1:50 AM, Sunday, July 25, 1999:
When I woke up this morning, I had a blue handkerchief wrapped around my head in the "Cycloptic Bankrobber" design. I was lying in one of my family's Northface sleeping bags (well designed, those) on the floor of a church in Hays. The reason for this unusual setting for me was that I was returning from my youth group's retreat to Camp Buckhorn, Colorado. This is the main reason I have maintained Internet silence for the past week. There is another reason, but I'll get to that later.
Although I am going to describe the trip more thoroughly at Omniscient Realm, I felt like typing here first. The week went by faster than I can comprehend; it was over and done with in a matter of moments. It was, nonetheless, one of the better trips I have attended and will probably make the top 10, if not, the top 20, events of my life. For many trips, such as my Philmont expedition this time last year, the experience lingers through the following days, leaving a tainted reminder of past glories. Not this one, though. This trip seems an eternity ago, and incomprehensible in nature. I find it hard to believe that I was at camp only yesterday, despite the fact that there is no conflicting memory to fill the gap.
Something about the event was disconcerting. Whether it was the greater closeness we all gained, the amount of disease prevalent in the group, or the events themselves, I cannot tell. One part in particular sticks out more prominently in my mind, and not simply because it was most recent; the trip through Littleton held a great amount of awe for me. People have compared that town to my own. Having seen it firsthand, as well as Columbine High School, I find the comparison both amusing and depressing. To put it bluntly: Littleton is a head and shoulders above anything our town can produce. The upper-middle class affluence was overwhelming. I lack the strength to continue writing, so see Omniscient Realm later for a more thorough introspection.
Oh, and a side note: I purchased Final Fantasy VII, my new favorite game of all time. It shouldn't even be called a game; more like an interactive story.
3:38 AM, Monday, August 9, 1999:
The trip through Colorado was no where near as disconcerting as the trip to WSU Band Camp I went on a while back. Go see Omniscient Realm.