I'm writing and sitting in a big, comfy chair in the back corner of Barnes and Noble. It's freezing cold outside. Not too far away is a mid-thirty-ish, barefoot, overweight man reading The Ultimate Guide to the Mysteries of Harry Potter. That's a bit...disconcerting. I came here to study, and study I shall, but the notebook in which I'm writing the first draft of this blog is brand new and I would hate to taint the very first blank page with something as vile as Biology. So Pine Cove review it is:

I suppose you couldn't have memories without senses, but the amount of emotion that can be attached to a place, a song, a smell, is remarkable. Hundreds of memories from high school, then 6 more incredible weeks spent at that camp. Every time I go back I sit on a picnic table, (it's an essential part of the Pine Cove experience) and, as much as is mentally, emotionally, spiritually possible I relive it all. The weekend was fantastic and horrible.
I love mid-school girls; I love high school girls. I got to hang out with both. I got to dance and sing, and talk with friends. I learned to juggle...sort of. I didn't do homework. I didn't work. I sat. But I would be lying if I said it was all happy-go-lucky though.

PC is one of the places I feel most alive but it's also one of the places where I compare myself to others most intensely. There were four women in particular (the director's wife, the assistant director's wife, the full-time man's fiance, and the full-time woman) that I looked at and thought about how much more like them I'd like to be, and how much less like me I'd like to be. There were those moments, (well, to be honest, they were a lot longer than moments) when I chose to really believe that if I laughed, talked, dressed, looked, acted more like her then life would be better and easier. If I _______...then someone would love me.
Ok that's about all the vulnerability/transparency I can handle for one day. Actually that may be it forever. I may never blog or write ever again.