i'd be hanged or whatever those Mainers use for the death penalty.

  
  

  After dinner (which is usually outside, so the nine year olds are ensured that they'll survive one more day) we have evening activity.  This can be a good thing, and it can also be hell.  They can range from being an all-camp game of throw the squishball or whatever  to a social with some nearby all boy's camp.  All boy's camp..good.  Squish ball? Hell no.  I usually skip those. 

  
  

  Actually, the all-boy's camp depends.  By the time a social pops up in our scedules, about 75 percent of the older half of camp are so horny that they start getting action from their teddy bears.  Or eachother.  So, i guess any guy's camp is a good one.  Unless its Winnebago.  I think i'm the only person who doesn't like that camp.  They don't like me either.  But all the other camps are okay. Just not Winnebago. 

  
  

  After evening activity, we have taps.  Those poor starving nine-year olds go to bed.  We go to bed at eleven.  After eleven, we whisper and have candy parties until our counselors come in and catch us and send the camp director, Fritz, over to do the honors.  The honors are never good. They usually involve screaming and 'you should know better'-ing.  That kind of thing.  And at around one, i usually have to go to the bathroom.  The potty is about fifty feet away from the bunk, and i never have to guts to run all the way in the pitch dark to sit on some cobwebby tiolet.  So, the majority of us just pee outside.

  
  

  Yeah, so that's a day in Fernwood Camp for you.  Hopefully no one who was originally thinking about going there is reading this.  Fritz might come over and do the honors. 

  
  

  Anyway, lots's of homework.

  
  

  later- d

  
  

   

  • 9:58 pm
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