Week one, nearly survived.

I really lucked out. My campers finished their work early today and then spent a half an hour looking at pictures of kittens on the internet.

Look at them.

You'll understand.

Sometimes things are magical.

CAMP! CAMP! WOO HOO!

I'm still not all the way packed yet. That's okay... I'm beginning to remember just how much I secretly enjoy the pressure of a quickly approaching deadline. In health class they said there can be good stress and bad stress. After weeks of just boring nothingness, the stress is feeling rather good. I'm super excited about tomorrow's "BONDING ACTIVITIES." Ohmy.

I hope I can get some sleep. And wake up in the morning.

Dead poets.

We decided to meet again at the old church. As his punctuality slipped and slid into lateness, I wandered among the ginger bread gravestones, aimless, trying to feel the bones beneath my feet. A couple approached, the woman fifty feet ahead of the man. She asked, "Are you looking for Robert Frost?" I knew what she meant. She pointed me in the right direction, even though I didn't say yes.

Oh god, I need to write.