Gross. When I started typing this entry I put my fingers in a thicket of cobwebs and crusty hatched spider eggs.
Since May 2nd, I finished school. New graduates always have a way of saying that so frankly. In a way I think it's trying to give a nice firm punctuation mark to the really long sentence of college. If I remember correctly, I think my last words as a student were "Well, that's that."
So now summer has started. I'm employed again, with the same job as last year, only now I'll probably have a lot more to do and keep track of. The two main jobs are pool clerk and a clerk at the contact station. The pool is heaven. It's so easy, and so delightfully boring, and you even get to meet some interesting people. I taught a girl how to ride a bike last year, and her grandmother fed me hotdogs whenever I wanted. The contact station is different. It's am actual building, as opposed to a shanty. I've only worked there a couple of times, but up there there's paperwork. And instead of excited crusty kids and their parents, there's campers. People who want to go swimming are easy to deal with; you can play them. The grand equalizer over which I have complete control is the pool and the small fee they have to pay to use it. Campers are different. You have 42 foot phallic symbols pulling up to the building, driven by domesticated men who are having a "rugged spell" and decided to take the RV out for a weekend. They are self-assured pretend woodsmen who "dunna have time for this civilized-world paperwork shit. ders a STORM a'COMMIN'!" Paying for their campsite threatens their wilderness fantasy or something.
I am glad to be employed though. Almost every cent, save for a small beer budget, goes to Germany.
I want to push my Flickr page which has all the better stuff I've captured with my new camera. You can see it here. A lot of it is shit, but some of it I'm really happy with. Enjoy those.
Maybe I'll write more entries.
There's something to be said about sleeping as late as I do. I miss countless mornings, lying unconscious in my bed. But for those rare mornings that I do see, they're always more beautiful than I remember.
On that note, goodnight.