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Edmund Rice Camps for Kids WA

You know you're a part of something amazing when you smile when you see someone else involved, when even thinking about it can make you happy, when your heart leaps when you look at the pictures.

January 2009 I did my first Edmund Rice Camp and it was amazing. July 2009 was beyond amazing and every camp since then has just somehow been better than the last. Or not better, just different. Amazing, mintox, unbelievable. And every one different.

January Camp 2009   :::   July Camp 2009   :::   August MiniCamp 2009   :::   October Camp 2009   :::   November MiniCamp 2009   :::   January Camp 2010   :::   July Camp 2010


Middle kids, younger kids, kids with siblings with disabilities, older kids, multicultural camp, older kids, middle kids

I've met some of the most fantastic people ever through camps - both kids and leaders. I've laughed with these people and cried with these people and I've had some of the best moments of my life on camps. Looking at the pictures I was sent from some of the camps and I am so glad that I'm a part of Eddie Rice.

And I am so insanely excited about going on Winter Camp 2010 on Monday. It will be brilliant!

Here we belong, fighting for survival.

I feel dead.
I'm sad.
And I don't know why.
Well, I do know why, but it doesn't really make sense.
I just miss people.
This is the worst post-camp depression and camp withdrawls ever.
Especially since I got back from camp about 2 and a half weeks ago.
Uni sucks.
I'm getting through tonight with Beatles, Queen and Billy Joel.
Freddie's singing happy songs.
Tonight, I'm gonna have myself a real good time.
I feel alive.

I don't
I want to, but I don't.
Maybe tomorrow will be better?


For some reason, I have no immune system.
I got a cold. On Tuesday and felt like hell by Wednesday. Actually, felt like hell by Tuesday, but I felt pretty bad on Wednesday too. But hey, it wasn't too bad, responded pretty well the awesome cold and flu tablets I got from the chemist.
So I get a bit better.
Next Tuesday. I get into uni. I go home early because I've got a fever. I have regotten my cold. But the fever broke by the evening, I got over the chills, I could function well enough to pass my test on Wednesday. And once again, reponded well to the medication and I got a bit better.
Then the next Tuesday. I wake up. I feel horrible. I have managed to once again contract the same cold from myself. Again. How is this possible? Three times?
And once again, I've pretty much gotten over the cold.
But I have been revisited by an old friend. We shall call this old friend 'smoker's cough'. Because that's what it sounds like. It's my horrible sounding horrible horrible cough. It actually sounds pretty impressive, but it's horrible. It's like I'm trying to cough up a lung. I feel like that's what I'm trying to do.
Got it last year.
Got it the year before.
Got it this year.
I hate it.
It is horrible
And now my throat hurts from my valient attempts to hack up a lung.
Why can I not have an immune system?
avian flu
equine flu
swine flu
seriously, none sound good.
but i could live with bird flu or horse flu.
but pig flu? are you serious?
and to make everything better, i did just get sick.
but it's a cold.
to be precise, it's the exact same cold i got about a week and a half a go.
sore throat, stuffy nose, slight fever, look like shit, feel exhausted, want to throw up continuously while also feeling hot and cold, both at the same time.
whyyy must i get the same cold twice?
life is not fair.
actually, i can live with a cold.
it's actually not a bad one. it responds pretty well to the cold and flu tablets.
my biggest pain in the arse moment about it all is the fact that i have a maths test tomorrow.
oh yea.
linear algebra
the part of the hardest first year maths unit that was meant to be easy
and was easy
until we moved in n-space.
come on?
you cannot be serious.
I will tell you what n-space is.
it's like 2D or 3D (respectively 2-space or 3-space) but with n dimensions
it's something bizarre
and fictional
with an infinite number of dimensions
what does it look like?
i don't know
no one knows
our minds literally cannot comprehend n-space in a geometrical sense
we cannot possibly begin to visualise it
we can only work in mathmatics in it
which is beautiful
but terrifying
both at the same time

for some reason my ability to write paragraphs has died.
i think it died with my brain when i took all of the pills which i took to allow myself to breathe

but it doesn't matter
no one reads this anyway.
i never update
i should work on that.

Of Christmas revelations

Today I made chocolate mousse. I think it's starting to become something of a Christmas tradition really. We gather with my mum's sister and brothers on Christmas evening for a meal – first at my aunt's house, now at ours, and have something to eat. It's not the traditional whole cooked meal, instead some meat, salads, dips, a range of stuff. And then desert. I'm always the one called upon to make something for desert and for some reason it's always chocolate mousse. Perhaps because I can't cook to save my life, but it's easy to make out of a packet (add some milk and stick it in the electric mixer is essentially all it takes), perhaps because we can serve it individually. I don't know, but it's what is always made.

For some reason, this year we got a different brand. I don't know how well it turned out. I think it's thicker than usual, perhaps richer too. I don't really care, I don't even like chocolate mousse (and yet, every year, without fail, I still make it).
After I'd made up both lots, put them into cups (incredibly messily too), added the chocolate sprinkles, put them in the fridge and washed up the dishes, I went into the bathroom to wash myself up. I had flecks of chocolate mousse right up my forearms and all over my shirt too. I always have been (and I strongly suspect I always will be) incredibly terrified of the electric mixer.

But as I was standing in the bathroom, washing up to my elbows, I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror and wondered how I ended up like this. My hair is everywhere, washed every few days, brushed only when I feel like wearing it out – otherwise just pulled back as neatly as I can be bothered. I've put on a lot of weight and don't seem to be getting around to losing it. I spend my life in denim shorts which aren't short at all and come to my knees and a range of different t-shirts or polo shirts. And I've taken an even stronger dislike to shoes than ever and so have been walking around in thongs which readily get discarded. The soles of my feet are brown and calloused and the tops bear an unfortunate thong tan. Around my right ankle there is a rather tattered friendship bracelet in bright colours, as a stark reminder of a friendship which I've let wither away. I'm redeveloping my racing bathers tan, drinking far more water than I ever should and entering into a rather self-destructive cycle that is highly reminiscent of where I was in year 10. And at the same time I'm doing my best to keep everything the same as it was before we graduated by pretty much shutting everyone out.
And I wondered why I did this to myself.

Why I let myself get like this? Why I didn't accept what I had and leant to live with that. I could learn to love, I could be very happy. But instead I stay with unrealistic dreams of a overly imaginative seventeen year old.

I hate myself sometimes. I hate myself often.

Of wasting study time

Sometimes we get an opportunity to do something which distracts us from our work. Like when you get an opportunity to go babysitting instead of cleaning your room. Or going to reconciliation instead of applicable. Or writing a 50 word story with the words 'block' and 'wearily' instead of researching your thesis. In life, we tend to take these opportunities, and this is what we call procrastination.

And here is some of my endeavours at procrastinating so far.

4:39 in the morning, the calculus student looks wearily at her notes. She’s starting to think that she really should begin studying before the morning of the exam. Her calculator flashes and dies, a block of blue figures appearing on her screen. Now she needs to remember what 4x4 is.

Taking the dog for a walk around the block seemed like a good idea before we went. Unfortunately the encounters with hoons blaring rap and armies of children playing bad football on the road made it somewhat less enjoyable. Returning home wearily, I wondered briefly what happened to the dog.

Monday morning- a new week and a test. Running to try and make it on time; the faster you try to go, the slower everyone else moves. Year 9s block corridors, eager to continue conversations, teachers wearily hurry them along. Then you arrive and find your calculator’s still in F2.

Garry never really wanted much out of life. Each morning he’d wake up, go for a slow jog around the block and then sit on his porch criticizing the way young people look these days. He would drag himself wearily inside around dusk, sleep and begin again. Garry felt fulfilled.

I'm actually slightly confused about most of them. But there you go. No doubt more will be added as I continue to avoid that dreaded thesis.

August 11, 2008: Today's Thought


Oh What a Beautiful Morning...


- has a headache
- is being kept up by her neighbours attempting to sing ‘uptown girl’. songs being massacred is one this. billy joel songs being massacred is an entirely different thing. pity, i kind of liked those neighbours before tonight
- is excited because jenae might be emailing her sometime soon
- is corrupting others and apparently trying to stalk people
- is a bad person who had bad dreams about doing bad things to lovely people
- goes back to school in two days and is very excited
- feels that capitals aren't necessary
- is going to draw on paths and play with modelling clay in her red jumper
- is very tired and feeling slightly unwell
- lost her ring today, had a huge panic attack and found it again
- went to mass this morning and wasn’t made serve or acolyte, but was told off for not knowing the colours of the vatican city
- needs to go to bed sometime soon and still hasn’t done her french homework
- is getting an email soon
- cannot stop thinking about someone
- needs to go to bed and have lovely dreams
- misses katie and hopes that she is okay

Seven of Eight

Today I got up horrendously early after sleeping for six hours; horrendously early equals whatever six hours after eight is because I crashed very early last night; did some physics notes; got dressed; breakfasted; packed and got ready to go to school; sat out the front with kristyn; saw someone wearing nice pants; they were nicely tight and you really don’t want to know anything more than that; discovered that Mr Willmott now officially has no hair; got my laptop from my locker and did more physics notes; migrated back to my homeroom to return my laptop to the security of the locker; walked past unnamed imported pe teacher who knows who I am who said hello to me; responded with a rather startled hello to the still unnamed imported pe teacher who I don’t know who she is; went to the library to study for a little; attempted to study; went for a walk with Krista to go post my letter to Hanusia; returned listening to bohemian rhapsody on my phone and doing interpretive dancing to it; scared a lot of people on the way back; hastened up the silver stairs; stood and discussed why Mary only had one hand and why she was standing on snakes; returned to the library to study a little more; continued studying while all others went and recessed; gave up on study and had a bit of a freak out; sat up the top of the silver stairs with an apple feeling slightly bewildered; spoke briefly to Mr O’Meara as he passed (‘that’s not a happy face’); returned to the library, walked past some classes; went back to panic a little more; spoke with Mr Kinsella about physics and how he failed year 11 physics; panicked a little more; joined Jenae, Jen and Someone who were putting up posters around the school for Reconciliation Week; stuck posters essentially everywhere; music departmented; postered the top floor; postered Mr Hubbard’s classroom; postered the second floor; postered the bottom floor; really scared a small child; discovered that it totally actually is Sian; second guessed myself on whether or not it is Sian; resolved to actually talk to her next time I see her; discovered that the posters had spelling errors; arrived at the village for my exam; moved myself from sitting between Grace and Kristyn to sitting next to a wall; felt very sleepy; failed physics exam; left and retrieved laptop from locker; lay on the figure eight and lamented my lack of all intellect; watched Marissa make balloon things; got picked up in my mum’s new car; went to the shops and got subway; came home and died slightly; messed around for a bit; and now I’m going to bed.

Tomorrow I’m spending all day in the maths office. The maths teachers don’t know this yet. I don’t like calculus.

...i am immortal, i have inside me blood of kings, i have no rival, no man can be my equal, take me to the future of new earth...