Return of the scribbler
Oct. 10th, 2004 09:45 amSo I'm back from Viable Paradise, and am only just now starting to recover. Wow.
I remember when I was in sixth grade (bear with me, this tangent is relevant) I went to what was essentially geek camp -- live in a dorm for two weeks and take classes on biology or creative writing or cryptography. As I was something of an isolated geek (always excepting
sigerson's presence), discovering that there were other weird smart people my age was amazing. And when I came back each year from STAR or PULSAR or whatever, there would be this strange despondent feeling. A lot of it had to do with oncoming adolescence, but it was mostly about having found this community and now being deprived of it.
That's not quite how this feels. But it's a close enough match to explain this weird sadness and contentment blur I'm feeling now. I'm not by any scale despondent -- it's not like when I came home to a world in which no one (and
sigerson still doesn't count) who understood what I was going through. I've got a lot of really cool friends who do, and who will appreciate the obscene bear jokes and other things I learned just as much as I did.
But it's like I found even more people who speak the same language, and now I can only be in touch with them via email. And it's really about a shared language, now that I think of it -- I'd say something meant as just something obscure and weird (e.g. "I carry the hose") and someone would know what I was talking about.
And now I'm torn. I want to blither on about VP over and over again, introduce the great people here to the great people there and tell stories till the sun sets. But I know that a lot of what I'm trying to convey will be lost, and it can be very tiresome to hear someone going on about Experience Foo when no one else has had Experience Foo. (This may be the result of hearing Dad go on about Central Asia at the slightest provocation...sibs, you know what I'm talking about.)
thomascantor has taken the brunt of this, and he's been preternaturally patient with both my pointless stories and my mood swings. Now I need to do something nice for him.
I remember when I was in sixth grade (bear with me, this tangent is relevant) I went to what was essentially geek camp -- live in a dorm for two weeks and take classes on biology or creative writing or cryptography. As I was something of an isolated geek (always excepting
That's not quite how this feels. But it's a close enough match to explain this weird sadness and contentment blur I'm feeling now. I'm not by any scale despondent -- it's not like when I came home to a world in which no one (and
But it's like I found even more people who speak the same language, and now I can only be in touch with them via email. And it's really about a shared language, now that I think of it -- I'd say something meant as just something obscure and weird (e.g. "I carry the hose") and someone would know what I was talking about.
And now I'm torn. I want to blither on about VP over and over again, introduce the great people here to the great people there and tell stories till the sun sets. But I know that a lot of what I'm trying to convey will be lost, and it can be very tiresome to hear someone going on about Experience Foo when no one else has had Experience Foo. (This may be the result of hearing Dad go on about Central Asia at the slightest provocation...sibs, you know what I'm talking about.)
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Date: 2004-10-10 09:15 am (UTC)And I'd love to hear your dad ramble on for eons about Central Asia. ;)
I'm glad you had fun and ha i was a wonderful experience for you. The Foo is strong in this one.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-10 04:57 pm (UTC)Welcome home, anyway. I'm glad it was a good experience.
no subject
Date: 2004-10-10 05:57 pm (UTC)I am glad you had a great time. Save some stories and bear jokes for the next time I see you, okay?