Pertinacious C

Eagle Lake

When I was 15 (and again at 16), I went out to Colorado for five marvelous weeks as crew at Eagle Lake Camp. My parents paid out the ass for me to shovel horse shit and clean up after campers. I got no sleep, nearly died of oxygen deprivation in the thin mountain air, grew up a lot, and made some of the best friends of my life. 

Eagle Lake was the first place I was allowed to be me. I went from a place of “mind your manners” to a place of “have fun and be honest.” It was mind blowing. I could say what I wanted to, fight when I wanted to, cry when I wanted to, and laugh my butt off at stupid jokes that nobody would understand. I learned to stand up for myself, how to talk to God in my own way, and how to be real. For the first time in my life, I was exactly who I wanted to be with no masks. No faking, no hiding things. I was just…me. I loved it. 

Once I graduated high school, I was in a rough spot. I was too young to be a counselor and too “in college” to be crew or camper. I applied for a counselor spot, got rejected, and found other things to do the next summer. I regret not having the chance to go back to Eagle Lake, but I’m so glad I got to go. The freedom to be me was intoxicating. 

I was thinking about Eagle Lake this past week. Those ten weeks over two summers were some of the best times of my entire life. Six years later, at age 21, I  still look back at being 15 with jealousy, because it was probably the happiest I’ve ever been. I was very open and honest, and came home with a kick-ass attitude that soon left me on top of the pack as a girl that should not be fucked with. 

I am 21. I have to stop saying “when I grow up, I want to be like (fill in the blank).” I am grown up. I have to start being who I want to be, and not talking about it. I miss being so very point blank about things that irritate me. I was a happier and more honest person at 15, and I want that back. I can’t get the innocence back, the belief that people are inherently good, that is gone. But the open hearted emotions, I can have that. I can be outright angry, or sad, or pissed off. That’s okay. That’s what I want. And I’m going to start trying to get it back, before it’s too late. 

Drama

All I wanted was to see a movie with Amanda. This much drama was not needed.

over-reaction

Every time I get a pimple, I freak out that my face is ruined by this big ugly blot and people will stare and nobody will take me seriously and I feel really upset.

Then I remember that there are real people out there with actual acne, who would kill to have an average of one pimple a month, because they are covered in zits and marks and pus-filled bumps, and I feel better about my one little mark.

My life is not that bad. 

I woke up in a bad mood.

I had a great time with Cody last night. We had so much fun together :)

Then I got home, realized I left my BBQ ribs and jacket at his place, and also my library books from the library by his house are about to be overdue. Shit. Walked into my room, and see my hair stuff strewn on the floor and a chair. My mom sent my dad to get my mini fridge I keep it all on, despite me saying that she needed to give me a table before she took it. 

Then I had bad dreams. For some reason my subconscious is on a “savior” kick, and I keep trying to save people and failing miserably. It’s kinda stressful. Then I woke up, confronted my mom about the mini fridge, and she claims that she never heard me say to get a table first. Niiiice. I only made a point of repeating it over and over. I go to do laundry, and she just watches, commenting on how I put clothes in the freaking washer. 

So now I’m typing this while I wait for my straightener to heat up. I took a good wood table from the basement for my room. Fuck that wicker bullshit she was trying to pawn off on me. I’m about to be late for restraint training, and I’m tired as hell and kinda angry, debating the merits of moving out and being broke vs staying here and slowly descending into madness from my overinvolved mother who has a very selective memory. 

sweet things

Yesterday was Cody’s last day at Meijer. He told me to go buy myself things, or he’d buy stuff for me. He gets in these moods where I’m going home with something, so I’ve learned to just get what I want. 

I wanted boy jeans. I got a Droid Razr, which I love. It is enormous. Very thin, but the size of my hand. It doesn’t fit in my tiny girl pockets. However, I have shied away from wearing boy pants. I had a stage where I only wore guy pants, and my mom and friend would rag on me constantly about how unfeminine I was and how much it hurt them to see me in boy’s clothing. Since then, I have a hard time buying things I want. Teenage years leave very odd scars. Anyway, I talked myself into getting these pants. I told Cody I was getting boy jeans, I wanted them, and nobody can stop me. I was very tired and already fought with myself about buying them. 

He put his arm around me and said, “Those aren’t boy pants. Those are girl pants.” 
“I got them from the boy section.”
“They’re girl pants, because you’re wearing them.”

He managed to fix a problem I didn’t even explain and make me feel okay about myself.  

Things That Irritated Me on Facebook This Month

1. The link I saw someone post about how President Bush has been convicted of war crimes, but the American media covered it up. LIKE FUCKING HELL would the American media cover that up. Not only is America pretty open about stuff like that, but most of the media hated that man’s guts and would love to report something like that. 
2. All the people getting pissy about North Carolina’s Straights Only marriage policy. I am not commenting on the fact that it passed, only people’s reactions. One girl went so far as to say she could never vacation there because they don’t support gay marriage. You’re trying to tell me you live comfortably in Michigan, where gays cannot get married, but you couldn’t spend a weekend in NC for the same reason? Get real. 
3. All the people who assume that because I’m a conservative Christian, I must be (fill in the blank). For the record, I say marry who the hell you want. Not my marriage, not my business. I am not “intolerant,” and the few things I take a stand on? I’ll back them up. For the love of Pete, at least have the decency to ask me my opinion before you condemn my entire belief system. I do not assume they are just another stupid crazy liberal, so don’t assume I’m another tightass Christian.