little to note

well, other than getting out to see SAW II, and carving some pumpkins, there’s little about this past week to mention. . . but since i feel the need to write. . . i’ll bore anyone that feels like checking in, with my latest bout of insomnia.

since i work such late hours during the summer, i rarely have trouble with sleep, other than not getting enough. yesterday i was sleepy around 9pm, but forced myself to stay awake till around 11pm. i picked up my book, did a little reading, then turned off my light and commenced to not sleep. usually if i have trouble drifting off, it’s because i’m mulling over some problem from work, but last night, my mind was wandering through my early teen summers spent at different summer camps. not as far back as any girl scout camps but mostly the basketball camps, and a little of the one music camp i attended.

i don’t know what i was looking for. . . or what my mind was looking for. but i had a feeling like i was trying to figure something out about my current life in accordance to my past. i had no revelations. i saw nothing new, or even gained new perspective on anything i already knew.

there was one evening at a basketball camp when i stayed for some after dinner events. we were in the field house at potsdam state maxi hall. i remember that there weren’t many people participating in the drills, but coach welch (sp?) was there.

coach welch was the potsdam bears basketball coach. throughout my preteen and early teen years i attended the bears basketball games. they were amazing for a number of years. the pep band was phenomenal. . . how could they not be with students from the crane school of music heading them up? the games were riotous. after winning the tip off, or sometimes the first points of the game, (which was almost inevitable) the crowd would break out into a chant of, ‘WARM UP THE BUS, WARM UP THE BUS.’ and a shower of toilet paper would stream across the court. (ps. . for those of you who are unaware of living in colder regions, sometimes vehicles need to be plugged in and ‘warmed up’ preemptively to someone driving or riding in it. this is sometimes a lengthy process because it can get DAMN cold in northern ny) perhaps now everyone gets the joke? it would become an especially low dig to a team if they got the, ‘warm up the bus’ chant after announcing their team roster. ahh, then there were the chants of, ‘hey opposing team member, we just got a call from your mom. she says, YOU SUCK!’ ahhhh, those were the days. there were kids in my high school who would argue about the st. lawrence saints vs. the clarkson knights (nearby college hockey teams) but i couldn’t be bothered with such drivel, the bears were winning.

but i digress.

there we were, just a few of us, and i may have been the only girl. . . something i’d gotten used to even by that point. i remember that there was another kid from my school there too. the challenge was to get as many points in a thirty second period as possible. lay ups were worth one point, outside the three second mark was two points, and so on. . . as i said, we were given 30 seconds to rack up as many points as possible. i don’t even remember if there were ribbons, certificates or anything on the line for winning. the other guy from my school went before me and kept shooting for the higher point range, but when he missed the ball would ricochet and he’d lose time retrieving it. before it was my turn i had made up my mind. . . what were all those lay up drills in practice for anyway? i stepped up to the basket and coach welch called to start. i don’t think i missed a single one. . . though that may be me romanticizing my own past. . . anyway, i made something like 20 lay ups. i ended up winning in my division. . . which ended up not mattering too much since they not only broke it up into age groups but also into boys and girls. so i was the only one in my division. i had won over the boys too, but that didn’t seem to matter.

so, the award wasn’t big, but coach welch walked back to the lounge area of the dorms with the group of us and wouldn’t shut up about it. he was telling all the other coaches and anyone else that i had fired off 20 lay ups during the drill. of course i enjoyed the praise a bit. . . but it got a little unnerving. then as he said it again, some kid came up to say that he had made something like 23 or 25 lay ups in the same time. even though coach welch had seemed all proud of me, he turned and said, ‘yeah, but you’re a guy and she’s a gal.’ nothing about the fact that he was several years older than me, or a good foot taller than me. . . nope, just that he was a guy. even then it got under my skin. so it’s not like i was able to look back on it now and say, ‘hey. . . that’s not cool.’ i just relive it, and then wonder a bit about how i decided to wear purple zinc oxide just below my eyes, like football players that entire summer. . . something that other people liked to poke fun at. . . i felt completely justified in it. it kept me from getting sunburned where i was most sensitive (my face) and it kept a bit of the glare out of my eyes while out in the outdoor courts. . . and how my favorite shirt was a hot pink number with cut off sleeves and ‘Toronto’ written across it. . . yeah. . i was the height of eighties fashion, even if no one around me agreed. kind of like that girl in your class who dressed a little too much like madonna or cyndi lauper. . . but not exactly. i forget who i was idolizing. . . surfers? the cast from breakin’? whatever. . .

so yeah, shit like this. . . constantly running through my mind. flashes of my roommates from camp. different concerts and contests. . . the terrible clothes i used to wear. . . . is it any surprise i couldn’t get to sleep?

oh, and that terrible girl from potsdam central who informed me that basketball was a ‘gay’ sport to play in the hallway of our dorm. . . to which i replied, ‘um, YOU play, and we’re at a basketball camp!’ she then retorted that it was a gay sport for boys to play. oh, right, that makes TOTAL sense! what a freak. it does help slightly that i ran into her at a grocery store, years later, when we were both in college, and for all seen purposes. . . i’d say she had a point so many years ago. . . . and perhaps it was her back-ass-wards way of coming out of the closet to us.

ohohoh, and how i ended up in both the concert band, and the jazz band at music camp. . . i played french horn, but had picked up the bass guitar for my high school’s jazz band. i decided to walk by the try outs for the jazz band with my bass in hand. . . just in case i got up the courage. . . and there was no one trying out for bass. i remember it gave me more of a chance to hang out with the cute trumpet player from the concert band, and i remember how i refused to play a solo even though everyone gave me grief for not doing it. . . i HATE solos. . . .and i’m no good at improv music. . . . and how there was a different kid that kind of liked me, but how i was too interested in the aforementioned trumpet player to even flirt with the other guy. . and the terrible girls in the french horn group who tried to oust me from everything, mostly because i was a commuter. . . ahh the politics of band camp. . . and more bad clothes. . . but not as bad. . .

. . . is it any surprise i couldn’t get to sleep?

i read some more. . . then put in a tape of muppets tonight. . . remember that show? the newer one from the 90’s about the muppets hosting a tv show? it was really good. . . and i fell asleep to it last night.

and yep. . . that’s all i’ve got. i could go on and on about details and humiliations and how much fun i had. . . .but, i gotta get to bed. . . and hopefully, i’ll get to sleep.