Second day of fish camp 2010 dawned bright and early. Too early, after a dance party the night before. All of my cabin and I groaned our way out of bed, blearily stumbling around. I can only imagine what it was like for the counselors, who had been up for what, two days straight I believe? I know I was dead tired already, and it had been one day.
So. Breakfast happened. I brought up the rear with my own, knowing they probably would have nothing I could eat (I have Celiac's for those of you who don't know me). I was very right--they handed me two hardboiled eggs. Yay. But it was protein, and there was a fruit bar I could mostly eat, so together with my lovely Udi's gluten-free granola all was well.
I can't even remember fully everything we did that day, or what order it was in, so I'm going to try and guess. I know we went to the main area and gathered for more presentations on TAMU resources and such. And I know that morning we also went and played games at what was basically a pavilion (not my favorite moment--I'd never played most of the group ones, and it was kind of annoying, not to mention confusing, when I had no idea what was going on. Of course, I'm clueless a lot of the time, so that's not unusual. It's still frustrating.) When we split into our DGs, that was better...we hit the high 80s in Moonball (is that really the name for it, or were they just being fancy? It's the game where you keep the ball in the air as long as possible. Seems kind of silly to name it if you ask me), which was cool. And we did some fun jump-rope tricks with another group. I managed to get through it without humiliating myself, which was perfectly lovely. After all these sports and such were more skits (again, hillarious) and then lunch. I was dragging a little behind and managed to be last in line--nothing I hate more than walking into an almost full cafeteria and trying to find an empty seat.
This was horrible, won't lie. I walk in to the Red Camp area dead last, and there's not a seat left in the whole damn place that I can see. I walk around for probably 5, 10 minutes trying to find a spot. Finally one of my counselors notices my sad plight and finds me a seat at the end of a table--awkward, but better than sitting in the bathroom to eat like I was contemplating. Thank goodness for goodness.
I spend lunch in kind of a quiet haze--I haven't met any of the people I'm sitting with, but they obviously know each other. They're nice, though, very welcoming of my kicked-puppy status, and it works out ok. Lunch itself is, on the other hand, disgusting. Last night they gave me a dry chicken breast with pepper on it for my meal (the whole gluten-free thing); today it's...the same. I will find out over the next few days that I will eat a small, dry chicken breast and a bowl of lettuce and olives (can't even really be called a salad) for 6 meals over four days.
Food aside, the day goes pretty well. Afternoon is made up of more videos, more games, more DG time, more chilling. We have a shaving cream fight that coats us all head to toe with Bar-ba-sol, and spend an hour more in the sun rinsing off one by one with a hose. We go to a dance at 7:30--flashback mixer. I feel awkwardly overdressed in my 70s style dress, but it's fun for a little while, while they play some music I know. Then the rap hits. Now, there are two genres of music in the world that I hate passionately, and while I occasionally like a song from either, they don't make me like the genre as a whole any better. One of these is rap. (The other is country, but that comes later.) So, I'm bored out of my skull after a few minutes of bobbing in place. One of my counselors agrees with me on the subject, and we head down to the Aquarium (full of foosball and ping pong and pool, oh my!), where we play foosball for the next hour or so. We beat another group by a few points (not a small feat, in my opinion-I'm wearing a dress and my hair keeps falling in my face, and since I'm goalie, it's a lot harder than it usually is for me.)
Then, we have to go back to the dance floor. We do the Aggie War Hymn, and leave to go back to campfire. Tonight is a little more somber, and yet a little more at ease. I feel bad about saying this--our speakers were our co-chairs, and what they had to say was really interesting--but after they had shared their personal stories that made me personally get teary, they gave us a talk on "building our TAMU house". These guys are pretty eloquent and relatable, but I just couldn't keep my mind on it--my head was spinning with all kinds of new thoughts. Could I actually like A&M? I'm certainly enjoying fish camp, even with the awkward "I need to find a place to sit!" annoyingness every day. Do I actually want to go here?
Maybe you're thinking, that must be a good thing, right? Yet, it's not that easy. Sure, I'd love ot be happy at A&M, but it's a hard thought to wrestle with. For years now my biggest dream has been to go to New York, to graduate from Columbia University, a school I've been in love with since they sent me a copy of "Some Blue Notes" and I saw they did a production of 12th Night on the steps of the library every year. My sophomore year of high school my parents took me to New York specifically to tour Columbia. I felt right at home on the campus, staring at the beautiful old buildings and dreaming about walking those halls as a student. The people were friendly, it was in New York--the Mecca of theatre goers--and it seemed perfect. Since I found out I would not, in fact, be going there, I've been debating about whether or not to try and transfer. I don't like the thought of having to start all over again, but I figure there's no way I can be happy at A&M. There's very little theatre. My mom had pushed me toward UT with the idea that if I hated school theatre, there was plenty of community theatre I could involve myself in. Since I'm a theatre major, this is kind of a big deal to me. I don't know what I'll do if this department is a bad fit. I may have to switch majors, if I want to stay at A&M, or switch schools if I don't. Of course, up to now me actually liking A&M hasn't been an idea that crossed my mind very often. I treated this first year of college grimly, like an exam I had to take. I have been of the opinion that if I want to have a good college experience, I'm going to need to transfer.
Now, everything is different. I love the traditions of this school. Some are goofy and fun, some are incredibly touching (i.e., Silver Taps and Muster). I find myself dreaming about my children calling for me at Muster, hopefully more than 50 years from now. I think about football games and yells, and even about wanting to be a fish camp counselor. All my plans, my dreams, my ideas about my future are being turned around. I don't know what I want anymore, and it terrifies me.
Thus filled with doubts and frustration, I make it through campfire time with one ear to the outside and one on my own private struggle. I don't really know how I feel about A&M anymore. I know how I feel about fish camp--these people are fantastic. But A&M itself...well. I'm starting to doubt myself, my decisions. What if A&M is exactly where I should be? But what if I stay here, and it destroys my carefully planned out life? I hate being confused and unsure. I want to know what's going on, where I'm going, how I'm going to get there; I want to have a plan. Liking A&M is not part of the plan.
I'm not in the mood for dancing by the time everything's done with, obviously. So when everyone else starts up the strobe and antics in the center of the dance floor, I head outside and sit for a while, thinking. I don't want to go back to my cabin-I don't want to be alone-but I don't want to sit on a dance floor in the mood I'm in. One of the counselors (Gotta love 'em) finds me like this, and takes me to a room where we play a game that confuses the hell out of me, but is entertaining all the same. I have fun until it's time to go back to the cabins, at which point I crash into bed, all fears forgotten for the moment.
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