i'm a posting machine
packing makes me nostalgic, apparently even when I'm moving from a place I've only been living in for 10 months. I guess that's a decent chunk of time though. People conceive and have babies in that amount of time, so...yeah.
My pandora station just played "these are days" by the 10,000 maniacs, and I am a giant cornball so it reminded me of this summer program i went to probably 10 or 11 years ago.
Theatre camp. oh, dear.
the worst part was that I had to go with my younger brother, who followed me around everywhere and annoyed the hell out of my adolescent self. We stayed in college dorms though, which made me feel cool, and ate in the cafeteria. In high school, dreaming about college was enough to get through the day sometimes.
The guy, camp counselor, whatever his title was, who lead the group I was in, (and became the subject of a poorly constructed sentence 10-11 years later in my livejournal) was a theatre student at USM, and I quickly developed a crush on him. He was obsessed with the show "Bewitched" and played Frank Sinatra all the time, and I'm pretty sure now that he was gay. Joys of hindsight.
On the last day, after we'd performed for everyone in all the other camp groups (some weird story about Dracula with a Frank Sinatra soundtrack), we had a maudlin moment where he was saying good-bye to everyone individually. I think he actually pulled out a stereo and played that 10,000 maniacs song right there, for us all to sing along to.
yeah...
I'm not sure why, but I had his mailing address, and so a couple months later when I got a part in the mock trial team in school (this was 10th grade, I think) I wrote him a creepy letter thanking him for teaching me his frank sinatra-bewitched-obsessed ways.
he never wrote back.
My pandora station just played "these are days" by the 10,000 maniacs, and I am a giant cornball so it reminded me of this summer program i went to probably 10 or 11 years ago.
Theatre camp. oh, dear.
the worst part was that I had to go with my younger brother, who followed me around everywhere and annoyed the hell out of my adolescent self. We stayed in college dorms though, which made me feel cool, and ate in the cafeteria. In high school, dreaming about college was enough to get through the day sometimes.
The guy, camp counselor, whatever his title was, who lead the group I was in, (and became the subject of a poorly constructed sentence 10-11 years later in my livejournal) was a theatre student at USM, and I quickly developed a crush on him. He was obsessed with the show "Bewitched" and played Frank Sinatra all the time, and I'm pretty sure now that he was gay. Joys of hindsight.
On the last day, after we'd performed for everyone in all the other camp groups (some weird story about Dracula with a Frank Sinatra soundtrack), we had a maudlin moment where he was saying good-bye to everyone individually. I think he actually pulled out a stereo and played that 10,000 maniacs song right there, for us all to sing along to.
yeah...
I'm not sure why, but I had his mailing address, and so a couple months later when I got a part in the mock trial team in school (this was 10th grade, I think) I wrote him a creepy letter thanking him for teaching me his frank sinatra-bewitched-obsessed ways.
he never wrote back.