Sad story of my life: I never went to camp as a child. It felt like all my friends did – they would leave for four to six weeks during the summer and come back with ridiculous stories about cabins and counselors and all the fun they had. And I had been at home watching Bug Juice and Totally Circus (which also made me want to join the circus) on the Disney Channel.

Right before I started my freshman year of college, an older friend said something very interesting to me. He said: “Living in dorms is basically like an extended version of summer camp. But with more drinking and less laundry.” I explained to him that this metaphor was lost to me since I’d never actually been to summer camp. After he briefly mourned the fact that I had missed out on an epic childhood experience, he said, “Well, summer camp is basically being dirty all the time and vaguely annoyed by everyone around you, but you’re too busy to notice because you’re simultaneously having fun and trying to keep your head above water.”

Too true, sir. Read More »

"Just smile through the pain. Smile. Through. The. Pain."

I’m not sure if I’ll be able to make it here another two weeks. I may kill myself. Or someone else.

I say this because yesterday I was forced to do a mini-triathalon. I’m not sure if I’ve ever endured greater agony than what I just experienced. Alright, that’s sort of an overstatement, but it really was incredibly effing hard. I could use a nap right about now. Until next Tuesday.

Since my last post (and weigh-in) I’ve lost at least 7 pounds. A couple nights ago I looked at a picture taken of me the night before I came here and one taken the other day and I saw really exciting results. I’ve definitely halved myself (at least in the stomach area).

Other discoveries since this last weigh-in: Read More »

All my life, I’ve been heavy. When I was younger I was ridiculed and bullied constantly about my weight problem, so I was always fairly depressed. Sure, I ate a lot (…of pastries), but my eating never warranted the amount of weight I would actually gain. It was strange – I went to camp one summer and came back 30 pounds heavier even though I barely ate the slop I was served the two months I was away.

At my heaviest (which was in eighth grade), I weighed 230 pounds. I had been to a fat farm (fat camp, weight loss summer program, what have you) for two weeks before entering my last year of middle school but I had gained everything I lost back. My parents and I realized it was time for more drastic action, and with that I was enrolled at Camp Pocono Trails for eight weeks. Read More »

You’re so busy with classes (and a rockin’ social life), you can’t seem to get ahead in the finance field.  Sure, summer might be a great time to soak up some sun for those college students who are lucky enough NOT to be struggling with student loans, car payments, credit card bills, etc.  But for a large majority of us, summer is the time to keep working our asses off… and get paid.

If you’re stressing about debt, never fear– summer is just around the corner.  And if you act now, chances are, you can secure a summer job so you’ll be ready to pay for books, bar tabs, and fall semester housing come August.  The question is, where should you look? Read More »

A few summers ago, I worked as a CIT at a day camp I had attended as a child. You’d think that going to work at a place that was a major part of your childhood would be pretty awesome, but those eight weeks proved to be an utter disaster. I try not to think about it and, so far, I’ve been fairly successful at suppressing those memories.

But this article in the New York Times reminded me of a particularly nasty piece of work I encountered during my counseling duties that summer. She was the mother of two abnormally hyper and mischievous twin boys who I had to supervise on the bus every morning and afternoon. Frankly, the kids were easier to deal with than this woman. She makes the helicopter mothers mentioned in the article appear to be merely “concerned.”

In addition to supervising a group of kids at the camp, my older brother and I were bus counselors on the vehicle that transported campers in our area. Every morning as the bus approached her house, the crazy woman would come outside wearing her pink, flowery robe and greet us with a sickeningly sweet smile, only to go completely apesh*t on us that afternoon. She would yell at us the moment we pulled up, blaming us if she got a call that day from the camp about her devil spawns’ misbehavior.

I’m pretty sure she was bipolar, because one moment she would be calm, and the next she would be screaming like a banshee about how the camp was lying about her boys’ behavior and how we should be fired for not doing our job. She called the camp director just about every day to complain about us and the lousy job the boys’ group counselors were doing. I fought the urge to tell her that her parenting was the problem, not our performance. Read More »

Being a sleepaway camp counselor is nothing like being a camper. If any of you forgot what camp is all about, let me give you a not-so-hypothetical situation:

You’re sitting on the side of the soccer field while the sun is drawing a tan line of your favorite flip flops on your feet. You’re at the front of the massage line (what could be better?) working on your latest pink and purple string friendship bracelet. The heat reminds you to bring your squeeze breeze to the next activity and you cannot wait for rest hour to play spit on your best friend’s top bunk, which, of course, you always win.

Since I arrived at camp, my daily activities have been slightly different. The campers have not arrived yet and my day has run a little something like this:

7:30 AM: Bugle call for wake up

8:00 AM: Breakfast (consisting of a choice of bagel, cereal, sometimes eggs , rarely bacon. Okay, not so bad) Read More »