Church Camp

The other night I watched a documentary called "Jesus Camp" about an insanely intense Christian summer camp where children are taught they can pray in tongues, should protest abortion and many other very conservative values. As I watched this, slightly horrified, I reminisced back to when I went to summer church camp. Specifically the last year I went to church camp. Let me tell you a story.....

The year was... I don't remember but I think I was about 13. For the sake of this not sounded completely terribly, let's say I was definitely 13 maybe almost 14. I was also very mature for my age, both mentally (I was told) and physically. So keep that in mind.

13 years old and getting ready to head off to camp. Due to travel plans, my father who usually did the dropping off at camp, was unable to take me this year so my very wonderful aunt graciously drove me the 3 or 4 hours to visit my uncle near where the camp was. Also due to scheduling, my father had called ahead and gotten the OK from the person in charge (I'm assuming Jesus) that I could be dropped off the day before camp started. All the older teen counselors were there getting the place ready so I would be supervised for the 12 extra hours. So I get dropped off, they introduce me to the 4 or so counselors there and I tag along with them as they are getting things ready for all the campers who would be arriving the next day. One of the counselors is this very cute, blonde, tan guy who I followed around like a puppy, all day. What can I say, I did and always will love them menfolk. I flirted heavily with this poor guy, at least I tried. I helped pull crap out of the barn, we got all sweaty, he took his shirt off, we all went swimming (there was a lot of splashing and grabbing) and the regular adolescence teasing and flirting.

The next day, my fellow campers arrived. We were all in our early teens, and there was between 8-10 of us. 4 or 5 girls, 4 or 5 guys. Thanks to the luck of the draw and also the fact my I was semi well endowed at this stage and my swimsuit was slightly too small, making it a smidgen too low cut for what would be considered appropriate church camp attire, I quickly became the popular girl in our little group. Not with the girls, of course, but those boys sure were friendly. One boy specifically, was very friendly, you could almost say he was my "camp boyfriend". We would always sit next to each other and hold hands. Aww. So between the hot counselor and the bf, I was having the best week of my life. Like I have said before, I never got much attention of guys back home but due to the lack of other females and the oppressive nature that is church camp, I was the shiiiit.

Being the bad girl I was, I would make it my mission to sneak into the boy's cabin. For whatever reason, our "cabins" were actually treehouses or built on stilts up in the air or something. So to sneak over I would have to scale down the ladder out of our cabin, run over to the boys tree, climb the ladder and jump in the cabin while the counselors were off doing whatever. Usually using the bathroom or rounding up the rest of the campers, trying to herd us into our cabins. I usually made it up and got kicked out right away because I am not tricky at all. Except once. Like I had done the previous nights, I snuck over and this time instead of standing in the middle of the cabin or sitting on the floor, I ran and jumped into the cot of the my camp bf. The counselor came up, it was dark, "didn't notice" (hard to believe) and we thought it was hilarious. Then it hit me....no literally. Then IT hit me. Right in the back. It took me a second to realize what it was but suddenly I knew. It was a erect penis. It was incredibly awkward yet strangely confidence boosting, at the time I didn't know even a slight breeze could cause a teenage boy to stand at full attention. I promptly stood up, apologized to the counselor, turned and gave a head nod to the boys in the cabin and said good night. Thinking back, I'm sure I wiggled my little teenage ass right in there to "get comfortable". It's still my signature move to this day.

So that is the story of my last year at church camp and first boner to the back. I was touched by more then the Holy Spirit that summer. You're welcome.

Dear Diary

Some days I wake up and it's like my brain has been reset, I completely forget how to function. I don't know how to dress myself, I'm screwing up at work, I forget how to communicate with my face hole. The struggle is real. I have been stressed out lately so I'm assuming some of it has to do with that but I think some of it probably has to do with the fact that I'm just getting older and I just forget. My memory is terrible, I attribute some of it to the Internet, my brain is so used to a bombardment of information that some of those other memories just get pushed aside. I seriously can entertain myself by reading my old posts because I don't remember writing many of them and so they all seem new and super funny to me. My brain is too full, if that's a thing. When I went to visit my Grandma (she's super smart), she told me she keeps a journal when she travels and writes down everything she did, so I thought I would start that as well. Except I was so busy every day that I only very briefly summarized our activities and now I'm kicking myself for not taking the time to do it. Since it's not just vacations I'm having trouble remembering, I was thinking I could just keep a journal everyday. A big endeavor for someone who can't manage posting on their blog once a month. But if you are going to keep a journal to remind yourself of all the things you want to remember, all the feels and such, you would have to be brutally honest and straight forward when you wrote in it. If you truly wanted to be reminded, which I would, there would be some very personal things written in there. Now this leads to several issues, here are just a couple examples of why this could end horribly.

1. I die a terrible and untimely death, family comes across my journal and read in resulting in an incredibly awkward memorial service and funeral. If they even decided I deserved one at all.

2. Husband comes across it and decides for some reason mah bidness is his bidness, reads it and I get served divorce papers. Soon find out I am not an actual responsible adult, I just look like it sometimes, and end up living in my mom's backyard with 23 cats, 19 bunnies, a couple of squirrels and a raccoon because I think I'm Snow White or a majestic animal whisperer.

3. Something happens to one of my many acquaintances, my journal is confiscated and I spend the next 25 to life years in prison because I'd easily be found guilty by a jury of my peers. "I didn't mean I would actually stab them.. I was framed!"

4. Lose journal, stranger finds it, reads it, is fully disturbed and turns it into the police. The government spend lots of time an effort trying to decipher what the hell it says until they decide "f*ck it just throw the bitch in a padded room". OR maybe I stumble upon some secret government conspiracy, write down what I know, they find out and have me....silenced. I feel this is the most likely scenario. Because I'm like super good at detective-ing and shit.

So I probably won't be keeping a journal anytime soon.
Byyyyeeee.