08.25.03
So during the course of today I’ve watched something like three episodes of Family Guy. This is not to say that my day has been a total waste; I also continued my ever-expanding task of packing, went climbing, had dinner, watched a bit of a baseball game, and had several intellectual online conversations. That last bit was something of a lie.
So my last update was in late July. Shit. I’ve done a bit of stuff since then, but I don’t really feel like writing about all of it right now, when it’s almost midnight, I just realized I missed Aqua Teen Hunger Force again, and I’d not much mind going to bed. But I also want to get this done while I’ve got the slightest bit of motivation, so don’t expect much…but hey, an update is an update, right?
I don’t really remember much about the week after the banquet. I’m sure I picked up a few shifts at Peak, and hung out a great deal and such. I’m so bad about updating; I don’t remember much until Champs. And that was an adventure. It was mildly sad because it was my last Champs, but mildly boring because it always is. I swam the 100 IM, 100 Back, 50 fly, and 100 free. I wasn’t seeded right in the 100 free, which sucked, but I still managed to pull 3rd place, even though I was swimming against two girls with no times...that was odd. At least I kicked ass in my heat. In my back and IM I placed first, which was exciting and thrilling. Getting out of the water after both I really just kind of wanted to die. Especially after the backstroke; I wanted to throw up but couldn’t. And then I had to get right back in line to swim the butterfly. I placed third, and think I could have done better if I’d not been fucking exhausted. But whatever – two firsts and two thirds isn’t bad. Our relay got thirteenth, I think; that wasn’t expected to do much anyway.
That night I went to Andrew’s and we watched The Ring. Holy shit, that movie is terrifying. I don’t care what anyone else says. Alex and Aaron were there too, and they got to stay the night; I had to drive home. At one am. By myself. The halfish hour from Andrew’s. I was scared witless, and only the Stephen King I read before bed kept the scary things away in my dreams. As it was, we watched a few hours of Adult Swim tv before I’d even dream of moving off the couch for fear of being attacked by something evil. I don’t know what, but that movie was scary. And I loved it. I don’t often get scared by movies. That one did it for me.
The following day Aaron, Andrew, Alex and I went to Moorman’s Boulders in Charlottesville. It was fun, even if I’m not the best boulderer of the four of us. In fact, I’m the worst, but I had a car, and that makes me useful. I had fun regardless, and we stopped over at Carter’s on the way back. This should come as a surprise, because Carter was supposed to be on Outward Bound until, well, last week. But she got sick and had to drop the course…sad, yes, but I was psyched to have her back for the last few weeks of summer. We dragged her out of her house and horsed around for a while, then I took the boys home and probably went to bed.
That weekend I went to the New again. Actually, calling it a ‘weekend’ wouldn’t be doing it justice; Andrew and Kitz and Matt F-J and I left after work on Wednesday night – around six pm – and got into West Virginia around eleven. We stopped at a gas station at one point, and I was positively wired, and I was goofing off with the bugspray Kitz had brought. Matt, being cute, decided to make it into a flame thrower with his lighter, then stopped and announced sheepishly “Oh yeah, this is a gas station.” I guess it doesn’t translate well, but I thought it was funny as hell. So anyway, we get to Roger’s and get ready to pitch our tents. Fine. It’s a gorgeous, clear night, and Andrew remembered the rain fly. And forgot the stakes. We figured this was okay, because it wasn’t raining or windy or anything. And then it rained, and the wind picked up, and the tent collapsed in on us. Matt and Kitz were sleeping contentedly in the next tent, so we prodded them awake and borrowed some stakes. Staking a tent in the middle of the night is no fun, especially when rain is threatening at any point. Eventually, though, that was done, and we got to sleep.
The first day there was drizzly, but after a breakfast of pancakes, we headed into Kaymoor (cleverly located adjacent to Roger’s), to a route called Rico Suave. Even though it was pouring rain, we were almost completely dry, except for what little rain the wind blew in. We stayed there for some time; I did two routes and tried a third that sucked when you fell on toprope. No leading for me; I’m a pussy, and I hate that about myself. After a little more climbing, we headed to Summersville for some bouldering, cliff diving, and swimming. Then back to Roger’s for a change, and dinner at Rio. That was uneventful, but I do remember Matt suggesting we head out to the bridge to do some illegal…trespassing bridge-type stuff that no one else seems to understand the draw of. I was exhausted, so I headed to the tent for a nap which didn’t last very long because there was a child who kept screaming. Eventually I joined Andrew out on the porch to watch a trio of people get progressively more trashed. We were waiting for Matt to get up from his nap, because we weren’t about to go bridge-trespassing without him. He never did, so we just stayed on the porch ‘till late. There was also a family out there – parents and a boy named Cole who was four. He was cute, except that he occasionally screamed or something equally odd, and enjoyed tying people up. That trio eventually went to bed, and the other five of us headed off to sleep at about the same time. I went to the portapotty before bed, and on the way back I ran into the drunk three; two guys trying to haul a girl to her tent. None of them could really stand up straight, and I lent them my light while they helped Lauren back to her tent. I have no idea what happened to them after that, but they were gracious and called me ‘Sober Girl.’ So that happened. A few hours later Andrew and I were lulled to sleep – or not – with the sounds of Lauren puking her guts out on the grass a few feet from our tent. Sweet.
Friday we returned to Summersville after a breakfast of Matt-cooked eggs. (That guy is awesome to road-trip with; he had all kinds of food and stove-ness and the like.) We played on the DC Memorial Boulder for a while…I did a nine that was fun (but nothing exceptional), and then Andrew headed down to his project, Suicide Blond. Kitz and Matt joined us after a while, and they did the 8s and 7 right next to it. Andrew never did get it, but he came damn close, and made it look really pretty. Eventually Amy joined us, which was awesome. We eventually coaxed Andrew off of Suicide Blonde with the thought of ice cream, which we picked up on the way home at Little General. That ended up being dinner, and it was exactly what I wanted. Matt and Kitz left that night, leaving us with only Amy’s car. But this was okay. I don’t remember what happened after that, so fast forward to later that night, when Andrew and I are asleep (or at least drowsing). Andrew sits up and says “Aaron’s here.” I respond that of course I’m here, go back to sleep. But it wasn’t me-Erin, it was he-Aaron, who appeared in the flap with a head and voice I didn’t immediately place. It turned out to be Jeff, who found my confusion amusing. I wasn’t amused; Jeff went to a friend’s apartment in Fayetteville and Aaron moved in with us. Somehow I went from being warm and asleep and comfortable to cold and awake and sleeping worse than I have in a long time. Meh.
Saturday was breakfast at Cathedral, which, while more expensive than Matt’s eggs, included coffee and a working toilet. Following, we went to Endless Wall, which is just that – fucking long. We hiked into a place that included a pair of fifty-foot ladders which were the dodgiest thing I climbed all day. This is because I’m scared of leading. Jeff on-sighted a route called Legacy, which I then toproped. The guidebook says it’s about 90 feet of 11a climbing, but I think it’s shorter; still, it was high. And exposed; I got a nifty harness tan from being in direct sunlight for probably about half an hour. The climb was amazing; one move was a finger crack over a roof into a ledge – a massive pull that just felt cool. One of those moves that makes me love climbing. The entire route did, but especially that one sequence. And the view was incredible; the route next to it, which I didn’t do only because no one would put it up for me, is on the cover of the guidebook everyone uses. You’ve got an awesome view of the New River in the background, and miles and miles of trees and nature. It was incredible.
After hauling myself up Legacy, Amy and I went to find Andrew working on a thirteen. Ned, who had joined us, set up a trad anchor on an off-width named Crescent Moon, and suggested we climb it. It’s only rated 5.7, so I jumped right on, and promptly clocked myself on the starting hold flake. I saw stars for a while, and watched Amy and Jeff do the climb. When my head finally cleared, I tried it, and learned that 5.7 crack is something else entirely. It took me a good twenty minutes and three or so falls to wrestle my way up the thing, but it was fucking awesome, to put it mildly. Something about wedging your entire body into a crack and feeling around for footholds and handholds is just different and fun. It was like learning to climb all over again. Andrew and Aaron were still working their 13 (a classic called Quinsana Plus), so Jeff, Ned, Amy and I headed over a ways to a route Jeff wanted to do called Aesthetica. Jeff led and Ned seconded, while Amy and I messed around on another trad anchor; a 5.6 whose name I’ve forgotten. It was dull after Legacy and Crescent Moon, but fun. I hopped on Aesthetica - on toprope – just as thunder started rolling. I didn’t fall up to the first three bolts, and it was some awesome climbing. I got down so Jeff could clean it, ‘cuz I wasn’t sure I’d be able to pull off the crux moves. So that’s gone on my route-to-do list when I go back.
Rio was calling, so we had a great dinner there, as are all dinners at Rio. Back at Roger’s, we ran into pretty much everyone else we know: Mike, Chris, Alex, Pete, Matt, Doug, and John. They went to Rio while we showered, and Amy and I decided we wanted Rogers’ tshirts – one ‘cuz they’re neat, and two ‘cuz they’re longsleeved and we were cold. We were also lazy, so we convinced Andrew to walk the twenty steps to get ‘em for us…by cleverly using the boy Cole, who liked to tie people up and enjoyed flirting with Andrew (It was only cute for the first few minutes.) We called him over and told him that Andrew wanted to be tied up. Andrew grudgingly got the damn shirts, and didn’t find the whole thing nearly as amusing as Amy and I did.
Once everyone got back together for dinner we sort of took over the porch, which was fun for a bit, but kind of dull. Where’s the fun in hanging out with people you climb with every day anyway? Andrew and Aaron and I eventually holed up in our tent, and despite Amy’s insistence that Aaron would have been more comfortable in her three-man penthouse-suite tent, the three of us stayed cozy in Andrew’s ‘castle’ all night. We were awakened Sunday morning to Alex’s cheerful ‘rise and shine, assholes and elbows’ as he unhooked the tent from the poles. Not cool. We fixed it, had another predictable breakfast at Cathedral, and opted to head into Kaymoor for the day. The boys did some stuff on their own, and Andrew set up a route called Almost Heaven for us. Even though it was a 10b, he fell before the first bolt, and Amy and I didn’t have much luck either. My fingers were nearly worn through from climbing hard the day before, and the starting crimpers just hurt. Amy eventually fought her way up it for the sole purpose of retrieving our gear, bless her. So that sucked. We collected everyone and headed back towards Butcher’s Branch, where Amy and I mainly watched people – Jeff and Ned and a few other toproped Lost Souls, which looked like fun and I’m still not sure why I let Ned talk me out of trying it. Amy and I wanted to do the 5.9 classic Flight of the Gumbies, but the line was long and eventually it started to rain. We were working a fun slabby ten called something I’ve forgotten, and as the rain rolled in everyone left except for us and Andrew. He did one more climb, and then the three of us hiked out. We were distressed to find our tent had been not only blown over, as we’d feared, but completely moved under shelter. Okay, so that wasn’t the distressing part; the fear of our tent having blown away was. Fortunately Roger, in his infinite coolness, had moved it for us. It was that pathetic-looking. We hung out with him and alternated taking showers, and eventually rolled out around probably three or four. A stop at McDonald’s, then another one to visit Pat, who I’d not seen in a year. So that rocked. We got in super-late, though, and in a pouring rainstorm, and I had to be up for camp the next day.
Luckily it was Girls Rock week, which means it was all-girls. I had a chill group both days, and the week went pretty smoothly. Tuesday everyone – by ‘everyone’ I mean most of the Team people plus Carter – went to Palani Drive for dinner and wound up here watching Family Guy on my laptop. Friday Andrew and Matt L. and I went to Carter’s lake, then came back to my house and…did something. I think we watched a movie or somesuch; I honestly forget. Oh, Alex joined us and we watched…something. Amusing was the fact that while heading to Carter’s, Andrew called his mom and was trying to convince her that he should be able to go. I didn’t hear what she said, but his response was an aghast “Mom, Matt’s with us!” I laughed. Turns out she was convinced we were going to be drinking and having sex, like we do. Err...don’t. And we didn’t, either. Because we don't.
I forget what I did Saturday, but Sunday I planned a day out with Andrew – movie and climbing. Instead, when I showed up at his door, he greeted me with "wanna go to King’s Dominion?” Of course I did, but I wasn’t sure mom would dig it; she’d kept me home the day before to do shopping and Dad and Matt were coming home from an anime convention (yeah, they’re nerds) that night. Surprisingly, she said yes. Everything was perfect; free passes to the park, a day with the boyfriend, no worries, life was good. And then I rearended a Jaguar and things got nasty. I picked up the phone to call mom to ask the best way to get to 95. They made a hard stop for a right turn, and BLAMMO. No one was hurt – if I’d hurt someone I don’t know how I could have lived with myself – and everyone was really cool about it. Andrew’s mom came and picked us up and took us back to her house while I tried to track down mom; the people I’d hit were super-cool ‘cuz they had kids and knew insurance would cover it, and my car was smashed. The airbags didn’t go off, but they had to tow it; it was about three inches shorter than usual. So there went my summer. The first thing on my mind was that I wasn’t going to see Andrew ever again. Dramatic, yes, but when neither of us suddenly had a way to get around, and we live 25 minutes apart, it seemed logical. The next thing on my mind was that my parents were going to fucking kill me. Also dramatic, but less of a stretch than the Andrew thing. They didn’t, but they did mildly freak out. Not that that should be that much of a surprise; I did a ton of damage and now the insurance company might drop us when the policy comes up in April. Fuck. Not to mention that I’ve been stranded without a car for my last two weeks in Richmond.
Not that it’s been that bad. Well, the first week was. I had camp again, and I was acting Site Director, which meant I had to be the first person there and the last person to leave. Fine if you’ve got a car; shitty if you have to smile big enough to get your parents to drive you half an hour to work at 7am. And the kids were little horrors the first day, and on Monday night I really wanted to just sort of die. I didn’t, and Tuesday was better. Wednesday was better still, and Wednesday night was okay. I didn’t have to belay (thank God) because of a staff meeting that wasn’t that bad, either. We’re implementing some new belaying rules and stiffer tests and that sort of thing, but I didn’t have to belay, and the meeting wasn’t so horrible. I’d almost made it through the two-hour-fifteen-minute meeting totally focused, and suddenly there was a commotion from downstairs. Jay looked squarely at me and says, deadpan, “It had better be Jesus.” And there went my focus. It wasn’t Jesus – it was better. Robert and John G. had returned from out West, where they’d been all summer. Robert’s like my big brother, so I was absolutely psyched to see him there. We talked for a bit, and then I retreated to the back wall with Andrew, Laz, Brian, Alex and Aaron (I think?) to watch a car movie. The movie was lame, but the company was good, and Elissa and I had a fun ride home.
Thursday was a so-so day at camp, and again Amy took me straight to Peak to shower and get ready for work. I had a Red Bull and was set - it was the U of R women’s soccer team doing the High Ropes course, and I had fun, both working the course and goofing off with Kevo and Dan. Afterwards, Alex took me to Andrew’s for a bit to hang out, and I promptly fell asleep on his couch, head in his lap. I was comfortable and not at all happy to be dragged home and into the house of cranky parents who were feeling unappreciated and pissy ‘cuz of the insurance thing. It was going to be okay, though, because the next day was Friday.
Friday, as it turned out, was breakdown day. I started the day with a fight with mom, which is always fun, and then got a crappy group for the morning, and was ready to cry by the time Kevin came around for his pep talk. I took a walk, went to the bathroom, called Andrew, and stuck my head in the river. A combination of all four made me feel ready to face the rest of the day, coupled with the fact that I was on spit duty for Parent’s Day, which meant no responsibilities in terms of dealing with parents. I was not the happy Passages counselor parents expect to see for $500 a week. So it ended up okay, until I got home and was told that I couldn’t have people over. I dunno why, but this precipitated a shouting match and a meltdown. Fun. It ended up okay, if ‘full of tension’ can be considered okay. More on that later. The one highlight of the week was a boy named Thomas, who was cute and friendly and mature, and I taught him to belay on Tuesday. On Wednesday night he passed his belay test at Peak, and was absolutely thrilled. Those moments – the ones where you know you’ve affected the life of a kid, and gotten him to love something like you do – are the ones that make working at a camp worthwhile. I don’t know if it made up for the other little hellions I had to babysit that week, but it sure was a bright spot in my summer.
Saturday made up for the shitty week almost entirely, though. The Yankees were playing in Baltimore, and Spoon, James, Sam, Patrick and I piled into Patrick’s Pathfinder and headed up to Maryland for a day of baseball and goofing off. I started out cranky for no good reason other than I was hungry, but life shortly got much, much better. We had $12, standing-room-only seats, so when we got to the park in a drizzle and found out they’d cancelled batting practice, we plunked ourselves down in some seats and stayed there until their owners came and kicked us out. We repeated this drill four or five times and finally got a pretty decent set of seats in the upper deck. From there I watched the most spectacular game of my life. To paraphrase (‘cuz I’m lazy) from an email to Mr. Follansbee: “We almost called you again last night - 'we' being myself, Sam, Spoon, James W, and Patrick...we saw that amazing game in Baltimore, and it was definitely worth the $12 we paid for standing-room-only tickets (one dollar per inning.) We also found some sweet seats in the upper deck that weren't being used, so that was nice. And watching the incredible catch by Delucci in the fifth, and then in the twelfth Sam jinxed Carrasco and willed Giambi's homer...it was incredible. And Custs' what-can-only-be-called-boner was the hilight of the summer, perhaps. (I've got the box scores open. Useful thing.) So yeah, awesome game. And then the car ride back was great...it was reminiscent of a car full of drunk people: Patrick stolidly driving, James asleep in the front seat, and me, Spoon, and Sam singing Beatles and Metallica songs at the tops of our voices. We probably consumed a dozen energy drinks, a gallon of Mountain Dew, three shots of espresso (those were all me) and various other caffeine bits over the course of the day. It wasn't healthy, but it was awesome.” For those of you who care, Custs’ monumental boner was in the bottom of the 12th with the Yankees up by one; he was on third with a man on first and two outs (I think?). The ball was a grounder, he started running for home; the catcher had the ball, he ran back to third; caught in a rundown, suddenly there was no one covering home and all he had to do was run home. So he did what any of us would do in such a high-pressure situation: he tripped. Tag, game over. It was fucking incredible. Easily worth the dollar-per-inning we paid, and the best game I’ve ever seen, of any sport, anywhere. And the ride home was great too; I laughed and sang at the top of my voice and even though we took the long (read: almost five-hour) trip home, I didn’t really mind. I had an awesome time with Spoon and Sam in the backseat, and Patrick and James’ occasional commentaries (and farts) from the front. Then I got home and crashed.
Sunday was this big party-type affair mom’s been planning since we got the kitchen redone. It was basically an excuse for her to show off the new rooms and play hostess thinly veiled as a going-away party for the Seniors. It was cool to see everyone, of course, and fun to answer the same six questions for every parent I came across (Where are you going? When are you leaving? Who’s your roommate? Are you excited? Are you ready? Have you tried the pecan pie?) [The latter was relevant because it had a ton of bourbon in it. It kept us amused.] It was just long enough to give me a chance to talk to everyone, and just short enough that I didn’t get sick of entertaining. Cleaning up was easy, and then Christine, Stine, Alex, Aaron, and Andrew came over to watch an MST which I then couldn’t find, so we watched another and then channel surfed. Just hung out, you know. Fun stuff.
Monday was funness. Alex brought me to Christine’s around four and we hung out and got fed and cut hair and hammocked and then went to the gym. From there I somehow convinced my parents to let me stay overnight at Peak. It was a very impromptu thing, and even though they had to talk to Laz to be convinced that I wasn’t, in fact, going to be out snogging Andrew all night (they have no trust in me. I don’t really blame them), they still consented. It wasn’t anything special, although I did take some neat pictures that I’m looking forward to tacking up on my wall at school. I finally fell asleep at some point around four am, woke up to Andrew settling in on the crashpad between me and several heads facing our direction, and again a few hours later to Brian wielding a hatchet. That was fun. After we’d all gotten up, we headed to Christine’s to sleep more. The girls got the upstairs and boys got the downstairs, but Stine and I didn’t sleep long. We chilled downstairs long enough to get bored; I tried to wake up Andrew but failed, and waited around for anything else to happen. Alex finally took me home, and he and Andrew stayed for a while, since Brian was working and that’s who was babysitting Andrew at the time. My parents were pissed that I’d brought two boys home to keep me company, blatantly disapprove of my relationship with Andrew (he’s too young, they say, even though he’s one of the most amazing people – sixteen-year-olds – I’ve ever met), and were cranky that I didn’t want to spend more time with them. Fine. The three of us spent a great deal of time goofing off and cleaning my room, because it needed it, and Andrew eventually went back to Brian’s, and I was left alone for a while.
Sam’s going away/birthday party/cookout was going to start around four, but I’d told my parents I’ve have dinner with them. And this was fine, until mom decided to start railing on me again, mainly about Andrew. When she announced that not only is he too young, but she doesn’t see how I can find him in the least bit entertaining and she’s decided I’m only with him because there’s no one else around, I’d had it. I left the house, bawling, and went next door. Everyone there was awesome and hugged me and was nice and everything, and I had a great time with all the people there – Thor and all the accessory Freeman folk – but the looming danger of my parents grounding me for the rest of the summer put something of a damper on the evening. Still, singing along to James playing the piano and Mr. Schunur on the guitar was amazing, watching baseball with everyone was amazing, just being together one last time was amazing. I lost it again when James headed out…he either doesn’t know or doesn’t care how incredible I think he is. Then I decided to take my leave, bawling the whole way out. Patrick walked me home, and we made up as I clung to him and sobbed on my front porch. I eventually calmed down enough to face my parents, and headed inside to wake them up and tell them I was home. I’d been gone for about eight hours, and I’d left without telling anyone except Matt where I was going. Much to my shock, once I woke them up, they apologized for being assholes, essentially. I understand that they’re going to miss me, but I’m going to miss my friends, and I’m sick of her belittling my relationship with Andrew which, I don’t mind saying, is one of the best things I’ve got going right now – or ever, for that matter. Patrick, surprisingly, was the first person who actually lent merit to it, and he’s another incredible person who I’m lucky to have in my life. That meant more to me than he knows, I think; I did a shitty job of expressing it in between my tears.
So after that things lightened up a bit. This was proven to me on the following night, Wednesday, Christine’s last night in town. Not only did they let me go out to the gym to see everyone and climb for a bit, but when everyone was going go-karting at a local place after practice, they let me go along. I was shocked, but thrilled to have that last together-time. Everyone, meaning me, Andrew, Aaron, Alex, Matt, Christine, Stine, Dom, Mike T, Ben, and Brian. The karting was mildly lame but kind of fun…worth the $4 per go, but not much more. I was surprised that Jordan showed up; I’d called him to let him know we were near him, and it was awesome to see him again. We went to Bruster’s for ice cream afterwards, and he entertained all of them with stories of stealing things and other misbehaving. He’s awesome like that. Then we all bid farewell to Christine which was saddening, and headed home.
Thursday was another day, and I again wound up at Peak for a member party that was rather lame. It hadn’t been well advertised, but the food was okay and free and the company was awesome, as per usual. One thing I wasn’t ready to do, though, was say goodbye to Jay. He’s on vacation or something and won’t be around until after I’m gone. In the two and a half years I’ve been climbing Jay has been one of the people who’s been my friend pretty much from day one. Amy’s another. I think all of the others have since moved on. He’s been a friend and practically a dad; he gives me advice and stuff, but is also a friend and ally…he’s an awesome person, and I’m really, really going to miss him. So yeah, I wasn’t at all ready for that.
After that we went to Aaron’s and watched a little Dave Chappelle and an episode of Family Guy before Alex took me home. He’s been awesome about toting my ass everywhere for the last few weeks; he’s the only other member of our gang who drives and lives on my side of the river; now that Christine’s gone, Brian’s the only one, and even if he lived over here, his car’s only a one-seater. So I’ve been seeing a lot of Alex lately, which is great, because he’s sweet and funny and brilliant and creative and everything else. Case in point: when I asked for requests for this entry, his response: “parcheesi! and uh uh um ponies and those little yummy crackers... triscuits! and um uh rocks! big rocks and tarbabies and monsters! and uh seeing eye dogs and eyeballs and definitely me.” This is normal.
Friday I again had my ass hauled around, this time, though, it was by Kim. She took me and Andrew and Carter to Belle Isle, where we chilled on the rocks and swam and hung out. I slipped and fell into the water at one point, while trying to get out, and the only thought that flashed through my head in the second-long fall backwards was that I was going to die on the shallow rocks. I didn’t – as you might have noticed – but I got a nifty bruise and some scrapes from the rocks regardless. I also got a sunburn. Yay. The day was awesome, though, and Kim was rad enough to drop me and Andrew off at his house to pack for the New (for him to go, anyway. I’m not allowed to have fun), until Elissa arrived to pick him up. She dropped me off at my house, where I hung out until late, saw Spoon and Patrick and said goodbye to them, and crashed mildly early.
Yesterday was a rather boring day. Extremely boring, in fact, until Alex snagged me and he and Stine and I went to some of Richmond’s [few] local boulders. We spent a few hours there, and it was fun, but nothing compared to the New, where we all wished we were. Still, I did some fun climbing and got some neat photos, and all was well. I then read until three AMish and crashed and slept ‘till one thirty.
Awake this morning for more packing nonsense and then Alex nabbed me again for some climbing, this time at Peak. Even further removed from the New, but at least it was air conditioned. Then I came home, ate dinner, and I’ve honestly been working on this stupid update for the last three hours. On and off, but mostly on. It’s now two am.
I leave for college on Wednesday. Tomorrow is going to spent putting the finishing touches on my packing craziness and going climbing in the evening. Tuesday is going to be loading the car and a cookout for the few friends I have left. I’ll give you a hint: very few of them. I wish I’d gone early, like everyone else. I have no college-aged friends left in the city, except Carter, and when neither of us have cars, it’s hard to get around to see each other. Overall, my lack of car hasn’t had that much of a drag on my social life; I’ve been more punctual now that I’m forced to rely on other people, and I’ve realized just how rad people like Alex and Elissa are for constantly ferrying my ass around. I still wish I was already at school, though. Everyone else is, and they’re settled in and comfy and I’m still here and jealous. (Oh, and without my laptop, ‘cuz the guys at Dell are assholes.) Lauri pointed out that this is a clever thing for Trinity to be doing: they make school seem so much better than the deadness of our social lives without our friends. Well fuck that; it’s a stupid plan and I’m ready to go. NOW.
Instead I’m just going to go to bed. And there’s not really much wrong with that. This will get uploaded when I damn well feel like it; these are my last two days of laziness, and I plan to enjoy them.
(On another note, for those who are interested, Andrew sent both of his 13 projects at the New this past weekend, 'cuz he's that cool. I had something more to say, but I have since forgotten what it was. Yup.)