Soo tired...
I got back from CTY Friday night but I've just gotten my lazy ass up to make an post. I was going to type the whole thing but then I found this essay I wrote there that basically describes the whole thing so here it is. It's supposed to be emulating an essay called The Supposedly Fun Thing I'll Never do again
It’s the last week of CTY and I, for one, am glad. I have learned this camp is a microcosm unto itself with odd rituals and holidays. I’ve learned to walk around with my eyes closed on Fairy Princess Day to avoid seeing my male classmates in mini-skirt and short shorts. I’ve been taught by Macho Man Day that boys’ shorts are very well ventilated and Jack Daniels Whiskey shirts are not appreciated by all. Pirates vs. Ninja taught me nothing other than new people have no idea when or what these obscure holidays are. I’ve learned that no one follows the theme for the weekly dances for a good reason because who wants to dress up as a belly dancer or a NYC hooker?
I’ve seen macaroni and cheese with the consistency of glue, frozen manicotti at every meals and I’ve gotten into a fight over a bowl of Ramen. I’ve been repeatedly visited by yesterday’s food. I’ve gotten to the point of crying every time I see a Walmart bag. It’s the only sign of civilization in Loudonville and most likely contains edible food. I’ve developed a whole new appreciation for Pepsi and I’ve collected enough water bottles with my class to line our whole wall of windows.
I’ve participated in laundry wars, never ending James Bond tourneys, and multiple games of Egyptian Rat Screw. My hands have been slapped into a pile of cards enough times to leaves marks. I’ve developed a severe terror of Frisbees hitting me because those disks are damn hard and we’re allowed only two square feet of grass to play. I’ve been chastised for lying down on the grass because “it’s PDA”. I despise mosquitoes on a whole new level. I’ve come to relish my whole hour of free time though there’s nothing to do in it because we have no TV, internet or books.
I have a dislike of pears and words to describe them. I learned new improv games when I should have been doing class work. I know far too much about the childhood of Tobias Wolff, whoever he is. I’ve done well enough in my first game of Mafia and ordered enough water assassinations to make my hallmates nervous. I’ve attended a school for criminally inclined girls for 15 whole minutes.
I’ve found that flip flops can smell nasty enough to give people nicknames. I’ve learned said nicknames have no logical source. I’ve sung the Emo song over and over while asking “Where’s Loren?”. I’ve made excuses for roommates practicing violin in the bathroom. I’ve heard random strangers expressing extreme adoration for my cousins because they sent me acknowledgements of the outside world. I’ve learned adoption is not the only way to get people to call you “Mommy”. I’ve accepted the fact that allowing “hobos” into your room is perfectly normal, they just want manga after all. I’ve seen 13 girls become family in 3 weeks. It’s all normal for CTY.
It’s the last week of CTY and I, for one, am glad. I have learned this camp is a microcosm unto itself with odd rituals and holidays. I’ve learned to walk around with my eyes closed on Fairy Princess Day to avoid seeing my male classmates in mini-skirt and short shorts. I’ve been taught by Macho Man Day that boys’ shorts are very well ventilated and Jack Daniels Whiskey shirts are not appreciated by all. Pirates vs. Ninja taught me nothing other than new people have no idea when or what these obscure holidays are. I’ve learned that no one follows the theme for the weekly dances for a good reason because who wants to dress up as a belly dancer or a NYC hooker?
I’ve seen macaroni and cheese with the consistency of glue, frozen manicotti at every meals and I’ve gotten into a fight over a bowl of Ramen. I’ve been repeatedly visited by yesterday’s food. I’ve gotten to the point of crying every time I see a Walmart bag. It’s the only sign of civilization in Loudonville and most likely contains edible food. I’ve developed a whole new appreciation for Pepsi and I’ve collected enough water bottles with my class to line our whole wall of windows.
I’ve participated in laundry wars, never ending James Bond tourneys, and multiple games of Egyptian Rat Screw. My hands have been slapped into a pile of cards enough times to leaves marks. I’ve developed a severe terror of Frisbees hitting me because those disks are damn hard and we’re allowed only two square feet of grass to play. I’ve been chastised for lying down on the grass because “it’s PDA”. I despise mosquitoes on a whole new level. I’ve come to relish my whole hour of free time though there’s nothing to do in it because we have no TV, internet or books.
I have a dislike of pears and words to describe them. I learned new improv games when I should have been doing class work. I know far too much about the childhood of Tobias Wolff, whoever he is. I’ve done well enough in my first game of Mafia and ordered enough water assassinations to make my hallmates nervous. I’ve attended a school for criminally inclined girls for 15 whole minutes.
I’ve found that flip flops can smell nasty enough to give people nicknames. I’ve learned said nicknames have no logical source. I’ve sung the Emo song over and over while asking “Where’s Loren?”. I’ve made excuses for roommates practicing violin in the bathroom. I’ve heard random strangers expressing extreme adoration for my cousins because they sent me acknowledgements of the outside world. I’ve learned adoption is not the only way to get people to call you “Mommy”. I’ve accepted the fact that allowing “hobos” into your room is perfectly normal, they just want manga after all. I’ve seen 13 girls become family in 3 weeks. It’s all normal for CTY.