Wednesday, August 14, 2013

Girl's Camp: The week I realized that I am mentally unbalanced.

 Warning: This is going to be a long post about me going to Girls Camp. Which is boring.But don't worry, I'll mostly be talking about my self. Which is awesome.

 Last month, I was tricked into volunteering to spend a week cooking meals for our church's girls camp. Camping. Three meals. 180 people. Volunteer, no compensation. That's right. Tricked. I spent lots of time complaining during the weeks leading up to it. I have become a master at getting all the credit for doing something good with the maximum amount of complaining. Here's the secret. You complain just enough so that everyone knows exactly how much work you are doing, but not so much that it starts to bug people. Although looking back, for camp, I may have gone overboard on the complaining side. 

  When I was growing up, I always thought I would be great at working with the youth. I thought I'd be the hip young cool leader that all the girls wanted to emulate. It was 7 years ago when I was first asked to volunteer with the youth,working with girls ages 12-18. Shockingly, I was not great at it. I wasn't even good. I tried to be funny, I tried to buddy up, I tried to gently tease. And it pretty much looked like this;

 The only joy I found was the weekly opportunity to feed lots to sugar to the girls with legitimate ADHD who's parents had sanctimoniously made it very clear that they had cured any attention or behavior problems by adhering to a strict diet. Not on my watch lae-dez.

  Needless to say, I was released from that calling and haven't been asked to help with the youth since. Until last month, when they were scraping the bottom the barrel.

 So I went. And after a few weeks of planning, complaining, pre-cooking, preparing, and more complaining. Camp had arrived. Did I mention that I have hated camping since I saw the Blair Witch Project? That is not a joke, it is probably the most true sentence I have ever typed. So I had made up my mind that I was going to have a crappy crappy time. Now here is the part when I talk about why I think I have a chemical imbalance, or a hormonal one. These were the bad parts of camp:

Camping on the East Coast
Being publicly shamed for wearing immodest clothing (I'm talking about me being shamed, I didn't get the memo about no workout clothes)
Sneaking out for a bike ride and almost dying (that will have to be another post)
15 hours a day on my feet.
It rained for 20 hours and all my stuff got wet.
No Sleep
I'm a feminist (so I HATE that we have to camp while our male counterparts go scuba diving in the Florida Keys)

I decided weeks before camp that I was going to have a terrible time. And usually when I make up my mind about something, It happens. But something happened to me in Boyce VA. Someone snuck inside my motherboard, and flipped the switch from weird Andy Kaufman elitist, to normal happy Mormon. And I had-- wait for it-- the best time. It was one of the most amazing weeks of my life. I had plenty of energy. I worked hard, and liked it. I made new friends. I LOVED being around the girls. I was happy and cheerful and friendly. It was amazing.

  But, my youth relations skills were rusty and I was over eager and it showed. Consequently I ended up behaving like Bill Murray.

And I know that Bill Murray is weird, but I've come a long way. And I'd say that I'm about halfway to the goal of being JUST like Regina's mom. My idol.

I can't wait until next year.

Thursday, August 8, 2013

Dear Peter . . .