Camp Kern

From the moment I got back from Camp Kern in sixth grade, I couldn't wait to be a senior in high school and be one of the counselors. All throughout high school I listened to seniors rant about how amazing being a counselor at Camp Kern is and how much fun they had. But to say that after I experienced it I was a little let down would be a huge understatement. Day one: The bus ride to the camp with all the sixth graders. Definitely fun, but the first glance at just how energetic these kids were going to be all week. Then lugging suitcases and sleeping bags to the cabin and having only a short period of time before the longest three days of my life. There is literally not one second of rest. From the time you wake up in the morning(when you're ACTUALLY getting up for the day, not the ten times that a sixth grader wakes you up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night), it is non-stop action. Day two: Running around hunting for fossils with kids who absolutely refuse to follow directions. Listening to the same teacher yell the exact same words to the disobedient children over and over and over again. Finding out at eleven o'clock at night that the seniors are not allowed to shower because the sixth grade girls took too long and it is "time for bed." Not that it was too much of a dissapointment considering the scalding hot(literally, you can not stand directly under it) shower water. Then having the girls in your cabin talk so much that a teacher comes and makes you sleep with the cabin door open, letting whatever bugs wish to enter come right on in. Day three: FINALLY. The home stretch. Or so you think. Yes, the beef in your breakfast burrito is exactly the same meat that they used in the hamburgers, sloppy joes, and the salsbury steak. But getting through yet another meal of picking through lettuce at the salad bar and eating all the bread you possibly can to keep yourself going has barely begun. A three hour game of playing indians and settlers is coming, and it will be never ending. When the teachers come to get you and tell you the buses are arriving soon, run for your life. Run for the candy that the kids have been eating all week and stuff your face. You need sugar. You need to lay down in the parking lot on the hot pavement and sweat until the bus arrives. When the bus does come, an hour late, it's hard not to laugh at the overly excited second batch of seniors ready to have the "time of their lives." Good luck.

Sonnet 55

Senior

Last Saturday was the basketball players and cheerleaders senior night. It did not really hit me until that night, when all the underclassmen cheerleaders were crying, that this is really it. For three years I helped plan and organize six different cheerleading senior nights, but my own senior night always seemed far away in the distance. I made shirts, candy bags, cakes, and build-a-bears. I bought tiaras, picture frames, and giftcards. Yet through all that, I could never picture myself standing on the basketball court and cheering my last home game. I never imagined doing my last band dance, holding the warrior banner for the last time, or calling my last cheer. Now that the season is over and the tournament is about to start, I am beginning to see the end of my 14 season cheerleading career. I will never forget the day in fourth grade when my teacher handed out fliers for girls who were interested in beginning a cheerleading program the next year. I will not forget practicing on the upper field, getting my first uniform, and learning my first cheers. The memories of cheering in junior high and moving up to JV and then cheering at my first varsity game will never escape my mind. The friends I have made have become my best friends and the ones that I know I can always rely on. It is weird to imagine turning in my uniform and participating in my last competition, but I know that it is coming faster than I can really comprehend.

Jellyfish

Walking along the beach in Destin, Florida, I always see a lot of jellyfish. I have gone to Destin the past two spring breaks and one of my favorite things is walking besides the water and seeing all the jellyfish and shells buried in the sand. Of course at this point the jellyfish are all dead because they have washed up and gotten stuck in the sand. But it does not make it any less fascinating to look at their clear bodies and try to find the biggest jellyfish that I can. Last summer as I was walking with my friends we came across this one, which is the largest that I have ever found. Two of the boys decided it would be fun to cut it up, so they actually borrowed a family's shovel used to build a sand castle to dissect the jellyfish with. Soon after I took the picture the only thing left was a pile of clear and gooey mush. They each took a small piece back to our condo and searched what a safe way to eat a jellyfish is so that there is no possible way that poison might be left in it. Turns out that one must soak it in water and keep it refrigerated for a certain amount of time and then either boil it or grill it. I doubt that it tasted very good when they finally ate it, and their parents were not to happy about it either. But they seemed proud to have found such a ginormous jellyfish and, like all guys would, figured out a way to consume it.

Love Song

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SbKGsEK_T9g

The love song that I chose is I've Just Seen A Face by The Beatles. The lyrics are pretty simple and repetitive but carry a theme that is important. It talks about how he has just seen a girl for the first time and can not forget that moment. He is not necesarily saying that he is in love with this girl yet, but that he hopes love will come. In fact, he is so excited that he wants to shout it to the whole world what he has just experienced. This song was written a while ago, and I think love songs have definitely changed since then. There are rarely songs written now about the simplicity of meeting a girl for the first time and wanting something more out of that.

Arrowhead Lake

Last summer I discovered my favorite town that I have ever been to. With the majority of my relatives living in Hollywood, Los Angeles, San Diego, and Sacramento; most would think that family vacations could not get much better. But last year my Grandma Helen passed away and one of her wishes was to have her ashes scattered in a small stream running from Arrowhead Lake in Mammoth, California. Mammoth is where my aunt grew up and where her and my uncle live now. It is a tiny town based around a ski resort on Mammoth Mountain. I have gone to California every year since I was born, but for some reason our relatives and us have never vacationed in Mammoth. Because of my grandma's last request about her ashes, she brought us all together in Mammoth last summer. Her four children plus husbands, wives, children, and children's children. When I found out that Mammoth is all mountains and that I would be hiking, mountain biking, and going fishing, I was less than thrilled. All I wanted was a summer lying out in the sun. Not hiking on mountains that still had mass remnants of snow on them. But after saying goodbye to my grandma one last time in the stream, we hiked the rest of the way to the top of the mountain. When I caught my first glance of Arrowhead Lake, I immediately fell in love with Mammoth. I understood how my aunt had lived there her whole life, because I never wanted to leave. I stopped complaining about all the "outdoorsy" things I would be doing for the next week, and absolutely loved every single thing that I did. I caught my first fish where my grandma caught hers, mountain biked, and became obsessed with Ben and Jerry's ice cream. I will never be more grateful for my grandma bringing my family together in such an amazing town.