Just a picture perfect day
That last a whole lifetime
And it never ends
Cause all we have to do is hit rewind
So let's just stay in the moment
Smoke some weed drink some wine
Reminisce, talk some shit,
Forever young is in your mind
("Young Forever" - Jay Z)
- - - - - - -
Tonight I saw my friend Jenna Raffio for the first time since I left Tanzania 54 weeks ago. It was both wonderful and surreal to see her, and it's insane to think that the adventure that brought us together actually happened.
As I sat on the T on my way home I was struck and shaken by an obvious realization: "I'm going back to Burlington tomorrow. I have a life in Vermont. I have classes, and finals, and oh shit..." Between being in A2 for a long weekend, spending a weekend in Boston with Pip and Adam, living in Hingham for the last week, and seeing a Tanzania friend tonight, I almost forgot where my reality is based. Mind boggling.
Too mind-boggling, in fact.
Yesterday when my brother and I were running errands I broke a long silence by saying "Man, I just want to be at camp right now. It seems bizarre that I'm expected to be anywhere else" to which he replied "I know, right? I would rather fix every toilet in South Camp than work on this law paper." And we laughed, because of course we have plenty to keep us going with our real lives... but that doesn't mean I'm not counting down until Winter Camp (27 days) and in about five minutes we're going to kick back and watch the staff video. Cause sometimes you got to.
Saturday, November 27, 2010
Tuesday, November 23, 2010
Entering: Stepford
If you know where I'm from this is going to sound impossibly obvious, but I grew up in Stepford. Yeah, I know that I knew that on some level, and we all complained about how "Hingham is a bubble" and "everyone's the same" blah blah blah.
But seriously... Stepford.
I may have known that downtown effectively closes at 6pm, but I never noticed that the streets are empty by 9. It was always clear that the houses are big, but the lawns are manicured, the paint is fresh, and the cars are shiny. I knew that people dressed alike, but failed to note that they are so damn put together most of the time. I walked to the bagel shop for coffee yesterday in my standard jeans and sweater, and I couldn't get out of there fast enough. The 5th graders were more stylish and their hair was done. It was bizarre. After that, I spent more time getting ready to run errands around town than I usually do to get ready to go out for the night.
A big part of the "Stepford effect" is wrapped up in the fact that everyone knows everyone. I go *anywhere* and I am totally aware that my Mom knows (or at least knows of) everybody in town and so odds are good that someone in that store knows me. The mom in line behind me for coffee was a Hockey Mom, a Drama Mama, a Church goer, one of my brother's friend's moms, on a committee with my Mom- SOMETHING. The Mom network is intense and they know all of us. This isn't a popularity thing, or a self-centered kick. This is Hingham, and it's scarier than Sparta sometimes.
The Stepford I grew up in was a very aesthetically pleasing and safe place to live with good schools, a decent sense of community, and a great location. It is still home to my very favorite parents and the house they let me crash in from time to time. Still, Stepford is scary, and I have never been more aware of that than I am now.
But seriously... Stepford.
I may have known that downtown effectively closes at 6pm, but I never noticed that the streets are empty by 9. It was always clear that the houses are big, but the lawns are manicured, the paint is fresh, and the cars are shiny. I knew that people dressed alike, but failed to note that they are so damn put together most of the time. I walked to the bagel shop for coffee yesterday in my standard jeans and sweater, and I couldn't get out of there fast enough. The 5th graders were more stylish and their hair was done. It was bizarre. After that, I spent more time getting ready to run errands around town than I usually do to get ready to go out for the night.
A big part of the "Stepford effect" is wrapped up in the fact that everyone knows everyone. I go *anywhere* and I am totally aware that my Mom knows (or at least knows of) everybody in town and so odds are good that someone in that store knows me. The mom in line behind me for coffee was a Hockey Mom, a Drama Mama, a Church goer, one of my brother's friend's moms, on a committee with my Mom- SOMETHING. The Mom network is intense and they know all of us. This isn't a popularity thing, or a self-centered kick. This is Hingham, and it's scarier than Sparta sometimes.
The Stepford I grew up in was a very aesthetically pleasing and safe place to live with good schools, a decent sense of community, and a great location. It is still home to my very favorite parents and the house they let me crash in from time to time. Still, Stepford is scary, and I have never been more aware of that than I am now.
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Epic
I went back to Ann Arbor this weekend. I say “back” because I was just there three weeks ago and never got around to writing about it while wrestling my way through the flames of midterm hell. Lemme give you the short version: it was hands down one of the best weekends I have ever had. And this past weekend? It was the sequel. Everyone knows that things come in threes… so I conveniently already have my plane ticket for my next trip to Michigan. One week at Winter Camp, and one week following that down in Ann Arbor. I love my life.
My roommate from sophomore year (who I love dearly) loves giving me a hard time about “camp people” and how apparently all the camp people she has known are hooked on one statement that is for her impossibly vague, slightly pretentious, and just all around annoying: “it was a really great experience.” So for years now, every time something great happens she’ll smack on her biggest grin and ask, “Was it a really great experience?” and I usually just laugh or sometimes I even say it before she can. Point is: Yes. It was an experience… to say the very, very least.
So now on to this past weekend…
I flew out Thursday afternoon and landed just as the night took on full darkness. I saw the lights below and realized that the way I feel when I land in Detroit must be the way other people feel when their plane lands in Miami, Vegas, or NYC. Namely: consumed with blind trust that an epic time is about to be had, and there is no way in hell I can possibly predict what that means.
When I was in town a few weeks back I had a whirlwind of a time seeing so many people but without really getting much quality one-on-one time with people. So when I realized I was coming back to A2, I decided I really wanted to do a better job of balancing quality time with a few people and raging time with a lot of people. It would take me three weeks to get quality time with all of the people I love in the Ann Arbor area, but I did a pretty decent job. We gather strength from reconnecting with friends in the same way we are energized by nature and music. I was ready for an emotional boost and got it in a big way. It was wonderful to see you.
At one point this weekend I was talking to a friend about the nature of friendship, and specifically about camp friendships. We got talking about how some manage to stay strong outside of camp, some get stronger, some last a lifetime. Hell, some people get married. Then he said something interesting. I said something about everyone having their good friends from camp, and he said, “Yeah, but your friends are different. People have friends, sure… but your friends are a family. Equal parts functional and dysfunctional. You put up with each other’s crap, have your issues with one another now and then, whatever. You’re a family.”
It was so on point I almost fell over. I keep thinking about that over an over, and I’m reeling from the reality because he was so right. We all need family, and I love mine.
I wish I had the patience to sit here and write more, but the thing about spending four days visiting Ann Arbor is I am now about 800 hours behind on sleep.
And when I leave? It’s like banquet all over again.
My roommate from sophomore year (who I love dearly) loves giving me a hard time about “camp people” and how apparently all the camp people she has known are hooked on one statement that is for her impossibly vague, slightly pretentious, and just all around annoying: “it was a really great experience.” So for years now, every time something great happens she’ll smack on her biggest grin and ask, “Was it a really great experience?” and I usually just laugh or sometimes I even say it before she can. Point is: Yes. It was an experience… to say the very, very least.
So now on to this past weekend…
I flew out Thursday afternoon and landed just as the night took on full darkness. I saw the lights below and realized that the way I feel when I land in Detroit must be the way other people feel when their plane lands in Miami, Vegas, or NYC. Namely: consumed with blind trust that an epic time is about to be had, and there is no way in hell I can possibly predict what that means.
When I was in town a few weeks back I had a whirlwind of a time seeing so many people but without really getting much quality one-on-one time with people. So when I realized I was coming back to A2, I decided I really wanted to do a better job of balancing quality time with a few people and raging time with a lot of people. It would take me three weeks to get quality time with all of the people I love in the Ann Arbor area, but I did a pretty decent job. We gather strength from reconnecting with friends in the same way we are energized by nature and music. I was ready for an emotional boost and got it in a big way. It was wonderful to see you.
At one point this weekend I was talking to a friend about the nature of friendship, and specifically about camp friendships. We got talking about how some manage to stay strong outside of camp, some get stronger, some last a lifetime. Hell, some people get married. Then he said something interesting. I said something about everyone having their good friends from camp, and he said, “Yeah, but your friends are different. People have friends, sure… but your friends are a family. Equal parts functional and dysfunctional. You put up with each other’s crap, have your issues with one another now and then, whatever. You’re a family.”
It was so on point I almost fell over. I keep thinking about that over an over, and I’m reeling from the reality because he was so right. We all need family, and I love mine.
I wish I had the patience to sit here and write more, but the thing about spending four days visiting Ann Arbor is I am now about 800 hours behind on sleep.
And when I leave? It’s like banquet all over again.
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