July 12, 1999.

God, so much to talk about. The wedding was wonderful - slightly marred by my continuing fatigue, but overall it was just lovely. Once again, I came to a cynical conclusion about the 2 of them that was dead wrong. There is real commitment there, and real love. Emotions were running incredibly high all night, and I was swept away by the tears at least once. It's nice to be an adult at a wedding.

My happiness was nothing to the Boy's, however. This is his first Italian wedding, and he had a riot. I had to stop him from pulling me on the dance floor again and again: I was slightly nauseous all evening from too much rich food and too little sleep. Also, my shoes were a fucking nightmare. I had forgotten my dancing pumps at camp, so I had to get emergency shoes that morning. They're wedges with straps...lovely to look at, but they hobble me as effectively as a rope through my ankles. Looked good with the dress, though...I wore my Fireball diva dress with elbow-length gloves and a flock of glittery butterflies in my bouffant hair. Got compliments all night long & people started to bug me about getting married - in a way, I felt like I was coming out, like they were welcoming me into the adult sphere. Didn't catch the bouquet, though.

Spent some time watching Jessica, the girl cousin I use as a yardstick to my own identity. For awhile I felt superior in that she looks very much like a mother and I can still pass for a maid...but then I started to feel cheap. It must be a drag to be in your midtwenties and know that your face no longer launches 1000 ships. Not that my face does, I'm just thinking about lifestages and the sorrow when you pass from one to another. But she did look super happy with the baby. I was nearly jealous.

Nic was a vision. He'd shaved his scruffy face & allowed himself to be tuxed up for the occasion...and he even genuflected after the approach! My brother, the angry atheist. I wondered what his punk friends would think of him, if they saw him all respectable-like, dancing obediently with a bridesmaid.

Friday was a pretty neat day as well. My Little China Girl's mom came to pick her up & we chatted about the week. I mentioned how much I liked LCG's pink puppy backpack, and her mom replied regretfully that they'd got it in Hong Kong. A few minutes later, LCG came downstairs & started cleaning out the bag, something I barely noticed at the time. When she'd finished, she smiled, dropped the bag on my lap and said, "My mom told me to give this to you. We'll get another one in Hong Kong."

I was overwhelmed. Not only did I admire the bag, but it's also inextricably entwined with the essence of LCG. I never knew a bag could make me so happy, but I giggled & glowed for hours. I even bought cheap fuchsia sandals to match. Some of the other counselors - the ones who are my friends - are jealous. Others seem to suspect that I pulled a fast one on sweet LCG. Whatever. My parents are also underwhelmed...they seem to think I'm too old for pink backpacks. And my brother and the Boy are developing a dislike for it, as i keep threatening to replace them with the bag. This put the Boy on his best behavior for the wedding, for "Amoret +1" could easily mean me & the bag.

Exhausted this morning. I wish I didn't have to do all the cutting & pasting for yearbook tonight...I'm going to be right miserable come tomorrow. And the ridiculous act we're doing for the talent show: we're line dancing like the G-p commercial. Hoo boy.

10:25 p.m.

Oh, the continuing exhaustion. Also tired of feeling dowdy (I need a haircut), tired of feeling left out & tired of feeling ineffectual. It's just that too many people jump on the tasks and I feel worthless. Also, I miss having close friends around me. Sabrina and I are meshing even closer as the days go on, but selfish little puss that I am, I want more.

I've discovered that one of my primary motivations in a staff meeting is wondering glumly why Rex doesn't like me. Although I'll reiterate for my own benefit as well as yours that I don't have a crush on him. I don't even want to spend more time with him. But I do want to feel familiar and jocular when we meet by chance. I've become so obsessed about this, so fixated on being Rex's friend as a benchmark of my social success that I've reduced my personality to shy dork mode. I can't even be my obnoxious self around him - it's too risky. All this is accomplishing is exactly nothing...except that I've worked myself into a state of nervousness whenever I have to talk camp business with him. What a stupid girl I am.

I dunno, maybe I doth protest too much. Maybe I do have a crush on him. I did get butterflies last time we spoke, not the pleasant kind but that's not a sure indicator. I'm often miserable taking to the object of my crush. Then again, I haven't had a crush since 10th grade, so I'm not as familiar with the phenomenon as I used to be.

All I know is that when I found out that the 3rd secondary counselor is a friend of his from McGill, I immediately thought, 'they're fucking.' And that was the cherry on my little wormwood sundae. Not only is his attention elsewhere, but they get each other while I get lonelier. Notice that I have no proof for my hysterical assumptions. But in the best Shakespeare tradition, I'm letting my emotions run away with me. Maybe at the end of it all we'll have a masquerade & speak in iambic pentameter. Now that would be a summer to remember.