Summer Camp Hell.

OK.
When I was 8-11, I went to a little thing called summer camp every year. For the first couple of years, it was a day camp, meaning that I could escape the wrath of the older cabin popular's at the end of the day. I would almost scream at them by the end of the summer, "I'm free bitches! Suck my d _ _ k!" and pelvic thrust that joint to the ground (see pelvic thrusting lady from a couple of posts ago. It's quite fitting here).
Unfortunately, that was not the case. I would see them again, walking around the halls of my school, not outright taunting me but close enough. They would squint their perfectly made up eyes and give me a little smile, as fake as their nose.
You may think that I am over exaggerating, but no. This was Southampton, one of the richest towns in the state, if not the whole country and every girl and her mother had fake everything.
After camp, whenever I would see them around, I would be reminded of what they were like at camp such as Christina Lee-Neknez, the evil leader, who would riffle through my bag and take out the spare pair of underwear my mom had always packed and run around with it, yelling, "*****'s got granny panties, *****'s got granny panties!"
After a stint like that, I would hide on the field until my counselor, Megan, found me. She was wonderful. She actually outright admitted to hating Neknez and her posse, saying, and I quote, (I will never forget this for as long as I live) "Those fake bitches don't have nothing on you." She was my savior. I don't think I could have gotten through camp without her.
One day, my dad had packed me a bagel with lots of butter on it. I was really excited because my parents never bought bagels for some reason and I LOVED them to death. I went to the bathroom before lunch and came back to the cabin to find Kayla Matters (she didn't matter at all to me) eating the butter off of my bagel. Who does that? No wonder she was so fat. She ate butter! This is where it gets interesting people. Prepare yourselves.
I snatched the bagel from her hands and rubbed it all over her face, leaving it greasy, essentially making her grosser then before. (I hadn't imagined that possible. You see, she smelled like a wet dog that had just rolled around in an unidentifiable brown skid-mark on the sidewalk...) before I proceeded to shove the bagel shreds I had ripped up in anger down her flowery dress and into her premature bra. I pushed her down and stormed out of that joint. I think I just walked home. I'm not entirely sure. I may have stopped for a milkshake or something to celebrate...
I didn't go back after that.
Whenever I saw Kayla Matters around school, she actually looked scared. She would divert her eyes to the floor and sometimes, travel a different route just to avoid me. I felt like such a boss, not gunna lie.

When I was eleven, I went to sleepaway camp. This round was much better then the last. It had its not so great moments, such as the time when I hadn't learned to use tampons yet (I developed rather early) and went swimming with a pad... Not the best idea that has crossed through my mind, I must say. It also had its great moments, such as my friend, Shannon. We were like two peas in a funky pod. I did lose touch with her and somehow couldn't get back in touch but I still have the memories.
All in all, camp was kind of suckish. It wasn't really my cup of tea but I did it and still live with the mental scars. Luckily, I never have to see Neknez and Matters ever again. Those bitches.
It Could Be Better

Shrewd Mercury...

OK.

"Why June is your month to be honest. Birthday girl, get ready to toss some baggage. A new moon in Gemini on the 8th is your chance to push restart. Begin with your wallet, as Jupiter slides into your money house. Close out credit cards you rarely use. Then think about a big ticket item you want, and work on that savings plan."

Alright, alright, I may not have a solid argument here, but seriously, what does Jupiter have to do with money? And what does "slides into your money house" even mean? What's a money house? A bank? Is the largest planet in our solar system going to crash in a bank? That sounds major. Did the news forget to mention this?

Why isn't that on the news instead of Angelina Jolie having a double mastectomy? Sure, that's cool of her I guess but why is she more important then anyone else who has done the same thing and actually suffered the disease? 

Anyway, I guess you know now that I don't particularly agree with the science behind horoscopes (and Angelina Jolie for that matter). 

I'm sorry but planets do not have personalities besides the ones we give them. "Shrewd Mercury," "Idealistic Neptune," and "Realistic Saturn." Right, yes. You wouldn't want to bump into Mercury now would you. I hear they're a bit shrewd. Stear clear of that seed. 

Hmmm... OK. 

There is no correlation between your emotions and the planets. Maybe people actually believe it. Maybe people read them to get given direction in life. Maybe people read them to have a little confidence boost so they can actually tell that guy they like that they do in fact like them. Who knows.

All I know is that when I see the horoscope page coming up on the horizon of Glamour I prepare to turn the page so fast, paper-cuts are expected. 

You shouldn't need an inanimate object to tell you what to do. 

If you want to discard a credit card you hardly use then do it. 

If you want to have heart-to-hearts with the people in your life that matter (hop to it, apparently, June is the time to because all seven planets are in the water signs now) then do it, time doesn't matter. If you can't do it without someone telling you to, then you're wasting your own time, and someone's you care about.

In the end, time is one of the few things we can't control ourselves and it is lost too damn easy. We need to be able to step up and direct our decisions within the small amount of time we are given. 

It Could Be Better

Joy (dog, not feeling)

OK.
I finally have my first job! Suck it bitches!

OK, you can stop sucking it now and listen to my tales of walking Joy everyday.
When I first saw her, a few thoughts ran through my mind, one being, "Stop feeding this animal!" Seriously, she is so fat, I probably couldn't wrap my arms around her middle.
She's a collie and is 13. Technically, 91 in human years! She moves fast for an old lady...
There are a few perks, like the exercise. Can't complain I guess.
Also, her poop! That sounds weird, I realize now but compared to Winnie's poop, it's like jelly beans!
One thing I am not enjoying is the state of my feet. I feel that by the end of my three month walking service, they will have to be amputated or something. Is there a such thing as too much walking? By the time I take off my socks at the end of the day, they look like a bloated fat kid's double neck, if it had toes...
By the time I fall asleep, they are beating. You know that feeling you get in your hands when you close them tight and your heartbeat pulses through them? Yeah, that.
I hate that.
It's only been a week too!
I also have no time to relax anymore. I don't know how people attend university and have multiple jobs at the same time. I have no time for anything. I feel so stressed. The only calm moment is when I get paid.
Ahhh. Money. How I love you.
The actually walking Joy part is pretty sweet though. She starts off trotting briskly, pulling me out the door, causing me to jog but then stop and walk but then jog again because her trot is just too fast to walk to but too slow to go any faster comfortably. By the end of the walk though, she has slowed down, like me.
Overall, job verdict: ...eh.
It Could Be Better

I'm stuck in a cage. And there is no way out.

OK.
I'm going to write about something a little more personal today.
I have a skin condition/disease/whatever. The doctors that I've been to (and I've been to a lot of them) say that that is not what it is but I know it is. I have every symptom there is of this specific condition. There is no cure. The treatments suck balls (or at least the ones I've been given). The doctors don't seem to know or do anything that helps me in the slightest.
"That's your job! Why are you not doing your job," I want to scream at them.
I'm stuck.
I don't know what to do or if I should do anything at all.
I've stopped going to the doctors and to seek treatment because it is not life threatening (at least not yet) but gradually it gets worse. Little by little. I'm embarrassed to show anyone or even tell you the symptoms because I am afraid you will all put the pieces together and connect the dots to the truth, which somehow, I can't bear the thought of. I don't want you to see what I have.
I don't know what to do.
I'm thinking of going back to the doctors to see if something will change this time around. Maybe this time they won't be useless and give me some treatment that will actually work. Maybe they will actually diagnose it and tell me what I've already known for years. I don't know. I just don't know. I am so so scared of what will happen if I do nothing. From what I've read, it is good to catch it early and I have but it's not like I've done nothing. I did try to get help and to treat it but no creams, pills or even surgery helped me so why go back to people I know will be a waste of my time and money.
Why can't they just do their job? Just do what you were trained to. Just fucking help me!
It Could Be so much fucking Better

Encouraging American Genius.

OK.
You know when you were 5 and would draw many pictures and write many stories and then give them to your family to admire. I have a few lying around that I hope will accidentally burn in a fire some day but just a few days ago, I found this one story I wrote for creative writing at school and just had to share with you my genius.
Seriously, that's what it was called. I titled it "Encouraging American Genius." What was I thinking?! First of all, the story sucks and second of all, I was 5! Ha! See for yourself...
Please note that I have kept original spelling and punctuation in tact for authenticity...

...and your amusement.

Encouraging American Genius  

by... It Could Be Better

 

One day a litle bare went to get some water. but when he went got home his mother was not isn't there :O A note was on the table, "I kidnapped your nother!, try and find her, by tonight!"

The litle bare w, Jimmy, was sooooo scared. he went to find his mother down at the creek and there she was. The kidnapper got had to go to jail and Jimmy and his mother had the rest of the day near the creek

 

Uh... I think it was obvious I would grow up to love writing just by this story. I mean, right?

Wow, genius in the making, I was not mistaken, that is for sure.

It Could Be Better