Maybe I Am More Of A Room Service Gal




I might not like camping.

I wrote my bitchiness and whininess off at Burning Man as the result of having all my posessions reduced to cinders in our lovely flaming trailer, but after going camping at Twigsville, even for one night over New Year's, I'm beginning to think it's simply that unless I'm blotto drunk, I don't actually like roughing it.

It's so easy to ignore freezing temperatures, no showers, gross bathrooms that you have to share, people in your cabin fucking right next to you or snoring really loud, dead flies in your coffee, not being sure if your car is gonna make it, and stuffing you and your not-tiny boyfriend into a bed about two and a half feet wide, when you're loaded.

When I'm not, it's all a massive pain in the ass and I end up being a high-maintenance whiny buzzkilling bitch. And I don't like being that way any more than I like having to put of six layers of clothes to go to the effing bathroom at three a.m.

There were a few times when I was comfortable and happy, and once at night after finally trekking to the bathroom and back in the freezing* cold and snuggling into my 1.2 feet of space, I heard the river outside, and for a minute I was able to forget the fact that I'd have to ford it with my low-slung car in the morning, and it was a nice sound, and I was happy and content. But between feeling uncomfortable because everyone was high or drunk or both and I wasn't, and I wanted to be, but couldn't--and with the various challenges to comfiness that the whole "camping" experience presented, well, I was glad to leave when I did.

I want so much to be a certain kind of rough-and-ready, anything-goes kind of person, and for many years I was able to create myself in that image, but the bottom line may be that without the prop of some sort of drug or drink or other thing that makes everything else kinda fade away, I just might not be that person. And it's sad, because I wanted to be that person: cool, calm, collected, leap-in-the-car-thru-the-window-and-hit-the-road, footloose and fancy-free, wild and fascinating.

But maybe I'm just a boring person deep down, who's been trying all her life to amass a resume of interesting and fascinating exploits, just so I can point to it and say I'm better than everyone else.

I dunno.

Dammit, now I'm depressed.

I hope this year goes well.

* It was actually freezing. There was ice on everything.