I'm at my computer for the first time in over a week. It's really rather liberating. I don't have internet access at home you see, and I've been camping so there has been no email checking, no web surfing, and definitely no blogging. Never fear, however, I've been writing in my head.

Of course, I've also been drinking so I might forget everything I've written.

Let me begin with how much I love to camp. It is difficult in this day and age to say you "love" anything without sounding sentimental and clichéd, but I do love to camp. It makes me happy. I can't wait to go and I rarely want to leave. The real problem with describing it isn't so much that it sounds bad to say "love" as it is that love no longer carries the weight it should--thus when I say I love to camp it sounds like I like it a lot. In reality I think I need to camp or my soul withers and dies. That perhaps better communicates what the great outdoors does for me.

I was in California, near the beach and spent my days on the beach. I watched the sun set over the ocean; I played in the water. I laughed as surfers rode the waves. I woke up cold, but with fantastic bed head every morning. I don't know how I feel about California. I vacillate on how much I like it, but it is beautiful. There are a lot of people there, but I understand why. And the Pacific ocean, oh the Pacific. Is it any wonder so many people run to it? I have to admit, I think I prefer the Pacific to the Atlantic. I know coastal people are very protective of their ocean, but the Pacific is just so fantastic. It feels bigger. And the water is so gorgeous. One gets in and for just a second you're not sure you care if you are swept out to sea or not. I understand, I think, why people chose life on the sea. It is never easy for me to leave the ocean when I'm not living next to it.

All of this is waxing philosophical of course about the beauty of nature and the spiritual aspect of camping--boring stuff I know. If it makes you feel better I alternated between expanding my consciousness and checking out surfer boys who were way to young for me. This is the duality of my self. Truth-seeking philosopher on one part, shameless male objectifier on the other. My fellow campers and I also spent a great part of the weekend discussing various liquids produced by the body (specifically urine) so don't believe for an instant we were all sitting around being deep.

And I must tell the tale of the wonder twins. While two of us were off walking I stepped away for a bathroom break and a walk myself leaving two others back at the campsite. When I returned I saw our group had grown by two twenty-one year old undergrads. Both of these young men were incredibly intoxicated and so intent on imparting life knowledge to us that it can be described as nothing but precious. There were two moments in particular: the first came when it was still myself and two others trying to casually usher the drunk bopsy twins out of our campsite. "These are the best years of our life!" one slurred at us. "This is it. After this it's all over." Such words of wisdom from a twenty-one year old. He went on to ask if we had read Death of a Salesman and one of us had, but none of us were particularly interested in discussing it. That didn't stop him, though, oh no. Plunging ahead he informed us that after college life was, in effect, over. We didn't correct him that we had all survived graduation happily. No doubt the idea of out growing the nineteen and twenty year old girls he has been dating is disturbing him greatly.

The second great moment came when genius #1 asked the men in our group if they preferred to masturbate right handed or left handed. This in itself wasn't spectacular (I had already covered all necessary masturbation questions on the first day as is my habit) but he followed his question with a disclaimer to the other female and myself. "I'm sorry ladies, you may not know this," he said helpfully, "but everybody masturbates." I'm really, truly happy I ran into him on this camping trip. Had he not been there to inform me that everyone masturbates and to watch out for my female sensibilities I might have gone to the grave thinking the only person masturbating in this world is me. And that would have been just sad.

There was also a reasonably entertaining story containing the characters of Den Mother, Goofy-foot Dudley, and Dirty Harry the girl with more hair, but those characters will find life in other writings. The humor really revolved around the young Leonardo Davinci relating the story more than it did the characters themselves. All-in-all a very memorable experience.

I'm working my way up to more thought-provoking writing on alphas vs. betas, highschool crushes, and masturbating, but I'm not quite there yet. I'm still trying to get over my separation from the ocean and even though I don't hate the desert--it certainly has its moments and its beauty--I might have to live on a coast some day. Of course, I still have to get a grown up job and that means I might end up in Arkansas, but we'll all hope that doesn't come to pass.

Until then I bid you adieu, and offer you this picture from my weekend.