Please work. Or maybe it's better that you not, as I am less distracted from the ocean when you are sleeping or on break. And how much time do I get to spend with the ocean? But still, I just want to sleep.
I have been writing a fair amount over the past couple of days but largely not posting said writings due to a fickle internet connection. This morning I have had the brilliant idea of connecting to a random linksys instead of worrying about our still-uncooperative protected network. I know, I'm a genius.
Things written recently, in reverse order--that is, most recent first (and as separate entries, because this one has footnotes):
I went walking on the beach again tonight (tonight being Tuesday night, but who knows when this will get posted with the way the internet has been acting this evening), out to the waves and then down to the left toward the pier to get my feet wet and let the waves splash up against the hem of my dress and lean against a piling and sing. I carried my water bottle, as usual, both as a source of water and as a blunt object should I be attacked by a madman on a deserted beach after midnight. I should've been a boy scout--always prepared for things that never happen.
I sang under the pier for a while and then headed home around 1 or 1:15 I guess, and halfway back I was suddenly hit with this wave (no pun intended) of fatigue, after which everything seemed so dreamlike--like I wasn't completely conscious, wasn't completely there. Along the way I met a man walking in the opposite direction, and I didn't see him until he was almost upon me--maybe six feet away. I had been singing, and had closed my eyes for a second, rubbing the sleep out of them, and then when I opened them there he was, coming out of the darkness. Sort of freaked me out (in addition to being a little embarassing), though he didn't even acknowledge my presence. He passed me again when I was standing at the waves in front of the house where we're staying, singing again. Rather loudly I think, though it's hard to judge volume with the crashing water. Yes. A little embarrassing.
But even still, night walks on the beach are lovely. I could probably count on my fingers every place I've been where I could see the Milky Way, and here I can see it clearly. Last night I must have seen at least six shooting stars, and I wasn't even looking for them*. The moon rose red and soft over the horizon directly in front of the house, and cooled as it ascended. I wish I wish I wish every time I'm out in the dark that there were some camera that could take pictures of the night the way the night really looks, with the subtle shines and glows and depths which evidently only biological, God-given eyes can see. I often feel at home and in the mountains that I could sit and listen to a stream play or a river run forever, all day and night. It seems sometimes like the sound of a stream, given time, could wash out the inside of my mind. I feel like I could listen to the ocean forever too, but it feels more like a mental caress or an embrace, something to soothe rather than something to refresh and cleanse. I guess refreshing and cleansing and soothing and caressing can interact and overlap, but then, maybe that makes sense. At the risk of getting sickeningly cliche with this, I mean, they're all water. And rivers all** meet the ocean.
*When I am looking for them, of course, I never see any. I lie back in the grass and stare into outer space with grim determination, and then I rub my eyes or glance over at a tree and as if on cue the entire group suddenly gasps with shared delight and appreciation from which I am nearly always excluded. Usually such comments as "that was the [biggest/brightest/most amazing] one I've ever seen!" can be heard.
**Damn logical brain*** forces me to concede that all rivers do not, in fact, meet the ocean. Nature and metaphor are uneasy friends.
**This is why I cannot really enjoy Emerson's**** essays except in excerpted form. It's a crying shame.
****He likes(/liked) to fabricate scientific "facts" to fit his fancy.
Wednesday, July 7, 2010
Written before last night's beach walk:
I love the ocean waves and their ever-evolving constancy. spill, pour out, swell and recede, ebb and flow, forward and back. I love the way they recede from my consciousness and then suddenly swell back into my ears during quiet moments. I love their soft, soothing sounds.
And again, still, I can't write about water without thinking of its massive and terrifying destructive power, destructive potential. I feel that I must mention it, as though failing to do so would be dishonest or would show a dangerous lack of respect--would be asking for trouble. Maybe I'm afraid that if I let myself forget the danger I will fall prey to it again, or maybe I feel somehow that remembering might keep me safe.
And again, still, I can't write about water without thinking of its massive and terrifying destructive power, destructive potential. I feel that I must mention it, as though failing to do so would be dishonest or would show a dangerous lack of respect--would be asking for trouble. Maybe I'm afraid that if I let myself forget the danger I will fall prey to it again, or maybe I feel somehow that remembering might keep me safe.
Written about 9pm yesterday
I feel so dishonest sometimes, but possibly it's more anal-retentiveness/obsessive attention to detail. Maybe? Or maybe that's just how I justify my bad habits. For example, Ami and I had a conversation today that went something like this:
"When did you come in last night, like one? Were you on the beach all that time?"
"Yeah I was on the beach for a while."
"Did you come in at one?"
Here is what I said:
"I don't know; my phone died."
Here is what Ami almost certainly heard:
"I don't know--my phone died."
The difference being that my phone did die, but not until after I went to bed. And technically speaking I don't know exactly when I went to bed, but I know it was a little after 3 am. So. Perhaps I need to work on this truthfulness thing.
"When did you come in last night, like one? Were you on the beach all that time?"
"Yeah I was on the beach for a while."
"Did you come in at one?"
Here is what I said:
"I don't know; my phone died."
Here is what Ami almost certainly heard:
"I don't know--my phone died."
The difference being that my phone did die, but not until after I went to bed. And technically speaking I don't know exactly when I went to bed, but I know it was a little after 3 am. So. Perhaps I need to work on this truthfulness thing.
Tuesday, July 6, 2010
Like a [twenty]four year old in need of a nap.
TMI and inappropriate content alert, because, you know, that never happens:
I am really sick and tired of not making out. I mean honestly. Help a sister out*.
Also, I am tired and all of my clothes are dirty and I am covered in salt and chlorine and dinner out is in 30 minutes.
And I want to spend this whole $15 itunes gift card on Glee songs. Yes, that is right. I am still ever so slightly obsessed.
*Feel free to not take that seriously. Or I mean, whatever...
I am really sick and tired of not making out. I mean honestly. Help a sister out*.
Also, I am tired and all of my clothes are dirty and I am covered in salt and chlorine and dinner out is in 30 minutes.
And I want to spend this whole $15 itunes gift card on Glee songs. Yes, that is right. I am still ever so slightly obsessed.
*Feel free to not take that seriously. Or I mean, whatever...
Post-first-session.
Megan and I drove home yesterday afternoon, and were the last two to leave (excepting David and Jarian, who weren't leaving). I don't know why this seems to happen so often. I don't do it on purpose. It just happens. Megan says that I must be a Shewmake. (I'm not, technically speaking, but we are related.) I didn't feel too bad about leaving so late though because I got a lot of letters written to kids that weren't in my cabin. There were so many this year I wanted to write, and even though I must have written at least fifteen kids, I don't think I got everyone on my haphazard mental list. I guess it's alright.
I had tentatively planned to drive down here to the beach yesterday if traffic was ok and if I had the energy, but though traffic was fine, I did not even remotely have the energy. I had to give myself at least three pep talks and down my emergency Rockstar (Juiced, mango--which is by far the best flavor and which can be practically impossible to find sometimes) just to be able to leave the house and drive across town to hang out with some friends from Mary Wash who were having an "America's Goddamn Birthday*" party.
[At this point I stopped writing and went and hung out on the beach for a ridiculously long time and then went to sleep and picked back up again at 11:35 am. Because, you know, everyone cares.]
America's Goddamn Birthday was really nice. I loved seeing all the guys at the house, and more people from college that I hadn't seen since graduation. I thought I was going to miss the fireworks after I took so long to convince myself to leave the house, but I ended up walking down to Maymont from Stone's house and seeing them from the parking lot. It was really nice. And then I came home at 2 am and my dad was still up, so I sat down and he talked to me for an hour or so about our ancestry, including that we are first cousins to Robert E Lee, six or seven times removed. Evidently Robert's father moved to Halifax in search of new horizons and founded "a new dynasty," from which were descended my father's father and uncle. So that was cool, and it was nice to talk as we hadn't seen each other in almost two weeks.
I woke up late and got ready to go, spent some time with mom and dad, finally went out to leave, and discovered that I had lost my paycheck. Awesome. I'm guessing I left it at Camp, but not having it is really unhelpful. I for once have enough cash money for gas, so I gave up and headed South. Most of the drive went smoothly, but I hit traffic and made a wrong turn when I was nearly at the house, then found the correct street and passed the house three or four times and was a little pissed when I finally walked into the house. Hugs and hellos from Ami and Sara and Susannah and Brian and Eva and Mike cheered me up though. Also: six crabs and three bottles of Mike's (1 lemonade, 2 limeade). So tasty.
Not many vacations are ever as wonderful has this has largely been thus far.
*Verbatim description from the facebook invite:
"If it seems like celebrating AMERICA'S GODDAMN BIRTHDAY in the city that tried to ruin it is counterproductive, try thinking of it this way: shut up.
anyway, it's happening. we're gonna light some fires and shoot some water guns and chop some watermelons with machetes and spit whiskey into fire and playfully smear pie on each other's faces until somebody takes it too far, then spend the night trying to stop drunk people from crying because life after college isn't what they thought it would be.
If you call yourself a son or daughter of liberty, you best PUMP YO DANG SELF UP."
Which is why I <3 Kyle Schuster. (If you are like me and must Google a name, please note that the first result is not the correct Kyle Schuster. The second (a myspace profile) is. Is that over the line? Am I too creepy?)
I had tentatively planned to drive down here to the beach yesterday if traffic was ok and if I had the energy, but though traffic was fine, I did not even remotely have the energy. I had to give myself at least three pep talks and down my emergency Rockstar (Juiced, mango--which is by far the best flavor and which can be practically impossible to find sometimes) just to be able to leave the house and drive across town to hang out with some friends from Mary Wash who were having an "America's Goddamn Birthday*" party.
[At this point I stopped writing and went and hung out on the beach for a ridiculously long time and then went to sleep and picked back up again at 11:35 am. Because, you know, everyone cares.]
America's Goddamn Birthday was really nice. I loved seeing all the guys at the house, and more people from college that I hadn't seen since graduation. I thought I was going to miss the fireworks after I took so long to convince myself to leave the house, but I ended up walking down to Maymont from Stone's house and seeing them from the parking lot. It was really nice. And then I came home at 2 am and my dad was still up, so I sat down and he talked to me for an hour or so about our ancestry, including that we are first cousins to Robert E Lee, six or seven times removed. Evidently Robert's father moved to Halifax in search of new horizons and founded "a new dynasty," from which were descended my father's father and uncle. So that was cool, and it was nice to talk as we hadn't seen each other in almost two weeks.
I woke up late and got ready to go, spent some time with mom and dad, finally went out to leave, and discovered that I had lost my paycheck. Awesome. I'm guessing I left it at Camp, but not having it is really unhelpful. I for once have enough cash money for gas, so I gave up and headed South. Most of the drive went smoothly, but I hit traffic and made a wrong turn when I was nearly at the house, then found the correct street and passed the house three or four times and was a little pissed when I finally walked into the house. Hugs and hellos from Ami and Sara and Susannah and Brian and Eva and Mike cheered me up though. Also: six crabs and three bottles of Mike's (1 lemonade, 2 limeade). So tasty.
Not many vacations are ever as wonderful has this has largely been thus far.
*Verbatim description from the facebook invite:
"If it seems like celebrating AMERICA'S GODDAMN BIRTHDAY in the city that tried to ruin it is counterproductive, try thinking of it this way: shut up.
anyway, it's happening. we're gonna light some fires and shoot some water guns and chop some watermelons with machetes and spit whiskey into fire and playfully smear pie on each other's faces until somebody takes it too far, then spend the night trying to stop drunk people from crying because life after college isn't what they thought it would be.
If you call yourself a son or daughter of liberty, you best PUMP YO DANG SELF UP."
Which is why I <3 Kyle Schuster. (If you are like me and must Google a name, please note that the first result is not the correct Kyle Schuster. The second (a myspace profile) is. Is that over the line? Am I too creepy?)
Saturday, July 3, 2010
From
the blog I have followed the very very longest:
"It is the sunniest sunshine that has ever shone and we are too tired to run around, but sometimes we lie in the car park among angry beeps and whisper concrete nothings, gravel in our hair, giggling in the melting tarmac."
(from "michael." on opendiary.com.)
"It is the sunniest sunshine that has ever shone and we are too tired to run around, but sometimes we lie in the car park among angry beeps and whisper concrete nothings, gravel in our hair, giggling in the melting tarmac."
(from "michael." on opendiary.com.)
Well,
I suppose trying to be fully present here at Camp ends up meaning that I'm largely absent from the cyberspace world. I guess that's okay, but I'm sorry if anyone finds it frustrating.
What did I last say? Something about the library? Whatever. The older boys' session is usually my favorite, and though I can't really call it "favorite" before working any other sessions this year, it's been pretty good. We have a lot of guys up for CiT (counselor-in-training, special leadership-type program), which is great. I might have to see if I can be one of the cit counselors next year. I am too tired right now to worry about capitalization.
The 'High Adventure' camping/tubing trip had a lot of good points, but will hopefully be improved with better planning for next time. And as I said, it was exhausting. I am exhausted. Also, I jumped awake at 3:45 this morning and thought we were still on the river, all spread out and trying to sleep. I was getting so angry about it, too--"this is why we have to find campsites in advance! This is why we need to keep the kids together!" Stress dreams. Fantastic. Eventually, thankfully, I realized that I was awake and in my bed in the staff shack. That doesn't always happen, so I'm glad it did. I had crazy dreams all night though.
Yesterday pretty much sucked. But then, parts of yesterday were really nice, so it's difficult to generalize much. Getting everyone and everything together, two groups sharing one campsite and not enough vehicles, was pretty hectic and confusing and stressful. Then when we got back, everyone scattered, and I was (or felt that I was) blamed. And I was livid. I mean livid. I stomped around. I threw my water bottle in front of a camper. I yelled at people. Eventually I had to hide in the craft shack and sort beads, in hopes that this would help me calm down, and I ended up sobbing hysterically. I think perhaps this had been building up for a while. And it wasn't just that I felt like I was unjustly blamed for everyone's kids running everywhere. (By the way, I was put in charge of this trip, and I have never been in charge of a camping trip with kids before.) It was also that, for some reason, the past two days have been increasingly bad in terms of missing David. And then Victoria, trying to help me feel better, told me that he missed me too, and that's about when I started crying hysterically. Good. Good. Good times. Thanks.
But since I couldn't bring myself to go to dinner, Charity had me drafted to help her drive back out to Lake Moomaw to pick up the canoe trailer, as it is missing a hitch pin and she wanted help in case it came unhitched. Again. (She substituted an open padlock, which held pretty well.) Also we both were at the ends of our respective ropes and needed to get the hell out of camp. It was really nice. As it turned out, pretty much all the canoe tie-downs needed to be retied, so it was good that both of us were there. That lake is so beautiful, and so is the drive. It was a really nice little break.
Tomorrow, obviously, is the fourth. I'm supposed to go down to the beach to meet Sara & co, but I may have to postpone it a day to sleep and wait out traffic. The question is, what do I do for the fourth if I'm not driving six hours to Nags Head? There's always the option of staying here and watching the fireworks in Millboro, or I could drive home and attend the "America's Goddamn Birthday" party being thrown by some guys I knew in college. That would break up the drive, which would be nice, but I'd also probably be up late. Hm.
What did I last say? Something about the library? Whatever. The older boys' session is usually my favorite, and though I can't really call it "favorite" before working any other sessions this year, it's been pretty good. We have a lot of guys up for CiT (counselor-in-training, special leadership-type program), which is great. I might have to see if I can be one of the cit counselors next year. I am too tired right now to worry about capitalization.
The 'High Adventure' camping/tubing trip had a lot of good points, but will hopefully be improved with better planning for next time. And as I said, it was exhausting. I am exhausted. Also, I jumped awake at 3:45 this morning and thought we were still on the river, all spread out and trying to sleep. I was getting so angry about it, too--"this is why we have to find campsites in advance! This is why we need to keep the kids together!" Stress dreams. Fantastic. Eventually, thankfully, I realized that I was awake and in my bed in the staff shack. That doesn't always happen, so I'm glad it did. I had crazy dreams all night though.
Yesterday pretty much sucked. But then, parts of yesterday were really nice, so it's difficult to generalize much. Getting everyone and everything together, two groups sharing one campsite and not enough vehicles, was pretty hectic and confusing and stressful. Then when we got back, everyone scattered, and I was (or felt that I was) blamed. And I was livid. I mean livid. I stomped around. I threw my water bottle in front of a camper. I yelled at people. Eventually I had to hide in the craft shack and sort beads, in hopes that this would help me calm down, and I ended up sobbing hysterically. I think perhaps this had been building up for a while. And it wasn't just that I felt like I was unjustly blamed for everyone's kids running everywhere. (By the way, I was put in charge of this trip, and I have never been in charge of a camping trip with kids before.) It was also that, for some reason, the past two days have been increasingly bad in terms of missing David. And then Victoria, trying to help me feel better, told me that he missed me too, and that's about when I started crying hysterically. Good. Good. Good times. Thanks.
But since I couldn't bring myself to go to dinner, Charity had me drafted to help her drive back out to Lake Moomaw to pick up the canoe trailer, as it is missing a hitch pin and she wanted help in case it came unhitched. Again. (She substituted an open padlock, which held pretty well.) Also we both were at the ends of our respective ropes and needed to get the hell out of camp. It was really nice. As it turned out, pretty much all the canoe tie-downs needed to be retied, so it was good that both of us were there. That lake is so beautiful, and so is the drive. It was a really nice little break.
Tomorrow, obviously, is the fourth. I'm supposed to go down to the beach to meet Sara & co, but I may have to postpone it a day to sleep and wait out traffic. The question is, what do I do for the fourth if I'm not driving six hours to Nags Head? There's always the option of staying here and watching the fireworks in Millboro, or I could drive home and attend the "America's Goddamn Birthday" party being thrown by some guys I knew in college. That would break up the drive, which would be nice, but I'd also probably be up late. Hm.
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