I headed up to Philly today to say goodbye to Jenny and Steve. Jenny’s visiting Steve as usual, before she heads back to NYC. They’re both my friends from Syracuse and they have a very complicated relationship. 

While Steve was playing bball, Jen and I hung out at Starbucks and ended up having a conversation about our boy grumbles, as per usual. She complained about Steve and his commitment phobia, and I complained about Blake and my constant inability to understand how he feels about me. 

Jenny was on a roll, when this older lady sitting behind us got up to go throw something away. As she stood up, she turned to Jenny and said “You just need to forget him! You should have boys begging to be with you. He’s crazy”

I exclaimed, “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell her!” 

The nice lady came back from the trash can, and added that she needs to read that “He’s not into you book.” We chatted a bit, and when she left, she wished her good luck. “It’s a new year! Time to start fresh!” 

Oh the wisdom you pick up from random Starbucks patrons. 

I should really take the same advice. I told Blake I had some stuff to deliver to him, and he asked if I wanted to just mail it to him. Because apparently he’s not planning on seeing me when I get to LA in two days? Because he’d rather just text message me. All. The. Time.

But, you know, that’s it. Because it’s not like he cried when he said goodbye to me. Or texted that he missed me for weeks after he left. 

Exasperation.

First off, thanks to everyone for the congradulations! You all made my morning. Second, today, I’m participating in something called Blog Secret. Basically, everyone participating (list can be found here) wrote a post about something they can’t share on their own blog for whatever reason. All the posts then got all scrambled up and sent out for someone else to post on their blog anonymously. Below is the post I was sent. I didn’t write it. The post I wrote is floating out there somewhere. So enjoy someone else’s writing for a day. (A little note of warning: it’s a tad more risque than things I usually post here, so be warned. Mom – I’m looking at you!) Thanks to Nilsa for organizing!

______________________________________________

Ok. BlogSecret. Something I’m dying to talk about, but am too shy to attach my identity to it. Here goes:

It started out as an innocent game of truth or dare with my closest friends. There were four boys, one of which is one of my best, best friends, we’ll call him BFF Boy. Over 4 years ago, while we were in college, we were non-serious boyfriend-girlfriend for like 2 months. In retrospect, reasons we didn’t work out make so much sense now that I know him as well as I do now (I’m programmed for relationships; he’s on the move ALL THE TIME).

Anyway, it’s safe to say that things got a little weird. Note to self: Be careful who you play hours of Truth or Dare with while consuming bottle after bottle of wine and champagne, and ruling that any such “dare” would have to occur within the boundaries of the hot tub we were all sitting in, thus limiting the possibilities of what dares actually could happen.

Anyway, there were only two girls, myself and LP. I started off being lame (aka not drunk enough for the dares I saw coming) and kept saying “truth”. Given the nature of co-ed-drunken-hot-tub-truth-or-dare, naturally all of the “truths” were sex-related:

Where’s the coolest place you’ve had sex? (In the back of a pickup truck in the parking lot of the baseball fields where my then-boyfriend played summer baseball tournaments) Ever been with another girl? (No, but I’d secretly like to.) How many people have you slept with? (17. Don’t judge me.)

Right about then, I decided I didn’t necessarily want all the boys to know any more about my sex life, so I started risking dares. Of course, this meant kisses. Girls kisses, three-way kisses, etc. I had my bra untied by one of the guys’ teeth and had to untie the drawstring of another guy’s swim shorts in the same manner. Other things that happened included ass-biting, random cuddling, bottles of whiskey and red wine being passed, a champagne break, and finding out things about my friends I’ll have to take to my grave.

It got kind of crazy.

Then (if that’s not obvious), I got kind of drunk. LP and I started making out just for the hell of it. Just about every other turn. She’d never kissed a girl, and I felt like the sassy, more experienced one (does fantasizing about it count as experience?) deflowering the young, sweet virgin. And she tasted good. And had really soft lips. I was quite pleased to realize that kissing girls is, in fact, quite hot. (Or maybe making out in the hot tub with champagne breath is hot. Either way…)

It was like a debaucherous Spring Break beach party, except that we’re all too close of friends for most of it to have really been sexy. It was mostly just awkward. Except for the part where I got to make out with LP. That was pretty sexy.

But I suppose that’s what happens when 8 half-naked 20somethings drink too much champagne and sit in a hot tub for 4+ hours…

Then, things took a turn for the more interesting, more weird, more… awesome. LP, BFF boy and I decided to call it a night around 4am. I know BFF Boy has had a thing for LP since she started hanging around our crew this summer. But I also knew that LP was dealing with ending a long-distance relationship and that she wasn’t looking for anything serious. So, being the good friend that I am , as we changed out of our swimsuits and into our PJs, I asked her if she wanted to be left alone with him because I knew he hoped to continue making out with her. She BEGGED me not to leave her alone with him, so I didn’t. That meant that the three of us were now planning to sleep in BFF Boy’s bed.

You know where this is going.

I found myself sandwiching a very sweet and drunkish LP in between myself and BFF Boy as we vied for her attention with our kisses and cuddles. I wouldn’t really call it a threesome (at least not by normal standards – no one got naked, and BFF Boy and I barely touched each other except for a couple of semi-awkward kisses)… LP just got the sweet end of a deal with two people fighting over her for a couple of hours, kissing her and randomly groping her wherever we could reach. It was pretty PG-rated by Official Threesome Rules, but it was a good, solid make-out session. Looking back, that was honestly probably for the best, considering how close the three of us actually are in Friend World.

Either way, I got a sweet deal finally getting to make out with a chick for real. I’ve kissed girls before in a very PG-rated way, and I went out with a girl (like on a date, kind of) a couple of times a few years ago, scoring a “real” goodnight Girl Kiss. But until this night, I’d never full out roaming hands, rolling-around-on-a-bed, hands-through-her-hair make out session with a girl despite having always wanted to. Now that I’ve made it to second base?

I’d like to swing for a triple next time…

First of all, thanks for all the comments It’s nice to know I’m not universally  hated. I WILL be back soon. I think I’m cutting back on my work hours starting next week, so I can get an actual handle on my life and not have to sit around at work doing nothing while thinking about all the other things I need to be getting done, but can’t. 

Second, while I’m not writing extensively here today, I do have a guest post about my lack of travel experience over at one of my favorite blogs, This Is Not The Life I Ordered, while Ashley has an amazing German adventure. Make sure to check it out!

As part of the great Big 20-Something Bloggers Blog Swap, I bring you a post from Ben: 

9:56 a.m. — Wake up.

At first, the prospect of waking up whenever I felt like it, making peanut butter and jelly sandwiches whenever I feel like it and taking a shower whenever I feel like it seemed like absolute freedom. By the third week, this schedule revealed its true nature: absolute tedium.

11:03 a.m. — Roll onto floor from bed.

My anxiety isn’t even financial in origin. Because I, bachelor, didn’t spend a dime that I didn’t have to all last year, I have enough saved up to coast until well past Labor Day. Past that, if need be.

11:04 a.m. — Turn off alarm.

Once I’m awake, I remember how much I hate coasting.

11:32 a.m. — Stumble toward Internet. Eat instant oatmeal. Make sandwiches as needed; play Guitar Hero as desired.

Really, I can’t even call it coasting. I’ve been interviewing when possible and dropping off resumes when not — it just feels like coasting, in part because I still haven’t the slightest lead for a job. Journalism around where I live has exactly zero positions available, and substitute teaching won’t warm up until school starts again.

4:23 p.m. — Shower.

That means six more weeks of joblessness; six more weeks of Deep Space Nine reruns; six more weeks of migrained boredom. I need to do something.

4:52 p.m. — Apply online to big box retail and national chains. Touch up resume or work on cover letters, if needed. Repeat until tired.

I find something to do.

4:53 p.m. — I’m tired; I keep up the job hunt.

Even though I exhausted all my leads yesterday, I try to come up with new ideas. For me, idly looking for a summer job is better than futzing around on a feed reader, or on the blog, or on the forums, or playing Tetris, or organizing my iTunes.

7:09 p.m. — Exhaust all leads. Go back to Guitar Hero.

I’d give up the chance to get five stars on Through the Fire and Flames if it meant I would have something more substantial to do. However idyllic doing nothing might seem to the guy from Office Space, I can report, firsthand, that it isn’t all that he cracks it up to be.

11:02 p.m. — Go to bed.

Doing nothing is, at first, an instant high, but really it’s just empty calories for the brain — I feel my brain atrophy already.

I feel like my life has been in shambles lately. My future is hazy. My apartment is a disaster area, and I had a mid-term yesterday that has been taking up all my free-time that wasn’t aleady being taken up by marathoning Friday Night Lights with Lynn. In an effort to catch up, I think I’ll write a series of short posts on things I was going to write about, then didn’t in my abyss of ridiculousness. Hopefully, this can jump start my new plan to blog more, with shorter posts. We’ll see how this plays out.

And now the first installment of short, stupid stories with Amanda: an email exchange with my mother during work hours.

I’m finally figuring out why I might be having some small breakdown about the three month stretch of summer ahead of me: It’s the first time since I came to college that I won’t be working at camp. This may not seem like a big deal to readers who have never been to or worked at camp, especially my camp, but this is an extremely difficult transition for me. Camp has basically been my summer for the past two years. It matured me. It changed the way I see and work with kids. It changed the way I see Judaism. It basically led to me going to Israel. It led to my current debate about my future career. It gave me incredible friends from around the world. It’s weird to think about how the whole kind of started on a whim. (I smell a flashback brewing….)

One day freshman year I was sitting around contemplating my summer. Sitting at home in Ohio working retail didn’t seem to much fun, and I wasn’t going to be able to return to the job I’d had the previous summer working at a children’s theater downtown. I think I was watching (as sad as it seems) MTV’s documentary special “Fat Camp” when I started thinking that working at a camp would be kind of fun. (It’s a shameful source of inspiration, I know.) I’d never gotten to go to “Jew Camp” as a kid, which is slightly bizarre for a young Jewish kid. Going to camp in the Jewish community is a pretty accepted right of passage. It’s so ubiquitous (yeah, I just pulled out some college level vocab) that during my sorority recruitment, the Jewish house on campus had a camp-themed night, assuming anyone serious about joining their sorority had that shared experience. I came close once, but a botched attempt at attending a YMCA camp in 5th grade put me off the idea for a while.

But I digress, after running the idea by my mom, I started to apply to JCC (that’s Jewish Community Center for you gentiles out there) run camps within driving distance of my house. I had a few interviews, but finally landed on the JCC in Cleveland’s camp as my first choice. Not only was it the closest camp to me, but they way the directors described it during my interview gave me chills. When I asked what made each camp special during my interviews, most directors explained about their killer facilities or their complex activities system, but what Meredith and Jodi (my soon to be bosses) described was the energy their camp had. They explained that when all the kids stood up cheering at lunch or sang together in their sprit circle (which sounds waaay more corny that is it, because what it is is just awesome) there was this intense, contagious spirit that everyone possessed, that made even the most difficult of kids want to stand up and cheer, that made you forget about how you looked or the fact that it was raining and made you just want to have the best time possible. They could not have been more right:

(An attempt to show spirit circle in all its glory)

So I excitedly accepted a position as a general counselor for the summer of ’06. When I got to camp for the first time, my excitement deflated a bit. Basically everyone who worked there had been attending slash working at camp for most of their lives. People who were new like me were generally foreign staff. I got asked about 10 times a day “So, why are you here?” It was weird and awkward and a bit like moving. I felt very out of place and grew worried that I had made a terrible decision. How could I fit into a group that had been forming without me for most of my life?

Then the campers arrived and slowly, everything changed. Things became much more about the kids than about the counselors. I suddenly had things to discuss with everyone I couldn’t make conversation with before through the shared experience of shaping these kids’ summer. I was placed in a cabin with two other staff members and 12 13-year-old girls. I could not have asked for a better cabin for my first session. The girls LIVED for camp, and quickly taught me everything I needed to know to get by. They taught me village cheers, they prepared me for Macabia (our 28 hour color war, aka the biggest day of camp), and helped me get through my first spirit circle. As things fell into place with the kids, everyone with the staff got easier. I made friends with the staff in my village and soon, I felt like I’d been there forever, standing on my chair at lunch singing about prunes (loonnnggg weird explanation for that one) and toasted cheese. It slowly became the perfect job. I got to play all day, getting free tennis and rock climbing lessons in the process. I got to spend my Saturdays tanning by the pool with my best friend Sharon, and I got paid to do it! I got paid to act like a kid, while having actual responsibility. I had to take a kid to the hospital and break up fights. That doesn’t sound like fun, but I felt useful and important and helpful. Kids never look more grateful than when you kill a spider for them or give them a snack. By the end of the summer, I knew I had to come back.

I applied to be the drama instructor for the summer of ’07, just to change it up and get a new experience. I was a little nervous about the new job and the fact that some of my best friends weren’t returning to camp, but Sharon would be there, so I figured I’d get by. (Sharon is a bit of a social butterfly, and by a bit, I mean she is literally friends with everyone at camp despite that fact that she started when I did…) I got to camp for staff week and immediately bonded with the lovely Sarah Mac. (who I inspired to blog. Score!) Instantly I knew the summer would not only be as great as the last summer, it may just cross over into legen- wait for it-dary territory.

I could not have been more right. Sarah, Sharon and I formed another instant bond with Lillian, a staffer from England, and I became great friends with Lindsey, a camp lifer who took off summer ’06, so who was new to me:

(Sharon attempting to stuff fries up my nose on a night out. Clearly, we have a bond.)

(Things turn ugly)

(But I clearly gain the upper hand.)

(Lillian, Sarah, Sharon, and I saying our favorite phrase: Hazzah!)

(Lindsey and I in NYC after camp)

Basically, camp was the same (aka fabulously fun), but I had even better friends, taking everything to a whole other level. Plus, I loved my new job. I got to direct two productions (High School Musical first session – you know you are jealous that my extensive knowledge of the HSM dance moves actually helped my job – and You’re a Good Man, Charlie Brown second), and I recently found out that my drama cabin activities were voted one of the top 10 cabin activities in camp. Everyone loves some improv games.

It is so hard to explain what makes camp so special. Yes, I loved my job teaching drama, but that was only one aspect of what made my summer special. I’ll try to explain with some specific stories:

1) One night after stopping by the pool for a staff swimming event, Sarah, Lillian, and I walked out onto the large rec field in the middle of camp, and after doing some cartwheels and impromptu dancing, we all laid down with our heads together and just stared up at the ridiculously clear sky and talked about how cool it was that three girls from three different countries could be sitting in the middle of nowhere Ohio together forming this amazing friendship. Where else does this happen? I’ll probably remember that forever.

2) First session, I was chosen to be a captain of one of the five Macabia teams. This is a HUGE honor. Really. It shows that the directors of camp and the judges of that particular Macabia (other staff members chosen by the directors) think you can take on the task of being responsible for a fifth of the camp for a day, inspiring them to have tons spirit, to give this day all they have, and to make it the best day of camp for them. After being violently awoken by Sarah in the middle of the night and made to walk to the center of camp blindfolded, I was so excited to learn I had been picked. The next 28 hours were some of the most tiring of my life. I screamed. I ran miles around camp. I jumped and yelled and waved our Shrek flag high (yeah, we were the Green Shrek team of the animated movie themed Macabia). I wasn’t so focused on winning as I was on making sure my kids had a great time. My co-captain was pretty focused on winning. (He had one of the best win records in camp, apparently). Well, the afternoon of Macabia is capped off by a giant relay race called The Great Race. The race ends with the captains building a fire to burn through a rope, and when the rope burns, the entire team runs to the flagpole and freaks out. Well, my co-captain and I completely owned at fire building and built basically the fastest fire in the history of camp.

(Suck it rope. You’re going down.)

When our fire burned through the rope, I took off as fast as I could toward the flag pole where my entire team screamed and cheered for a good 20 minutes. I didn’t think the day could get much better until I stood in front of the stage in front of the entire camp, holding my co-captain’s hand, thinking we couldn’t win since we had won the Great Race – it’s a camp myth you can’t win the Great Race AND win all of Macabia – when the judges turned their pitchers upside down and poured water all over me. (See, the judges each stand behind each pair of captains with two pitchers. One pitcher contains something different then the others, and that is the one of the winning team. In our case, all the pitchers were empty except for the ones above us, which, as I said before, had water in them) At first I thought I was being hit with water from the team beside me, but then it hit me as my entire team flipped the hell out. I then took off running again toward the pool, completely high on excitement. As per camp tradition, the judges and captains always run into the pool fully clothed at the end of Macabia. I broke my not-water-proof watch in the process of pool jumping, but was totally worth it. It was one of the best moments of my summer.

3) Second session, my fellow cabin staffers and I wanted to do something special for our girls, so we bought each of them a charm to make into a special cabin bracelet. The thing was, they each had to give their charm to someone else who had inspired or influenced them in the cabin. We figured the girls would do well with the activity, but even I was surprised by some of the things they said about each other. When a camper who I had in my cabin both sessions got to give away her charm, she gave it to me, saying I had helped her have one of the best summers of her life. How can you not have a good night after that? I still have that charm on a necklace I wear all the time.