(no subject)
I don't know if I have a hectic life, or I just waste my life away... wait, yes I do. My life is the opposite of hectic. I sleep most of the time. Okay, so there could be some underlying medical problem there, but meh, what do I care, really?
I suppose I spend most of my time not on the internet keeping up with all those friendships I've managed to gather up but keep forgetting I have. They're just so hard to keep track of sometimes, I forget how many people I really have to remember I know.
Went on a camp last week, that was fun. Except what I mean by fun was that it was really not all that fun, but I went away for a week.
I was sick. Started the Thursday before I went on camp. I found it hard to get myself out of bed thursday morning, ended up getting to uni later than I meant to (not that I really had anything to do here) and therefore I didn't do so much of my assessment that was due the next day. I did get to see my friend Paul, though, and I achieved my overall end to the excursion, which was to meet up with my friend Karina so that I could stay with her the night and maybe not get up so early the next morning. I had an evil night, full of sore throats and coughing, and I woke up just that little bit worse for wear. Of course, then I had to go to uni, do a poetry class that starts at 9.30am and right after that a prose class, hang around till 5.30pm and then catch the bus home. By 5.30 I could barely keep myself upright, I called my brother to come pick me up from the train station (it was his birthday, too) and then we went to Dan Murphys to get some alchomahol and I got some red bull to keep me awake for the rest of the night. We met up with some friends at our house, we got ready to go out and then went to a non-seedy club in Sydney where they play 80s music :p
I had two panadol, a red bull and half a vodka cruiser and I felt ready to face the night. Unfortunately, I wore the wrong shoes, causing myself to have a blister just underneath my toes on each foot, meaning I couldn't really dance and just stood around wincing for most of the night. The photos make it look like I had fun, though, and I suppose I did.
We stayed over my boyfriend's place that night, then had to go on the camp the next day. He hadn't worked out sleeping arrangements, I pointed to a bed and declared that I would sleep there, then I slumped on it in my clothes and conked out right away.
The next day, we were meant to be somewhere an hour away from my house at 12pm. Course, Damien didn't feel like packing right away, and even though he was up before I was at 8am, we didn't leave his place until about 11. I still had to get to my house and pack, not having been home more than an hour since Thursday morning, and I took my time. Then we had to go shopping for stuff we didn't have, such as sunscreen (it hasn't really been sunny at all since February) and coke (because who can go on a camp without coke) and I needed panadol and other such necessities for the week ahead.
When we got to the campsite it was 2pm. Good thing the campers weren't going to be there until 5. I felt like crap, of course. I then spent the week intermittently in bed when I had planned to do an assessment. sometimes with a fever, sometimes just watching Jeremiah. I didn't spend all that much time getting to know the campers, and in some ways I'm really glad of that. Most of them were more than a little bratty, being 17-18 years old, they truly believed that it was not our right as leaders to tell them what to do and when to go to bed and so complained at everything we ever told them to do (and that was the stuff their parents had paid for them to come do)
At the end of the week, us leaders read the feedback forms they filled out. Iike to call them hate-mail. None were specifically directed at me, but there were some names mentioned in this hate-mail, and one comment from someone that she heard one of the groups I was the leader of really sucked. This hate mail was quite discouraging. Thing is, only about half of it was bad, the rest just answered yes and no so much that it was not terribly comforting in amonst all this stong-feeling feedback that told us how much we sucked and shouldn't have been treating them like 5-year-olds.
Friday we got back home. Damien found out he had accidentally stolen someone's bag, so we had to go on an hour-long car ride to give it to the director of the camp so he could return it to its rightful owner. I was still sick. I was pretty much unfeeling and drugged up on panadol and neurofen (they don't react together, so I could take both) pretty much 24/7.
The next day my Mum and two of my brothers left to go to England for a month, I had a friend's birthday celebration to go to (I couldn't possibly skip it because I don't usually see her at all). Sunday I slept for most of the day and went to Church, but left pretty much straight away because I was feeling so awful. Monday was a public holiday, so we played some card games at a friend's place. And on Tuesday my scriptwriting assessment was due and I hadn't actually started it, never mind finished it, so now I have to go hand in a doctor's certificate to say that I've been sick and should be granted special consideration to hand it in later.
Damn, that was a ramble. I didn't even get to talk about how my friends and my boyfriend eat up all of my time, but oh well. If you could be bothered to read all of that, then you're a braver person than me, but I had to write something about the horrible couple of weeks I've had.