My stupidity, at the age of 10, made my year 6 camp difficult for me. Of course, teachers were stupid too for thinking that someone like myself would want to go, not talk to people, end up having sand stick to them for a week and being forced to either boss and yell or to put up with those who seem to be unable to stop talking, at 12 at night, for even a few seconds. I mean, now I'm one of those people, but I know when to shut up if someone's threatening to maul you with a bear.
We had various beach activities - beaches being sand and water - two things that do not mix well and should really improve on attempting the same terrain as concrete or grass. I think that those two grounds have little advantages other than occasionally grazes, cuts, heads splitting open upon falling down, stains etc. One of these was surfing. Yes, where I live surfing is not such a big thing, but the teachers decided that it was a good idea that those who are not at all coordinated should be forced to try and basically walk on water. I'm not bloody Jesus (it was him who walked on water, right? Laugh at my stupidity please), sure the rest of the class is, but you've gotta cater for me too, right? For me, surfing was me falling over in shallow water (despite being a giant compared to the class, I wasn't allowed out further) and I swear I could have accidentally killed myself if I hadn't given up.
We also had limited shower times. My shower seems to consist of me standing there and not doing anything at all for about 10 minutes. This was not acceptable at camp because otherwise you were probably thrown out and brutally murdered, so we did not spend too long. This meant that I was covered in sand for about a week until I got home
This camp though had advantages. My year six teacher was a lovely woman, she was super cool and she understood me dammit, we got each other, it was like our minds were connected (or she just also had a socially-awkward childhood). Both of us had curly hair that looked as though we had a pterodactyl attack at our head although hers was ginger and mine was brown - this though, did not matter as a silhouette. Sure, she was a little taller and plumper than I was (although I was a little chubby as a kid) but this worked all worked out in the end when everyone else did not stop talking at midnight. I got up, walked down the isles of beds in an attempt to tell someone to shut the heck up or else, but found out that they were quiet, leaving me in a pile of confusion. Only walking back did I hear "Is the teacher gone?", then realised that I won without having to try, I didn't have to interact with these children in order to get my way. All I needed was to walk grumpily and be in complete darkness and I would be God. God, for goodness sake, I was their master and they would do what I say.
Now that I look at this, I write really long paragraphs about crap that I doubt many people want to read. I'll stick this one into a two-parter too. Sorry.
BUT! It turns out at least two people want to read what I write, or draw, or whatever these crazy people like about me. A week or so ago I got my first Comment and yesterday got a follower (click these links for super-awesomeness) which gave me that warm feeling inside (and sent me smiling all day because guys, I'm frickin' hysterical! You can't tell me that that is not brilliant) as though I've just been given a "you got your first comment/follower" cupcake. And this is a cool cupcake, not a failed mess made just so you have something to eat and devour for lunch, these are super professional cupcakes with blue icing (blue is way more professional than any other colour, of course).
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