Camps for Champs

That's what I was doing all week. I think this was the sixteenth summer in a row that our church has run Camps for Champs. They're sports day camps for kids in the community, and for the last couple of years they've been run by a Camp Director (which is a summer job, generally for a college student or graduate) a couple of adult coaches, and whatever crazy youth happen to be up for helping out.

So I was a crazy youth. And the week was definitely crazy. I think the utter craziness of it can be summed up by saying that the camp, which was soccer this week, was 3/4 boys and 1/4 girls. The noise was amazing. It's truly astounding how much noise a group of 35 kids can make when they're not even trying.

My last five days looked like this:
8:05 am - Leave the house. This was because Grace had to be somewhere at 8:15 and though Ben and I didn't need to be at the church until 8:45, there was no point in driving Grace and driving back. Anyway, this was my first experience with having to consistently be up early and out of the house and organized with a lunch and etc. I don't think I'd like to do that for school all year. Thursday morning I woke up AT 8:15 to find that I needed to be in the car in fifteen minutes, in which time I needed to get dressed and pack a lunch and collect whatever paraphernalia I needed for camp. Not fun.
8:45 am - Meet with Hayley (the director) and pray with the other coaches/helpers before starting camp. Usually by this time a couple campers had already arrived.
9:00 am - Camp for the day officially starts. Mostly we played a game until everyone had arrived, such as the infamous titles The Animal Whacking Game (only without the animals) and I Have Never. That one was fun.
about 9:15 am - We head over to the fields, a five-minute walk, to start soccer for the day. We played in older and younger groups, from about ages 5 to 8, and then ages 9 to 11, and throughout the week we did different drills. Thursday morning we did play a game, coaches on campers, and I discovered that when it comes to sports, I am truly more of a liability than an asset. It's a victory if I kick the ball in the right direction. Oh well.
12:00 pm - Lunch. It was interesting, packing a lunch. Forgive me for ruminating on something you probably all do so much that it's second nature, but I don't actually think I eat like that at home. Little packets and plastic-wrapped sandwiches and stuff.
12:30 - Afternoon activity. That or Kidmo. We'll call it afternoon activity, but they switched back and forth. The first day, this was something I can't even recall, but the second and third days, two groups went swimming and two did a scavenger hunt and some paper mache. The fourth day...I must have left bits of my memory somewhere because I can't remember this either...and the fifth day we played mini olympics. Three-legged race, tug-of-war, water balloon toss, the lot.
2:00 - Kidmo. This was about half an hour of video, in which the campers learned a verse and had some teaching, as well as Quizmo, which was worth points. Points were tallied at the end of the week and the winning team got a prize. Theoretically. Actually I think everyone got the same prize at the end. Anyway, then we did little activity booklets and made WWJD (What Would Jesus Do?) bracelets.
3:00 - End activity. This was sometimes a game, sometimes something like painting our paper mache, and the last day we made ice cream with ziploc bags and much ice, shaken for a long time. A LONG time.
3:30 - The kids go home and the coaches and helpers collapse and listen to Hayley talk for a minute before she takes pity on us and sends us home too.

So that was a fun week, if a really (REALLY REALLY REALLY) tiring one. Some cute moments include:

[One of the little boys, after the coaches won the soccer game] "Congratulations, you guys won. Good job. Cause it doesn't matter who won as long as we all had fun!" <--The complete sincerity of this one was a bit awwwww.

"How old do you think she is? Take a guess."
"Ummm...going into grade 10?"
[cue indignant noise from me]
"And how old am I?"
"I think you're in your first year of college."
[cue more indignation from Melda, as I don't understand how I look as though I'm just going into high school while Tyler is college-age]

[This was one of the little boys who completely ignored me until...]
"Coach! Coach! I saw you in the swimming pool with a pink swimsuit!" <--Okay, he was about nine, and I think he had a minor crush on me all week.

And next week I head off on vacation. W00t!

Melda

Tolerance

This has been on my mind a lot lately. Issues like tolerance and freedom of speech. For one, they've been coming up in the paper. An example I read recently is of a comedian who had two lesbians come into his act and start - his words paraphrased - basically making out with each other right there in the audience, and bashing him. So he bashed them right back, which seems a standard thing for comedians to do. I mean, if you let everyone stand up and yell at you, it's not your stage anymore, it's just a bunch of people yelling. I won't go into the language he used, but he told them some pretty rude things, just as they had told him some rude things.

The outcome? They're taking him to court. And he could be ordered not to make lesbian or gay jokes ever again in any comedy he does if they win.

How is this free speech? Pick a friend. Any friend. Then randomly be like "so, do you believe in free speech?" Well, DUH. If anyone knows an individual who honestly does not believe in free speech, I'd be very interested to know. But while yes, this is a right, that we are free to say and think whatever we want and express our opinions about any given person - guys, it's a two-way street. If you believe in free speech, people are also allowed to bash you just however they like, and you need to grin and bear it, not go running to a court because your feelings are hurt or you feel insulted. Guess what: That's part of life. Deal with it.

And this brings me to tolerance. From my dictionary application (I love that thing):

tolerance |ˈtäl(ə)rəns|
noun
1 the ability or willingness to tolerate something, in particular the existence of opinions or behavior that one does not necessarily agree with : the tolerance of corruption | an advocate of religious tolerance.

So, sounds good, right? Yeah, let's all love each other and get along and be one big happy family. But the world doesn't work like that. What the tolerance movement seems to be telling us is that we are not allowed freedom of speech. We are not allowed to think thoughts or speak words that have the potential to make someone else feel insulted. We're not allowed to have a moral problem with homosexuality - that's homophobia. We're not allowed to evangelize our religion, because that's 'shoving our beliefs on others'. What tolerance says is that we need to live in a box that people build for us.

And really? I'd love it if the world was made up of people who could graciously and tactfully express their problems - heck, if we hadn't messed up at the beginning of time, there would BE a perfect world. But there isn't. Use the example of communism. It works on paper. It works very well on paper. It should work in society. Does it? No. It doesn't. If we were all perfect, communism would work flawlessly. It's the same with tolerance - if we were all perfect, it would be fine. But no matter what, there will always be someone who is INtolerant. And that person is going to bash you however they like whenever they like.

Tolerance says you need to sit there and nod calmly and smile.

I'm sorry, it's just not going to happen.

Perhaps I'm reading too much into a specific situation, but many times, primarily on the internet, I have seen people preach about tolerance and sing its praises and how oh-the-world-would-be-a-better-place-if-everyone-were-only-tolerant. These same people are generally preaching about this in a specific context - either berating someone who seems intolerant or wailing about the intolerance of the world in general. Logically, if you were really tolerant, you would tolerate my intolerance, yes?

None of us will. None of us will sit there and smile at someone who is bashing us - and this is why we have freedom of speech. Take your pick. Either everyone can express their opinions and hurt just as many feelings as they please, but have the freedom of expression; or everyone can huddle in a little box society creates for them and squeak every time they come close to being politically incorrect. Personally, I can deal with a few feelings hurt. I take the former.


"I'm on my last page, and my circles have gotten progressively less perfect since the first page."
"Really? Mine have just been consistently mediocre."

Beethoven's fifth symphony

It puts me in an interesting mood. I have to listen to it for music History 3, but the actual music is the most enjoyable part of the course. Reading about Beethoven has been pretty inspiring, too - a deaf musician? Can you imagine being that unbelievably talented and then losing your hearing? I read that he had to be turned around to see how wildly people were applauding after his Ninth Symphony (the one with Ode to Joy) because his hearing had completely gone, and he broke into tears. Just...wow. I actually think the Classical era is one of my favorites for music. Mozart, Haydn, Beethoven - really, who wants more? I mean, not that I don't love Bach and Handel and Vivaldi. Vivaldi's Four Seasons = LOVE. But Classical will always hold a special place in my heart.

In other news, I have trouble saying no, getting out of bed when I say I will, and I'll probably always be hopeless at having a busy life. Yeah. I've started to reread Wheel of Time, and am enjoying the first book probably more than I enjoyed it the initial time through. Mostly because this time, unlike then, I did not read the whole book trying a million different ways of pronouncing Nynaeve and Egwene. No, I did not discover the glossary until I finished the book. I was also unclear on the definition of an Aes Sedai for probably the first three. I like Rand SO much better in the earlier books, before he goes angsty and emo. It's not that I judge him for being angsty and emo, because if I were him, I would probably be more so, but all the same I like him better now.

And that, I think, is all for tonight. I am going to go to bed. Or rather, I am going to get ready for bed, read Eye of the World until I can't keep my eyes open, shut off the light, and dream of a certain angsty romantic pairing and a k-word.



"Hi, I'm Ben. Remember me? I was your brother before you got that laptop."

Lookit!

I made this yesterday.

I'm actually SO proud of it - 41 layers! And the most fun with brushes that I've ever had in my entire life. I love swirly decorative-looking brushes. And my precious rain texture, and Caribbean Blue texture. Yes, I use both of these on half the graphics I make. Probably good I'm not going into graphic design, tee hee. I have problems with variety.



"This could be minorly problematic."
Best Phantom Grey quote ever.

Things I love

(and that have happened in the last few days)

- Staying up late talking about character philosophy
- Listening to thunderstorms
- Thinking of ideas and having time to write them
- Believing that dreams actually do come true (watching Enchanted helps. Hehe)
- Lying in bed just thinking
- Waking up and doing devotions and enjoying them
- Feeling like you know what, life's gonna be okay, I'll just roll with it
- Talking to five people simultaneously in different MSN conversations and genuinely enjoying all five
- Getting so wrapped up in a story that the characters seem like real people (and feeling for them like real people, too)
- Wondering if I am one of those people I looked up to so long ago
- Doing something I know I'll enjoy doing and not caring if people think I'm weird
- Feeling guilty, angsty, uberly hyper, mournful, and excited all at the same time (this has to do with the one three above this one, yes)
- Singing random songs to myself, in the shower and out
- Looking back and seeing that I've grown
- Enjoying little things like compliments and yummy food
- Being proud of a 40+ score on the Mary-Sue Litmus Test, cause I'm not changing a thing
- EPIC (read: angsty) crystallization
- Enjoying the quiet and not minding the loud
- Reading excellent fan fiction
- Liking cheesy little signature dragons and giving them names

and last but not least - trusting that ultimately I am not the one who plans my life, and the one who does is far better at it than me.

So I feel very poetic now. Often that happens before bed. All my poetry gets written at two in the morning. I often also like it after I've slept, which is remarkable, because there are times when I wake up and go "Melda, WHAT the HECK were you THINKING?" after writing something late at night. Yes, I do refer to myself in third person, and often as Melda as well. If people call you something long enough...I do not kid, if I was ever in a random public place and someone shouted "Melda!" I would turn around. Yep. I think I'll write another post later when my thoughts aren't so fragmented by wanting to sleep.

Melda

[several quotes]

"My member of parliament calls my dad. A loser."

"Will, can't I even walk around you without you trying to kill me?!"

"Oh, here's the coffee. It was in the syrup container."
"...I had that on my waffles this morning!"

"Does anyone know where my swimsuit is?"
"Oh, it's on top of the freezer."

"If you remember nothing else from school, remember what it feels like to get out for the summer."