July 27, 1999.

We started a new murder game this morning. I have a feeling that this is a ploy to distract us from our cumulative fatigue. If so, it's working. Counselors have become remarkably skittish. It's kind of cute.

I decided last night that if I can order my life so that I never have to zip a sweaty, chubby girl whom I personally dislike into an ugly too-small velvet dress with applique sequins around the bib, that is certainly the course my life should take. As you can imaging, my misanthropy was in full swing last night, as indeed it has been since Sunday. My old mantra was "you can't like everybody and everybody can't like you." My new one is "I hate my damn wiener kids."

Yeah, I know this is a crappy state of affairs, so I decided to make more of an effort not to hate my damn wiener kids this morning. I was reasonably successful...I still remain aloof from them as much as humanly possible, but I've stopped snapping at them. Then again, we'll see what's what at bedtime.

I feel kind of sorry for them, though. They must be aware that I don't like them much. And that must in turn feed their general and cumulative disagreeableness. But as Chipette says, you can't fake what's not in your heart, and I cannot pretend to enjoy the fact that these unpleasant little leeches are stuck all over my soul for the next 4 days and 3 lonely nights.

That's another thing souring my milk; I'm so fucking lonely here. A lot of the counselors seem to be at camp themselves in terms of the fast bonding friendships they form. There's a party atmosphere here after lights out, which is something I'm not really interested in. They're awfully nice people, but most of them don't nourish my heart. So I'm in a state of paradox, caught between a welcoming social atmosphere that sometimes bores me to tears and my own solitary longings for home. More and more I realize that the term doesn't mean my parents' house anymore, either. I need a home of my own, somewhere that doesn't need to be relinquished after exams.

Is 22 going on 23 too old to feel scared at the prospect of moving out?

11 p.m.

That was sort of fragmented, wasn't it?

Much better afternoon, probable cause being the 1-hour nap I snatched in meditation class. All the kids were talking about their dreams and it was just too boring to be endured. It's sort of sad when you think that the reason this class is so popular is that it's a format which privileges no one. I don't think many of these kids have an uncritical ear into which they can speak.

As a result of this windfall sleep session, I felt much better about my kids. I don't really enjoy the time we spend together, but I don't loathe it anymore. This afternoon they were practicing for the talent show - my late addition wanted to do a solo performance of "My Favorite Things" (I'll wait until the retching has subsided) - and they all got in on the act, working out an explanatory sketch that I had to supervise. I heckled them mercilessly, which was loads of fun and a change from the past couple of days, when I would've just ignored them as much as possible.

A word about this "solo performance"...the girl who wanted to do it is just as vomitously precious as you can imagine. Acts like a godamn airhead all the livelong day, never shuts up, and goes on & on about loving the Backstreet Boys. I have a suspicion that the reason she asked for a transfer to my house was so that she could bully Codyanne that much easier (they're godsisters). Not that I feel too much sympathy for Codyanne...she's a thoroughly mopey unpleasant child, complaining about half the things she does and generally acting like a humourless clod most of the time. But I guess that if I had the Airhead bullying me to do things together, I'd develop a thorny shell too.

As for Allergia, my former "worst case scenario girl", we're actually developing a pleasant sort of relationship. I still have to be at her to throw away food packages and ask for her own portions in the cafeteria, but she doesn't require nagging. She's actually a pretty nice girl when you get to know her. Bedtime was a bit long tonight, as there were a few showers to be taken care of before all could be safely tucked in. I had sent them upstairs to get ready, when Allergia wandered back again to find a distraction. At this point, I was quietly listening to my own CDs, and somehow I convinced Allergia to dance to them. She's a very kinetic girl, all skinny arms & legs flung from a moving centre of balance, and she will usually move in sympathy to any background music. I don't know why I never thought of dancing with her before now...it was loads of fun just dancing, let alone dj'ing a mix of Pixies, Smiths and Squirrel Nut Zippers. There's something ultracool about getting a ten year old to spin around to "William It Was Really Nothing."

"And everybody's got to live their lives..."

This, of course, compares favourably to the fourth girl in my cabin, who rivals Codyanne in sheer mulish unpleasantness. It took me a week to figure out why I found her face so disturbing: she looks like the Baby With One Eyebrow from the Simpsons. I swear to God - buck teeth, permanent scowl and of course the one eyebrow. I've never seen such a hairy ten-year-old girl. Then again, when do I run into smoothfaced ten year olds in my licentious rambles through British pubs, smoky gothclubs and trendy university coffeebars? Again, welcome to summer camp. As Alexi used to say (quoting Chevy Chase), "it's all part of the experience, honey."

Tonight's event was the session's Talent Show, this time run by the "super responsible" secondaries. It was one of the most sexually charged school shows I've ever seen. I saw more tits & ass in 2 hours than I have...well, never mind, that simile's going nowhere, suffice it to say that I saw panties and I wasn't looking too hard. Codyanne got upset the time I use the word "oversexed;" I can imagine what she felt like during the "Hot Spot" act when 2 of the secondaries did that video sort of dance where you hump the floor and present your hindquarters to the audience. Oh, and they were all wearing bikinis. Constantly.

But the trashiness aside, they were just fucking annoying. The last act was a Spice Girls duet by (guess) the secondaries, and they were mobbed by girls the second it was over. I mean, come on. This isn't a fucking beauty pageant, you slutty little dipshits. (Funny how you get into 9 year old mode when you live with 4 of them in a hot cabin...I guess it's a prudish pheromone.) The counselors found solace by heckling the last acts with kazoos and doing a huge fake hug at the end of our act. Oh, and we sabotaged the dance following the show by playing older songs we liked, like "Come On Eileen," "Blister in the Sun," "November Rain" and "Buddy Holly." It was fun starting a mosh pit during "Song 2," fun refusing requests for Limp Bizket and fun seeing the blank looks on the secondaries' faces during "I Believe in Miracles." Petty but ooh so satisfying.

As for the other acts, they were pretty standard and of varying quality. Two more lip-synchs to "Barbie Girl" and that Backstreet Boys song with the vampires & "spooky" shit in the video, I don't know what it's called. Mortu stuffed his kids with food onstage again. The world's Ugliest Man sketch - again!! - done by the same counselor as last time!! Fortunately, it was saved from corniness by the connecting device the secondaries brilliantly stole from 70's SNL...the clever land shark. This was also the only reason that the "Dead Lobster Sketch" didn't live up to the Boy's gloomy recollections. Mmm. Nothing like Monthy Python with all the wit & timing removed.

Bah. Bedtime