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January 28, 2002 perpetual camp Friends and family have observed recently that I seem "Blue," that I'm no longer "comedic," that I am "a drag," that they would rather "get a root canal" than be around me, and that maybe I should "kill" myself.  They are right, of course; except for the self-murder part which is not only against my religion, it's messy. My parents used to send me off to camp each summer.  I hated camp because it was far from home and because the cabins were stocked with funny-smelling boys who liked to wrestle.  I never told my parents how much I detested camp because I could not bear to disappoint my father.  He thought he was developing my character and I didn't want to burst his bubble.  Anyway, I survived the gut-wrenching homesickness each year by concentrating on my homecoming.  No matter how bad I felt, I knew it was temporary and I'd be fine once I returned home. The past few months, I've felt like I used to feel at summer camp.  But I'm well aware I'm never going home.

©  2002 by the beastmaster