Dear Disney....You're Doing it Wrong.

Dear Disney, you’re doing it wrong. 

In 1998 you showed the world what summer as an adolescent could be like. You showed us that puberty is best discovered and tamed within 2 months of confined cabins with severely outnumbered and under-qualified counselors. In 1998, you chose to choose and entered the theme song that I promise anyone who has heard it would not forget it:

BUG JUICE. It was on par with Zenon: Girl of the 21^st Century, Brink!, and Smart House. You gave us three summer camp filled seasons and then……nothing. I WAS A SUMMER CAMP fiend. My favorite movie of all time: Heavy Weights. MTV’S true life: FAT CAMP, I VHS-ed that shit. The Parent Trap: I know every word. SALUTE YOUR SHORTS, don’t make me start singing. DISNEY- you are doing it wrong. EVERY summer camp experience caught on film, whether planned or not, has a gravitational pull like bugs to the pretty purple zapping light of death. YOU NEED to get your shit together and probably bring Bug Juice back. It was your greatest mistake cancelling it. I get it- I have NO idea what kids these days are interested in- but I’ll tell you what, you tore my heart out. Summer CAMP is what brought out my extroverted tendencies, it’s where I had the MOST fun during the summer and would do everything I could to go back for more weeks of awesome. So in lieu of my summer camp deprivation, you gave me a piece of what I was missing.  

 

I’m not going to lie, I still look at summer camp jobs as a 20-something. My shit is like 86.3% together at this point but I’m on the verge of needing a new direction. Summer Camp just feels right. Maybe I should go back to school AGAIN and just go the teacher route and THEN spend my summers as a camp director. That could be on point or a huge mistake that says “bye bye ambition” (NOT that teachers don’t’ have ambition, it’s just not in alignment with my personal career goals aka mah teacher friends are AMAZEBALLS). WHAT I’m saying is, Disney, you’ve done so many things right but I just can’t forgive you for this. I can only watch Heavy Weights so many times….just kidding,  I can watch it todos los dias (that means all of the days in Spanish…you’re welcome).

But what it all comes down to is that YOUTHS of today are missing this. They don’t even KNOW what they are missing!

 

HELP the summer camp economy; help the YOUTHS leave their cell phones behind, HELP the YOUTHS forego childhood obesity and GET THE HELL outside. HELP THEM to help you…this is how this would go:

Step 1: Kids go to summer camp

 

Step 2: Kids have revelations about their experiences: 

Step 3: Kids learn about love:

Step 4: Kids learn about conflict 

Step 5: Kids go home and miss summer camp 

Step 6: Kids are too old to go to summer camp

Step 7: NOTHING. YOU’RE WELCOME.

LIFE LESSONS HERE PEOPLE. LOVE, LIFE, CONFLICT MEDIATION. SUMMER CAMP is like pre-freshman year at college without the booze and with a little more guidance….unless you’re a junior camp counselor. We need to stay away from the Jr. Camp Counselors….too old to be at summer camp, too young to be a boss. 

AND IN CONCLUSION, bug juice doesn’t come in a jar, we hold Camp Anawana in our hearts, you might find your identical twin sister in the next cabin over, and lunch is usually cancelled due to lack of hustle and it’s important that we deal with it. SERIOUSLY, DO IT better Disney: bring back televised summer camp, HELP THE YOUTHS, and make good choices and stuff. HLOCK out *Mic drops*.
 

 

You Can't Hug Every Cat

So here I am. I may or may not have pulled an epic now you see me, no you don’t card. Flawless execution, impeccable mystery, and my sleight of hand (and or being) was on point. I never took myself for much of a magician but I feel magical for my ability to just free fall like Tom Petty always said to do.

So where was I? I was trapped in a glass case of a master’s degree program that I may or may not use to my benefit. The rest of the United States of the America’s does this so, it only made sense that I would jump on this band wagon too. I just love music and I can’t say no to a hay ride! YEEHAAAA, where the hell are my boots?!

So now what? Now, I try to figure out a new normal. Figure out what it’s like to only do one thing at one time. So far, seriously,

All aboard the STRUGGLE BUS! Please keep your arms and legs inside the vehicle at all times until you feel like you’re ready to be your own stunt double in one of those really exciting action movies with THE ROCK (have you seen what this guy eats on cheat day?)

.......and explosions, and maybe a guy that looks like a spider and crawls on buildings, or MAYBE Chris Pine will be all like, “Hey Girl, I’ll beam you up” straight out of Star Trek during the only time it was cool, ever. Thor would be pretty neat too #hammertime. So what I’m saying is- someone should have some sort of cape and magical ability to lure me off of the struggle bus. Yeah do that because you know what’s not getting me off my bus?

Orange. Is. The. New. Black. (OITNB)

  

How long did it take me to watch the second season? One day. JUST one. Bingeing on Netflix was like on my top ten list once I broke out of grad school. The real world was just such a new and exciting place. I was scared at first, really. I didn’t know if I should contact my friends, I didn’t know if I should try to eat normal foods without saturated fat and a receipt that said “Thank YOU come again!” I needed to watch this. I had to watch this. I couldn’t stop. Why? Because I was an educated convict of the state of Virginia, trapped within the walls of learning and immediacy- TRAPPED within my personal expectations of “A’s” or die. Did you know you can’t get honors in graduate school? Do you know what that means? I hate myself. EFFORT is a bitch. I just gave too much of it, so not cute. I could have saved it, utilized it when the going really got tough. Truth be told- the going got more than tough but that’s why my hair is so big, it’s full of secrets. 

So OITNB, I’ll just wait another year to watch 13 episodes straight and be disgusted with my self-discipline and how it only arises when something commercialized goes straight to my hips. Damnit. #peoplesayimagingwell. OH SHIT. I’m aging, not a lot. I can’t complain about it yet. I don’t think I’ll ever really complain about my age unless I’m doing something really stupid- then I’ll complain, like cats. CATS, now that IS stupid. My sister is already on the crazy cat lady train and I just can’t jump on board.

  

Unless I have a cat that visually gets excited to see me, then we’re talking. I need a cat that smiles and can’t control its ass from wagging its tail too much when it’s just trying to say hello. If I find said cat, then yes,  I might start complaining about my age……because it’s stupid and not realistic. Reality checks are like super important for individuals who are entering the life of the late-twenty somethings or who are entering the life of the early thirty somethings. Why are these reality checks super important? BECAUSE, when shit happens, life happens. BUT WHAT DOES IT ALL MEAN?! It means, breathe, stretch, shake, and leeeeeego. If there is a rule book for what I should be doing as a 27-year old woman, than by all means throw it my way. Sounds like some excellent late night reading!!!! OH the HUMANITY of engagements, weddings, babies, christenings, job promotions, and the FACEBOOKS telling me “Yo, girl…..you look supafly not doing what everyone else is doing.” WOAH, rude Facebook, AND it’s not my fault that you pick up on the people that I’ve been stalking. Girlfriend had a ROCK, of course I needed to stalk that shit. NOW, now she’s all up on my news feed. Just rude- there is way more going on. Like the funny cat videos you ALSO strategically put in my news feed. Haha, silly kitties. NO, this is what’s happening. IT’S YOU Facebook that could be the demise of all my good juju. I’m too young to complain about my age and we’ve already been over that Cats=ohhellno. 

 Wear your seat belt, raise your hand, make good choices and stuff....Yeah. Cats. Hell no. #okmaybe #fluffy #ImnamingitSteve