#it's like I'm in the mall instead of the wilderness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

agumonger · 17 days

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Yume Nikki but it's a trailer for a Hollywood live-action adaptation

[Shot of a door. Someone is knocking from the other side.] MADO: Hello? Is anyone there? I'm gonna open the door, okay?

[The door is open, and we see a girl in a pink vest, with pigtails. She seems surprised by us.] MADO: Whoa. Oh. My. God…

[Reverse, sweeping shot reveals the Nexus. Some faint ""nondescriptly-tribal-sounding"" drums can be heard. A faint, poignant, echoing note is played, and the screen cuts to black. It's the first note to the flute theme.]

IN A WORLD… [Shot of the Neon World NPCs making funny faces]

…WHERE YOUR MIND IS KING… [Shot of Madotsuki looking confused in the Wilderness, with a weirdly broad angle, making her face look strange up close] MADO: I don't know why I started dreaming.

YOUR WILDEST DREAMS… [Scene in Forest World where one of the NPCS starts drooling all over her] MADO: But one thing is for sure… I'm never leaving home!

…CAN BECOME NIGHTMARES [Flute theme ends with another echoing note, and a thud.]

[Cut to the Mall. Mado turns towards the Toriningen cashier.] TORI: annoying squawk that takes a bit too long for comfort Hi little girl! I'm Tori, but you can call me Tori. Do you need drinks, eggs, bicycles, eggs, scrambled eggs, a ticket to hell…? Why do we even have those? MADO: Um, actually, I just want to know why I'm here. TORI: Oh, of course, me too, girl! Especially with these [beep] [beep] managers! Y'ALL DON'T PAY ME SINCE LAST SUMMER, YA BUNCH OF DINGDONGS!

[Basic electronic remix of the Toriningen Party, with 8-bit-ish soundfont. A Minion is running from the Dark World Ghost] ILLUMINATION STUDIOS PRESENTS

[Mado explores the FC Caverns with a lantern, and a cheap pixelated effect on top] PONIKO: I don't think you quite understand how anything works here.

BASED ON THE CULT CLASSIC BY KIKIYAMA [Mado going up the stairs to the Garden. The lighting seems weirdly off] PONIKO: And I can excuse that…

TAYLOR SWIFT as PONYTAIL GIRL [POV shot of Poniko checking Madotsuki out inside her house] PONIKO: But what are thooose!? The knee socks. They're, like, so passayyyyy! MADO: What's that even mean?

JOSH GAD as UBOA [Shot of Uboa and Mado trying to walk through the white sludge next to Akumu] UBOA: Well, you can look at the bright side! At least we're not inside THAT guy! MADO: Wait, what? [Akumu roars and goes after them, vomiting green instead of red. They both scream]

[Record scratch, someone clearing their throat]

JACK BLACK as MASADA [Masada is doing piano improv in a white spaceship with LED mood lighting that looks like a gamer bedroom, while Mado just stares blankly] MASADA: Space… you're so cool… and- oh, never mind, someone already did that one. Darn it! MADO: Um, okay.

and JENNA ORTEGA as MADOTSUKI [Poignant cinematic rendition of the saving theme] [Sweeping match shots of Mado biking through several worlds] MADO: I'm not scared! You're scared!

[Shot of Mado handling the knife like it was a nuclear weapon, and breathing heavily] MADO: Plus…

[Shot of Big Red waking up inside the Sewers. He looks like Prismo from Adventure Time but with human teeth, and he's drooling on himself] MADO: Maybe I could get used to this.

[Music abruptly stops before the last note] [Mado approaches the Rave Box. The Aztec Rave Monkey, eyes bulging in different directions, pops out of it and screams at her until she falls on the floor.] MADO: Alright, I guess this is my life now.

[Last note plays triumphantly.] YUME NIKKI (MY DREAM DIARY): THE MOVIE

[Kyuu-kyuu-kun is rubbing the pole. Mado approaches him.] MADO: So what, are you like "stimming" or something? [Kyuu stretches himself over her with a derpy grin.] MADO: Okay, okay, I was just saying!

[Last note plays again, with a resounding thud] COMING TO DREAM THEATERS NEAR YOU JUNE 26, 2025 RATED PG

#yume nikki #if you took psychic damage then i did it right

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maridiayachtclub · 6 months

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mobile tumblr does not draw its suggested tags from tags that have been previously used. meaning, I can't just type the start of a frequently used tag and have it go "oh, this again" and suggest the rest. it instead fetches what is popular and suggests that instead, even if I have never used that tag, would never use that tag ever.

for example, if I were to tag something as "rad video game stuff," my tag for video game stuff I like for any reason but that does not really fit into an otherwise specific category, I start jotting down "rad" and get not my familiar friendly tag I'm working towards completing, but suggestions of other things that start with "rad." repulsive and hateful things I am so displeased to see suggested that I start to think I need a new video game aesthetics tag.

but no! I will not change just because someone else showed up and started stinking up the joint. I will not surrender "rad" to bigots and religious authoritarians. I will not abandon the surfer dudes, the ninja turtles, the skaters, the valley girls, and the mall rats that made rad rad. it's a small front on the war on hate; it is not an act of heroism I commit but one of necessary maintenance. trimming a hedge, painting a fence that marks the boundary between a nurturing and welcoming home and the hostile wilderness beyond. nevertheless, the task has fallen to me and I will not shirk it

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uglywizardhat · 3 months

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wait how do you "train" your sense of direction??? i thought that was something that was just like part of how your brain works

oh you got me right as my vyvanse kicked in prepare for a wall of text. a year or two ago i read a book called 'the lost art of finding our way' and it rewired my brain. the book is more overall geared towards like...hiking and wilderness navigation, but there was plenty about urban navigation, and it made me think about how differently i approached the places i lived when i was exclusively riding a bike (just Go) vs in a car (gps).

he talked about navigation as a Skill, and a skill that can be learned. and while i felt like i had Learned well on a bicycle (more time to process the environment, using GPS is just kind of a pain in the ass, etc), i definitely hadn't in a car. i felt like i'd regressed in my ability to navigate, after i started driving. i knew the rough shape of the area, but that was it, and that felt bad compared to my bike era, where i was confident.

so one of the exercises suggested in the book was to make a map of the places you go within an average week or so completely from memory. the idea was to focus on their relationship to each other rather than specific directions. and my first map wasn't great, but it really did key me into how what i thought of as 'islands' (workplace, friend's house, etc) are all part of the same mesh. iirc it looked something like this

which isn't terrible, and was honestly a really good starting point for thinking about the most optimal routes between places. so i started looking up directions to other places i needed to go, and thinking of them as relative to landmarks i already felt confident getting to without gps. if i got lost, i'd pop open the gps, but not until i at least tried to get un-lost, the same way i'd operate on my bicycle. so now if i repeat the exercise...

this took like an hour and it's still not super accurate - i know my mom is way further north than the mall and some of these proportions are WACK, but in terms of like...knowing what connects where? i'm actually confident about it now. and a lot of it comes down to trying different routes and seeing what happens. if you have a basic idea of which direction you need to go, you can just keep going in that general direction and odds are you'll hit a main road you're familiar with. i'm a bit spoiled on having the Big Fucking Lake as a landmark, but try and find something you can triangulate yourself with.

also it's not about memorizing names. if i really thought about it, i might be able to label like 2/3s of the streets on my drawing? that's a ymmv thing, if names help you a lot, keep track of them, don't just let your gps announce them. but otherwise, notice and use landmarks. sometimes those are businesses, but sometimes they're cool trees or painted transformers.

it's genuinely super rewarding to actually know where you are beyond the most basic 'A Building'. what i drew isn't even everything i know - i got lazy drawing the south end of town, and i can easily navigate to any of the major cities within a few hours. you feel so much more Aware of the world around you when you're thinking 'gotta pass the elm tree inn and then it's about four miles' instead of just occasionally glancing at a little screen and not having to use your brain at all.

that's another ingredient: distance estimation. if you know something is 10 miles away, and you're going 60mph, that's about 10 minutes, or two and a half-ish songs. it's something that you have to consciously make yourself notice, but with time it becomes second-nature. it's also an easy way to impress your friends.

you really do have to learn to trust yourself. your brain wants to be used like this, i promise. if you're thinking 'no it doesn't, i don't even know left from right' stop it! i still dont reliably know left from right! that can be annoying if you're trying to give directions (my friends can attest), but when you're just going somewhere, with some practice you just know 'turn towards [your destination]'.

and it is a skill. it's one that's easy to build on your home turf, and then when you go somewhere new, your brain is already primed to think about locations in terms of their relationships to each other. you can even backwards-extrapolate directions! i visited a place i lived as a wee child and was able to navigate without gps because i had one (1) landmark that i could relatively place locations by. and that was in an actual city. i remembered one (1) street name. ALSO an easy way to impress your friends.

anyways whoops i spent 90 minutes answering this instead of doing my job. tl;dr, put down your gps, it'll be okay, i promise. we got by just fine for like a hundred years without everyone having one.

#navigation #long post #does this count as doxing myself

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saviorfoxowlis · 2 years

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N:Era: Call of the Wild Part 3: Red Fox, White Rose

Cyras stood still as the bigger hyena leaned her nose forward and sniffed her breath and muzzle.

"Lilu's not allowed to bring visitors," the pink hyena said after examining her. "State your name."

"Cyras. Cyras Sumhyr."

"Cure Us, Summer?"

"Yes," Cyras said, staring up.

"Well Cure Us," she said, "you should know who I am."

"You must be Lilu's mom, right?" Cyras asked.

The hyena's eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly . "My name is Jazmyn."

Cyras tilted her head, and Jazmyn said, "As in the Queen of Sandrun? Am I ringing any bells for you, or are you lost somewhere?" The queen grinned, however this was no inviting grin, just an excuse to bare a scythe of fangs.

Cyras pursed her lips, not knowing what to say.

Jazmyn snorted. "Where are you from exactly?"

Cyras pawed the ground. "Erm... A different place."

"I said exactly."

"Just north of here, I guess. A few territories over."

"Show me your feet."

Cyras raised a front paw.

Jazmyn sniffed at them. "Wild grass and worms. Just what I suspected. You're a Wilder."

Considering how Lilu and Ahmond tried to conceal that information, she understood already she was in trouble.

The showering room opened, as Lilu lurched out, only to encounter the two. Her eyes popped open, while Jazmyn stared at her. All parties froze.

Jazmyn said, "You dragged a Wilder into the palace."

Cyras' ears flattened to her skull. They made her feel like she was some type of outcast, when she wasn't doing anything wrong.

Instead of jumping to Cyras' rescue, Lilu said, "She knows nothing of our world! She needs somebody who's going to care for her, and all of that. I like her, and showing her new foods, and showing her new sights. She's actually really cute. She spent the night here."

Jazmyn glared and Cyras joined her. The fox said, "Excuse me, I'm not a pet."

"Just because she's cute, you can't keep her!" Jazmyn said, "otherwise I'd keep Ahmond and replace you."

Cyras flinched at that response despite Lilu seeming unfazed, since that was the harshest insult she ever heard, a mother not wanting their own young. Taking a few steps back, she tucked her tail.

Lilu said, "Mom, you're scaring her."

"She's going to kick you out," Cyras said as she went down the hallway. Shooting a glance over, she said, "You should leave me. Family is forever."

Lilu walked past her mother. "I'm going to the mall, come on."

Jazmyn shook her head, as Lilu told her, "I won't be home for dinner tonight. Or maybe tomorrow."

"You'll grow up one day, Lilu," the older hyena shouted as Lilu dragged Cyras away. "And when you do, you'll realize how silly this all sounds later, and your daughter will do the same thing. And the next one after that."

Her voice melted to the background as Lilu headed for the door, and Cyras mimicked Lilu's stony silence.

***

Along the way, they picked Ahmond from the Ice Cream Shop (after several promises she would actually come home) and came into a big center of stores. Lilu explained the idea to Cyras as best she could, but failed to prepare Cyras for the spectacle.

Shops within shops, with individuals walking with various foods, or gear, or gadgets. Cyras' nose went haywire as she tried to pick up all the scents within the place, while drool dribbled from her maw. Her nose sniffed the air, absorbing the smell of cheesy foods, and salt, and sugary beverages.

"Maybe we should feed her," Ahmond told Lilu.

However, Cyras ran off towards a fountain full of water.

"Cyras!" Lilu shouted, "no, no."

Cyras took a few drinks. Some rocks were in the fountain, and she dove for them, before popping up with shiny metals. Grinning at her treasures, she showed off some of these coppery pieces, and told them, "Let's get food. I want food now."

Ahmond stuck her tongue out. "Fountain water. No one should drink that stuff."

Lilu rolled her eyes. "How about we see what you like from the food court?"

"Food court?" Cyras' pupils dilated as she heard those words. That's when she saw how some would give small metals like she collected, and they would get to walk away with foods. "You can obtain food just like that?"

"You have to pay," Lilu said. "We'll get you a sample of everything. I'll foot the bill."

Cyras stared blankly.

"I'll pay for everything."

Cyras stared blankly.

"Just eat what I bring you."

Cyras nodded hard enough to almost break her neck, as Lilu went over to the food presenters. Ahmond sat at a stool, and Cyras jumped up beside her.

"You know, there's another stool," Ahmond said as Cyras settled, and pointed to one next to her. "Like, a little space please?"

"Okay." Cyras jumped onto the top of the table, with some giving her odd looks.

"Cyras, off the table."

Cyras got back on the floor.

The coywolf crossed her arms. "Sit in the stool next to me."

"You told me to give you space when I sat there."

"No, not next to me on the same stool, sit on the stool that is next to my stool."

Cyras raised an eyebrow as Ahmond had some weird fascination with where she sat. "You're more concerned with where my butt is than I am. Like, did you lose yours in a tragic accident?"

"Almost. I angered Mosor when I ran away."

"Stop the bum talk, and eat the celery stalks," Lilu said as she walked in with a bag of food in her mouth. She placed the bag before locking eyes with Cyras who was still on the floor. The hyena pointed her head to one seat, and she followed the order.

Ahmond puffed her cheeks.

Cyras wagged her tail, as Lilu revealed the contents of the bag. After an explanation about plastic and not to eat the actual containers, she ate pretzels with cheese, nachos with jalapenos, chicken strips, and fries.

"How much space does she have in her?" Ahmond muttered to Lilu. "She's eaten everything we've given to her."

Lilu shrugged.

Cyras kept eating, regardless. These jalapeno peppers gave a spiciness to the cheese which didn't go unnoticed, mixing in for a fiery, good taste with these corn like chips. Or the chicken strips, whose juices went well with something sweet like the small soda she had to drink.

"Is this how the world ends?" Ahmond asked, "completely consumed by a singular fox?"

As Cyras lapped her drink, Ahmond said, "Be politer. You should drink through the straw." Meanwhile, Lilu giggled.

Cyras stared at Lilu, and felt mildly embarrassed. She must be doing something wrong, she must have been making a spectacle of herself, with this weird, inane rule. Still, she used this plastic tube known as a straw - which didn't resemble dried grass that much - and drank through this instrument.

Ahmond stared at her like a savage beast, and Lilu brought over a cup of brown liquid, so Ahmond stared at Lilu like a savage beast.

The coywolf seemed to have some protest, but Cyras figured she was just acting like herself - a wimp, and she drank.

As Lilu's eyes glazed over, Cyras said through a mouthful of chips, "Lilu, are you thinking about what your mom said to you?"

Lilu exhaled, and shook her head, before saying, "You're as subtle as a brick. Yeah, this stuff blows over."

"That was really mean of her to say those things," Cyras told her. "If Ryvoh told me that, I would have felt horrible, and I understand if you do too."

"She says that stuff all the time. That, that was just nothing."

Ahmond reclined back, staring away from their talk.

Cyras narrowed her eyes. "I may not know much about your rules and customs, but I know wrong. That was wrong. No one should ever say they don't want you as a child, at all."

Lilu snapped, "You really don't get this do you?"

Cyras reeled back, and hissed at her.

"No, don't give me that attitude, missy," Lilu said, "you don't get anything. We say some stuff, and sometimes there's a warped meaning, and you wouldn't understand this at all."

Cyras snorted and asked, "If this is nothing, you would not be this hurt."

Lilu said, "Just, both of you, come with me. We're going to Card Capers." She hopped off the chair, and left for another shop.

***

Apparently Lilu wasn't going to talk about her issues, and was going to act like Cyras was a complete idiot.

Lilu broke an awkward void in conversation by saying, "These malls have everything," as they arrived at a building.

Card Capers - For All Your Card Game Needs...

Cyras saw some flowers outside the store. A white rose bloomed from a planter, and she was delicate to pick the stem.

"Cyras!" Ahmond said, "you're not supposed to steal those."

"They're flowers." Cyras rolled her eyes. "No one owns flowers."

"Got us there," Lilu told her.

Hosting the annual Wysdom National Tournament.

Lilu sneered at the sign, until her eyes wandered on one part, which read about how there were more openings. Lilu gestured the two into the room.

Navy blue walls and carpet gave a calming, club-like feel to the shop. Several tables had people playing cards, while a glass shelf went from corner to corner, various Tower Cards within the containers.

"I'm going to the tournament in a week," Lilu said. "Regardless of how my mom feels. I'm not even going to return home to talk to her."

Cyras agreed with Lilu's decision internally. "She's a lich. And I'm not sure if I meant that kind of itch either."

"She's an itch on the butt," Lilu said.

Cyras said, "Or on that spot on your back you can't reach."

Ahmond said, "Or-"

"We get the idea," Lilu said, shutting Ahmond down. The coywolf pouted.

As Lilu deciphered the wicked enigmas of joining the tournament, Ahmond and Cyras stared at painted cardboard sheets. Cyras found herself more attracted to the Fire based cards, if only because she picked that element once, and stuck to the choice.

"Alright," Lilu said as she came back, brows furrowed, eyes averting the table. "Apparently we have to pass some kind of test."

"I hope not math, I hate math." Ahmond shrunk away from Lilu's eyes which were now slivers.

A jackal came to the table. "Are all three of you participating?"

"Yes," Lilu said, though Cyras wasn't sure.

"Here's how this works. I'm putting these cards down," and she dealt the cards, "and you have to win to beat the puzzle. You get one turn and three tries. Only one at a time."

Cyras saw Lilu struggle, but figure the puzzle with one try left. When Ahmond's turn came, she had no tries left.

Cyras stared at the playing zone.

She had a face down in the instant zone known as Disabler which would disable any card her opponent played next. Lava Wyvern, which could send 2 cards, 1 per player, to the discard pile. 1 Lava Caterpillar, which inflicted 3000 Soul Points of damage if that card went to the discard pile.

Her opponent had 10,000 Soul Points, one face down, and Icy Fish, which had only 2000 shield to beat.

Something was off.

So obviously, Cyras was supposed to activate Wyvern, put Caterpillar to discard along with Icy Fish, inflict 3000, then attack for game. If the opponent's instant was activated, that meant activate Disabler and win.

But if Cyras was correct, a puzzle was meant to be more... harder than that.

"Wait, can I see your discard pile?"

The jackal nodded as Cyras rummaged through, and read seven different abilities until she found the catch. One card in discard was known Barrier Ant, and the ability of Barrier Ant was that if an instant was played, she could play the Ant, thus meaning Cyras would lose.

"Okay, I play Lava Wyvern's ability twice. One on either instant, and one on either of our fighters, so both our Instants go to discard along with our fighters."

A regular Barrier, not the ant variety, was put to the discard pile, along with Icy Fish.

"And attack," Cyras said to her.

"Congratulations," the wild dog announced, "you've won the game. Feel free to join the tournament. However, since you entered this way, as a reserve, you'll start with less points."

Cyras looked to Lilu for translating.

"Basically, in a tournament like this one, you play rounds of Swiss, where you face others for a few games. You get more points by winning and who you beat, and if you get enough points, you're part of the top eight, who will face one another in one versus ones."

The jackal said, "And you become our next national Junior Champion of Towers. And you get tea with Owlis."

"Owlis?"

The jackal nodded, and said, "Yes, I would have figured you'd have read about the prizes. Surprising you'd miss having tea with the empress."

As Cyras was about to ask more inappropriate questions, Ahmond laughed and said, "She's new, from another country, she's my... She's my cousin...'s aunt's daughter visiting."

"Wouldn't your cousin's aunt's daughter be your-"

Lilu shoved a paw in Ahmond's mouth, and said, "Okay, moving to new adventures!"

As the hyena dragged them away, Cyras asked Lilu, "But really, who's Owlis?"

"Owlis is our leader," Ahmond said, "anyway, I'm going back to my house."

Cyras thought, before saying, "Can I stay with you tonight?"

"I really think you oughta go home," Ahmond said, "'cause, your family is going to start missing you."

"Actually, we should have a sleepover," Lilu said, "and besides..." She whispered to Ahmond, "Maybe we'll see the effects of the coffee."

Cyras shrugged, wondering what coffee was.

#fox #narrative #stories #Coywolf #Hyena #NEra

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funkymbtifiction · 2 years

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Here to ask about the potential type of another random person (as based on his description in an article)—specifically, June Huh, who recently won the Fields Medal. Through the article, I was first thinking ISFP, but toward the end I was re-directed to INTP. Some elements also give me pretty strong sp/so 9 impressions.

Article link: https://www.quantamagazine.org/june-huh-high-school-dropout-wins-the-fields-medal-20220705/

-He likes to go on long walks in the wilderness, "get lost," and is good at spotting and identifying animals.

-Does ~3 hrs of focused work per day, then is exhausted, because "doing something that's valuable... takes away a lot of your energy" (introvert, intuitive, 9?)

-"Doesn’t usually have much control over what he decides to focus on in those three hours" which means there's long spans of time where he doesn't do any "real work."

-Forcing himself to do things when he's not in the mood to (even things he usually likes) "never works." Thinks that intention and willpower are thus overrated and that you rarely achieve anything with them.

-Hated school because he found it impossible to focus/absorb information in the classroom; read voraciously instead, explored a local mountain (but still managed to get lost after becoming very familiar with it.) Used to hate math workbooks and would copy the solutions from the back.

-Dropped out of high school to become a poet, but never finished his work because he found writing "too focused on the self"/painful/depressing. Said he could "physically cry after listening to good music." Now prefers the loss of self in mathematics (searching for objective truths in the universe.) Also enjoys the suspense of trying to discover things no one has before. (Enjoying loss of self is what made me lose Fi-dom as a possibility. Now sounds more NTP.)

-"Almost all of my days are exactly the same... I have a very high tolerance for repetition." Learned to cook a simple pasta dish by doing it the same way for six months; never learned to cook anything else. (Si somewhere)

-Doesn't like quiet places, they make him sleepy (9?)

-"He needed a blanket. But when he looked up how to get to the local mall, he found it too logistically difficult... Instead, he walked to a nearby CVS drugstore, bought 10 squares of fabric and a giant stapler, and stapled the squares together to make a blanket... He lived off frozen pizza for months at a time because he didn’t want to deal with getting groceries and cooking. He just wanted to do math." He only really spoke with another person once a week during this time (his advisor.) (Withdrawn type)

-After getting married and having children, learned to do basic logistical tasks better (even though he still dislikes them.) His wife says of their relationship: "I'm a real worker, he's a thinker."

-Usually doesn't have "eureka" moments when he's discovered something new; rather, realizes he didn't know something before, and now he does. Discoveries feel subconscious. (Intuitive of some kind?)

Yup, that's an sp/so 9w1 INTP.

#question #intp #i admire the amount of ingenuity that went into not buying a blanket

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lezliefaithwade · 3 years

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A Breath of Fresh Air

The summer after my first year of theatre school, I was sleeping on the living room floor of my cousin's apartment in Toronto, trying to figure out what to do with my life. My cousin had been an actor before he became a quadriplegic in a car accident, and as I unadvisedly bemoaned my unemployment status, he said something like, "Seriously? You're complaining about your life? Don't make me burst a colostomy bag." He was right, of course. I wasn't in a wheelchair, though I did have a stepmother who had rendered me homeless because of her dislike for me. She was always saying things like, "Your hair can't be as ugly as that hat you're wearing." Or simply refusing to invite me to things like Christmas dinner. I always admired people with families. My boyfriend at the time was one of five kids who were always doing things together. Their house was always full of noise and activities. Even as a shiksa, I felt more at home there than with my stepbrothers and sisters, who never lost an opportunity to point out that I was weird. I wanted to stand up to them, but not wanting to cause my father any grief, I held my tongue and sought refuge elsewhere. It occurred to me that perhaps I was using the theatre as an opportunity to say things through characters that I couldn't find the courage to express myself.

The Toronto Star was still open on the kitchen table, and I rummage through the Want Ads, that dirty part of the newspaper near the back where complete strangers will soon become complete assholes in your life by forcing you to work menial jobs in humiliating uniforms for minimum wage.

"Find anything?" my cousin called from the bedroom, where two attendants helped wash and dress him.

"Social services are advertising for camp councilors to work with emotionally challenged kids."

"Oh yeah," He said. "That might suit you."

I'm not sure I knew what he meant but, I was beginning to think I'd outgrown my welcome. My cousin probably would have encouraged me to join the circus if the option had been available. Knowing my living room days were numbered, I thought it best to make an effort and apply.

I had no experience teaching drama—no experience working with kids and no experience going to or working at a camp. Despite all that, I was hired. It's worth noting that it's probably not a good sign if you get a job with no qualifications whatsoever.

My official position was Drama Councillor, and I prided myself that with only a year and half of theatre training behind me, I was well equipped to help others benefit from the wealth of my experience. I imagined myself, Maria Von Trapp, teaching children how to sing while they looked at me adoringly. Somehow, I conveniently blocked out the rebellious early stages she experienced and skipped straight to the good parts. Also, I might add, forgetting about the Nazis and having to climb over a mountain. Still, visions of me biking around camp with a group of happy campers behind me filled me with a sense of self-satisfaction.

As I packed my knapsack with deet and a secret stash of Twinkies, I thought of how only three weeks earlier I'd been in New York walking through Central Park and savoring Cappuccinos at outdoor cafés on Columbus. Now, here I was, ready for something different. The wilderness, I imagined, would be a welcome change—fresh air and loons instead of smog and sirens. I thought smugly about my classmates sweating behind visors at take-out windows shoveling fries into cardboard cups or wrapping sandwiches in tinfoil. Thumbs up to adventure, I told myself. The fact that I'd never once in my life enjoyed the great outdoors didn't factor into my mind. All of this changed with each accumulated minute of the 391 Kilometer drive north.

It was late afternoon when I arrived at the compound. Overcast, sullen, it was a place so secluded you'd need flares to find it. It had that distinct aura of someplace time forgot. A place left behind and neglected. In the brochure, the sun was shining, flowers filled the meadow, and you could practically hear laughter floating off the page. What I was looking at bore more of a resemblance to a situation in a Stephen King novel where camp councilors discover a pack of hungry teenage zombies have lured them to a seemingly idyllic retreat. Situated right in the heart of black fly country, I spent most of my days swatting insects so big they seem Jurassic.

During our orientation, child care workers warned us that children with mental health needs tend to run away - a lot and to keep strict attendance records and all eyes on them at all times. "These kids are resourceful and clever," they cautioned. I couldn't imagine being so determined you'd risk your life by escaping through the woods that surrounded us, but then again, I'd never been around children who weren't allowed cutlery before either

I shared my cabin with three other women with who I had absolutely nothing in common. Delia, a humorless 27-year-old cooking instructor who answered every question with a monosyllabic grunt, Jennifer, a 26-year old tennis instructor with massive blond ringlets who talked so quickly she sounded like a record on high speed, and an older aboriginal woman named Sunny who made us all dream catchers and offered advice about how to heal ourselves on days when we'd feel spent. "Remember, these kids need us," she said while purifying our cabin with sage. As I glanced around my assigned bunk, taking in the spider webs and loose floorboards, I had that sinking feeling that comes when you know you've made a terrible mistake. Before long, I was eating copious amounts of peanut butter on stale bagels amid a never-ending supply of starch. I'm not sure who thought it was a good idea to feed children with challenges like anxiety, depression, hyperactivity, and eating disorders copious amounts of sugar and carbs. It certainly did nothing to help them or me.

On the first day of class, I sat everyone in a circle. "Welcome to drama class," I said with a smile. "Let's begin by sharing with everyone a little bit about ourselves. Anything at all you'd like us to know?" A hand went up.

"I'm Tracy, and I hate my stupid ass brother. He can go straight to hell."

"Okay," I said, "That's a start. Who's next?"

Another hand. "I'm Jonathan, and this place sucks so much I wish it would burn to the ground!"

"Fair enough. Anyone else?"

"I'm Jo. I'm schizophrenic. So sometimes I'm Rachel and Julia. You'll know the difference because Rachel has a British dialect, and Julia talks slang."

"O-kay." I glanced at the social workers who sat on the edge of the room and looked at me with an expression that basically said, "We can't wait to see what you do next."

"Let's write a play," I suggested. "Write anything you want. Once you're happy with the work, I'll shape it into a cohesive piece that we'll rehearse and then present at the end of the season talent showcase."

The kids liked this idea. The showcase was a big deal. It was an opportunity for them to blow off some steam and express themselves to friends and family in a creative way. My only stipulation was not to use profanity. As the weeks passed, I was impressed with how well they all threw themselves into this project—all except Eric, the oldest boy in my 12 to 15-year-olds. Eric often wandered around the rehearsal space, unfocused and sullen.

"Any ideas for your piece?" I ask, checking in to see if I could help.

"I'm thinking," he'd say and then pace.

With three weeks left in the summer, I took my well-deserved week off to decompress. My boyfriend came up from Toronto and drove me to his parent's house at Post and Bayview, where caterers were preparing the tennis courts for an outdoor party. I walked into his mother's living room, and she gasped. "What happened to you?"

I didn't blame her. I hadn't spent much time looking at a mirror the past four weeks, but one glance at the large one in their bathroom told the full story. My hair was ratty; I had scabs on my knees, bruises on my arms and legs, and I was sunburnt. I was wearing a vintage skirt and blouse that was probably more Value Village than vintage and a pair of worn, scuffed purple moccasins; in essence, I was wearing slippers on my feet.

"Please take her to the mall and at least buy her a pair of shoes," his mother said, handing me her credit card and then rushing off to make sure the stuffed alligator would float in the pool. That week I ate my way through rugelach, hamantaschen, brisket, and bagels while his family watched me with awe and disgust.

Back at camp, the smell of burning insect repellent greeted me along with the news that the sailing and tennis instructors were sacked for disorderly conduct. Never mind, I had renewed energy and a sense of purpose. There were costumes and props to make. Sound and lighting effects to create. And we needed to rehearse. It was only a tiny stage somewhere on a remote camp in Northern Ontario, but the excitement was palpable. I was excited. This would be the best talent show ever, and my kids were going to blow the socks off everyone there!!!

"Eric," I said, "How's your piece coming along?"

"I finished it," he mentioned casually

"That's great. Can I see it?"

"I want to surprise you. You're going to love it, though. I promise."

I patted myself on the back. Eric had a breakthrough. All my encouragement and patience had paid off. Perhaps I'd helped him have a developmental breakthrough.

"Can you tell me what it's about?" I asked.

"The Beatles."

"Great. Okay," and left it at that.

Talent Night arrived along with parents and family friends. The lights dimmed, the kids performed, and the audience enthusiastically applauded as each "Mighty Mite" or "Spirit of Paradise" breezed across the stage, acting out skits about fairies and monsters and assorted escapades. Finally, it was Eric's turn. Out he came, looking serious and theatrical. He cleared his throat and addressed the audience.

"This is called, The Beatles Last Recording Session. By, Me."

Three of his closest camp friends filed out and took a space on the stage. The audience was silent.

There was a dramatic pause, then the piece began.

"Fuck you, Ringo,"

"Fuck you, Paul."

"Fuck you, George."

"Well fuck you, John."

Then they bowed and left the stage.

Personally, I thought it was kind of brilliant. Needless to say, I wasn't showered with accolades about my teaching methods or the effect I had on kids. I left there having no catharsis about mental health except that giving people the opportunity to express themselves without censor is probably a lot healthier than insisting they stay quiet. I admired the honesty displayed in the kid's work. If only, I thought to myself, I could be half as brave. Wasn't that what I was spending time and money learning how to do?

A week after being home, I found myself packing, once more, for school in New York. Our term letters had arrived with instructions on where to buy character shoes, leotards, copies of The Children's Hour, and Death of a Salesman. The camp already felt like it was 391 kilometers away - soon to be 659. My father drove me to the train station with my stepmother beside him; she was there, no doubt, to ensure I boarded.

"You going to be okay?" my father asked, giving me a hug and slipping a $50 bill into my pocket.

"She'll be fine." Elsie chimed in. "You don't have to worry about her. Let's go."

But I wanted my father to worry about me. Not all the time and to the exclusion of all else, but certainly the appropriate fatherly amount.

As I settled myself on the train, I watched my stepmother pull from father from the platform to the car and thought of Eric's brilliant play. Under my breath, I whispered the immortal words of the Beatles, "Fuck you."

#stepmother #mental health #children #young people #summer camp

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