campfire blues.

Well, hey.  Here I am!  I haven’t posted in WEEKS, a month, more than a month.  And the more you procrastinate, the more you procrastinate, until you finally convince yourself that watching a rerun of Glee or clicking around on the Netflix Watch Instantly site and looking for an odd social documentary to watch (fill in the blanks here with your aimless pastimes) or listening to your cheesy favorite song would be best for everyone.  Now, though, I’ve somehow convinced myself to get all my homework done before seven, which is a huge achievement for me, and, to continue this streak of productiveness before I get out the bar of dark chocolate with nuts that my dad brought back from Switzerland (oops.  that sounded a bit snobbish.  don’t you think?  a little too, the exquisite bar of chocolate that my father dear just brought back from one of his travels-ish.)…and start nibbling.  Nibbling.  Who am I kidding?  Anyway, though, I don’t think that my chocolate-eating-habits (the whole just-one-more-quarter-of-a-square-oh-why-don’t-I-finish-it-up routine–you know the drill) are something that I have the courage to post about–or that you have the courage to read about, because it might lead to a sort of confrontation with all those  habits that you wish you could change.  Well, unless you’re a healthy eater, or an organized, restrained, calm kind of person who knows their limits.  Kudos to you, wherever you are.

School these days is crazy.  Not that it’s usually calm.  My school….it isn’t the kind of school where you’ll see students sitting up in their desks, rigid smiles on their faces, looking at the teacher, hands raised, whatever, which for whatever reason is what usually comes to mind (at least in my case) when I think “elite prep school”.  No.  It’s more the five-minutes-late-gotta-talk-to-friends-oops-I-dropped-my-textbook-on-your-foot-sorry….wait, I know you!  What’s your name again? kinda school.

Here’s what happens in the halls every morning:

1) You race down the halls to get to class, books in hand, taking mental notes of funky dressers that you see along the way.  ‘Kay.  Maybe that’s just me.

2)You skid to a halt when you see your group of friends walking down the hall.

3) You choose social up to date ness over class and walk rather stiffly down the halls with them, catching up on what they need to know–the gossip, who’s dating who–but secretly wanting to tell everyone about how funny it was when your dad poured the orange juice into his oatmeal last weekend, or how you have a choir concert tonight.

4) The teachers, appalled, yell that it’s 8:01 until students file into their advisories, where you do the homework that they forgot to do last night and remember that you forgot to put on deoderant that morning.

*the cycle repeats as you rush to your next class*

Now, though, everyone’s going into summer mode.  For some teachers, that means having some fun!  They were realistic enough to get in the major units at the beginning of the year, and they’re patting themselves on the back for doing so as the students gossip whilst making comics or writing poetry or doodling or some other calming activity.  This, though, isn’t really what teachers do.  What they REALLY do is pull out their hair because they still have a major unit to cover in nine days AND a test that they don’t want their students to fail *AND* a spastic class of middle schoolers to quiet down when they’re secretly kinda interested in catching up on student gossip themselves.  KIDDING!  Though I probably would be…

Sorry.  Middle school’s not as interesting as it seems when you write about it.  What I meant to do was talk about my class retreat, which will serve the needy causes of making this post both longer and more miscellaneous.  I’ve always been a stickler for title accuracy.  Like, when I see the book Water for Elephants, the plot should revolve around the idea of, most literally, giving water to elephants.  Which is a tiny element of the plot–the plot really being more about a young guy finding his destiny, and growing up, and the circus, and falling in love.  It’s a weird thing of mine.

About the retreat.  Here goes.

The class retreat happened during the first week of May.  We went to a YMCA camp in Wisconsin for five days.  It was amazing.  Seriously.  But it’s one of those things you hear about for a while and get nothing but shrieks of ITSAWESOME that don’t tell you much.  I get why now.  It’s not like it’s actually that special to use a dirty bathroom and run around a town looking for a mansion with seven windows and eat mediocre food and go boating and come up with a cheesy cheer for your cabin.  No, I take that back.  IT IS.  Everything–from the bus ride there, to the campy food, to the cabins, to making new friends that’d just sorta been THERE for a while, to getting your hair braided during free time, was crazy and awesome and campy and didn’t turn out quite as planned, which was the best part.  Every night at dinner, during the moment of silence, I’d sort of add everything that happened during that day to this bubble of camp, and I’d kind of absorb myself in that bubble for just a second, and I’d feel so great.

Of course, there were rumors.  And lots of new couples, which was fine, but made the girls that didn’t get asked out feel kinda out of it.  And, of course, melodrama.  It all started Wednesday, when we’d been together for 24 hours too many, and went on from there.  But even the night the drama started went fine.  I looked at a video of myself dancing at camp–not one of my talents, let’s just say–flailing my arms and jumping up and down, grinning.  Then, I think about getting up and singing–in a group, fine, but it was something….right??

Sorry.  This is turning into a cheesy, just be yourself kind of posts.  But I’m keeping the campy stuff just because, and I’m hoping you won’t go crazy with all the it was just AMAZING!  I FELT SO GREAT ABOUT MY VERY OWN SELF stuff.

Now I’ve been writing for 45 minutes, and I can feel my vocabulary start to fade and my sentence structure start to get dull.  But I’ll actually try to post again, like, really soon.  And not stop and wait until weeks have passed.  Thanks for putting up with the miscellaneousness of this post.  And have a good night, or day, or whatever applies to you.

Till soon.  😉




About talesfromtheflatlands

hm. how to start...? i'm a middle schooler caught in the middle of typical dramas and trying to balance work, friends, disorganization, and all that good stuff. yeah. enough said on that front... i live in a somewhat boring neighborhood in a somewhat interesting city chock-full of chain stores and odd buildings. i have a brother, parents, and a cat, and (not to be forgotten) a rag doll. i love tea, hot chocolate (see my blog for my recipe), collages, creative writing, bake sales, dystopian novels, Jane Eyre, Glee, Top Chef All-Stars (vehemently cheering on Antonia...), snickerdoodles, The Beatles, old movies, chatting with books falling out of my arms on the way to class, debates, and education reform. the list goes on... well? what about you? great to meet you, whoever's reading this... have a nice rest of day. -talesfromtheflatlands

3 responses »

  1. staring at my wardrobe feeling depressed about how it’s 11:30 am and I don’t even know what the weather’s like, watching six cheesy sitcom shows in a row because I’m bored.

    Keep up the thoughts!

  2. Hello Liza,
    You are such an amazing writer. I don’t mean to sound fake, but you are! Ugh, I envy you so. 😛

    Good Night,

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