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AIM:
Aedies
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Name:
Well, my first name means "free" my middle name means "the perfect one" and my confirmation name means "source of joy." You figure it out
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Age:
(10x+2)/3=456
Activities:
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Swimming, piano, chorus, small group, work (yaaay for old ppl), plus that brick hellhole they call school.
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Hobbies:
Music in general. Occasional writing for fun. An obsession with embroidery floss (No, not the stuff you use on your teeth, but the stuff that you make bracelets and stuff out of). Laundry (this is a forced hobbie). Hiking, And probably some other stuff too...
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Oddities:
An extreme love for salsa, soup, mushrooms, Simon and Garfunkel, cute things, sarcasm, and stale chips...(do NOT ask about that one)
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Work
Feeding the old. Though they're not exactly helpless. No, they're paying good money to be served food at the Village. They have to be. It's so fancy there...all those chandeliers *glazy eyes*
And that's it for me!
"Forever Young" Rod Stewart
Saturday, July 20, 2002
2:49 PM
Oh boy, have you missed alot. Though, I will admit that you have only me to blame, considering I'm the one who updates this thing. So, the big question on everyone's mind, has been, of course, swim camp and things related to it. Let's see if I can summarize this as best as I can remember. . .
The first day of camp is always my least favorite, simply because we end up swimming till about 8:30 at night. So, we unpacked, and wonder of wonders, I didn't end up in the same exact room as the previous two years. I ended up on the fourth floor, two floors under it. It was nice not to have those two extra floors to climb. So, the swimming was easy, as always on the first day. The only thing I really didn't like is the fact that we have to do a fire drill on the first night. They make us climb up the stairs to our room only to go down the stairs when the loud alarm sounds (which did not sound like a whistle, as they promised it would) and then go back up again when we'd established everyone was there. Stupid, I know. This year the first night was made a bit more interesting by the fact that my roommate and I got in trouble. We'd stayed up half an hour late talking. The coach on our floor came into our room and told us to shut up and go to sleep. I got into my bed, and I realized I had left my flashlight in my roommate's room. So I whispered, "Alex, can I have my flashlight back?" All of a sudden, the coach comes barging in, yelling "What would you be needing a flashlight for?!" She had been listening outside my door. And then she took it. I was a little less than happy. I wasn't terribly concerned though, I had a plan to get back on her good side, as you'll read later.
So, the rest of the week was pretty normal. I basically hung out with a bunch of kids from my team. And it was almost all guys. Guys who were slightly younger than I. Guys who had no table manners whatsoever. *Shudder* Spaghetti night was a nightmare. One kid, Danny Palmiotto, refused to change his clothes the entire week. By thursday he could name every stain on his clothes, as well as when he got it. Boys can be so icky. I did my fair share of reprimanding, but they got back at me later. Oh, and on the second day I executed operation get back Fran's flashlight. Before going to bed, I noticed one of the youngin's on my floor trying to perform her own dental surgery in the bathroom (ie, she was pulling her tooth out and there was blood all over). So when the coach came into my room for lights out, I made the pretense of being concerned about the girl. The coach assured me she was okay, and then we struck up a conversation about Harry Potter. Next thing you know she had gone back to her room to get me my flashlight. Operation get back Fran's flashlight was a success.
Now, as anyone who I talked to in the weeks leading up to camp knows, I was to be visited by someone during the week of camp. Well, it was thursday, the last full day, and that someone was no where to be seen. So, I'm in the cardio room on my little running machine at 10:30 AM thinking to myself, "He's probably not coming. He probably had a swim meet or something. Oh well." So, at twelve we go to lunch. I'm just about done and am conversing with my table when everyone stops talking and looks up. I keep going for a fraction of a second, not realizing what's happenning. Then I look up, and he's there. I stumbled over about three peoples' chairs before recieving a hug. We immeadiately found a quiet spot in the common room to go talk. And we talked for about two hours. Apparently he biked, uphill, 2 miles just to come visit. And I don't remember if I mentioned it, but for his birthday on September first last year I made him one of those embroidery floss anklets. One of the first things he made a point of showing me was the fact that he was STILL WEARING IT. Wow, says me. So, we talked and talked. He brought his little sister too, which was cute, and she seemed really nice. She was smart too, for an 11 year old. A good kid. He made me play piano for him and his sister. I made him do a card trick for me. Most embarrassing moment: When he got up to go to the bathroom, was out of view, and David Ely shouts out "Hey Fran, has he kissed you yet?" I don't think he heard. Or mebbe he did. Oh well, I don't want to think about it. Best moment: When he said goodbye, I got one of the best hugs, complete with that, "I think I want to kiss you but my sister's right here and I don't know how you'd react" kind of tension. Overall, it was better than I could have hoped. And I got teased so much by the boys after. I think it was retaliation for my being the manners police. Oh well, I couldn't help it.
Unfortunately, I really need to go change for work, but that was camp in a nutshell. This is probably one of the longest I've ever written, but hey, there's a first time for everything.
The funkily ground-breaking,
Fishie
"Solsbury Hill" Peter Gabriel
Wednesday, July 3, 2002
8:02 PM
Let's face it: Nothing happens in Brookfield. I really have no interesting things to write today. I kinda just ended up here. Maybe I'm bored. I need to figure out how to increase my attention span so it's more than that of a goldfish. Oh wait, there is some news. Some not so great and some bad. And then there will be babbling. You have been warned.
The not so great news...Well, the dangers of hiking finally caught up with me yesterday. Upon painting my toenails after my daily routine, I discovered that somehow I had grown a new freckle. And then I said to myself: "Self, your freckles are not black, and do not move. Better look again." So I looked again. Guess what? Self was right. It was a deer tick. Not 24 hours after an reading an article in the local news about how the deer tick population has increased, I find one on my lower left leg. Needless to say, I was somewhat freaked: to the point of crying and panicking. Hey, give me a break...two years ago my brother had lyme's disease and developed bell's palsy, which is a temporary paralysis of the face muscles...meaning I had a brother who looked like a pirate when he smiled for about 3 months. You can see why I was upset. Anyway, I shouldn't have been. We were going to the doctor for camp physicals an hour and a half later, she removed it, and assured me that it hadn't even bitten me yet. Oh well, I'm glad I found it anyway.
As for the bad news...it's official: my grandfather is going to loose his other leg. He's already missing one, but by taking this other off, he looses almost all hope of ever walking again. Meaning, he will probably require 24/7 care...care that we, as a family, or The Village cannot provide. So basically, he's not going back. Which, in a word, SUCKS. All his friends are there. He's their absolute favorite. And now he's not coming back. And to top it off, guess who has to tell them? Me. All the residents, all the staff. How am I going to explain this to 100 ppl when the very thought of it almost has me crying?
But I'm stronger than that. Life goes on I guess. I'm not supposed to worry myself with things I can't change. I guess this is one of them. On a happier note, I leave for swim camp in 3 days. Selfishly speaking, it'll do me good to get away from all this. Honestly, I don't know how much more of this tension I can take. One minute my mother's happy, the next barely speaking. My father: even tempered one moment, and shouting at anything that moves the next. I know they don't mean it and I know they have alot on their minds, but that doesn't mean I'm not hurt by it. At least I can count on my sister. Lately, she's been, well, my rock. I can always count on hear to make me laugh, or to help me feel better. What a good kid.
The tense but funkified,
Fishie
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