Did I drop the hint that I turned 18 last Monday? Darn it, I don't think I did.
Oh well. Uh - I am. 18.
But recently I went camping as well. I went to Algonquin Park for two days to get fifteen million bug bites all over my legs and feet and to get wet, as the weather was always unstable.
It wasn't the worst trip. It was fun, going there, hudding under a tarp for the first night by a fire, having the actual fun the second day by going through the Barron Canyon and jumping off a rock, fishing (I didn't, I don't like to fish) then coming back to change campsites because the one we wanted was now free.
I slept okay. I dreamt repeatedly about one darn person. I've been doing this over and over. It's not my real intention. Who can choose what to dream about? But it's not like I'm not enjoying this. In real life I won't see them again so it's nice to see them when I'm asleep but then it's harder to forget the sadness and move on. The third day I woke to rain and eventually we came out and made breakfast.
I timed everything. As soon as we left - 12:51 p.m. - I estimated we'd be at the parking lot at 2:30. And I was right. After the portage it rained as hard as it could and we left soaking wet.
Overall it was an okay trip. Not the best but alright. And when I got home I got my report card and a newsletter, which had the photo of me at Boston Pizza with the teachers and the words.
That's the last that everyone will see of me at that school. Celebrating my 18th with the teachers as well as my graduation.
That should be a good sent off, shouldn't it?
I'm convinced. Yeah.