flipping through the pages of the past

I've just been taking a walk down memory lane, reading my diaries.
What striked me most weree the entrees on all the camps that i have attended in my life.
Summer school, tacklecamp, Noxdern, OBS, SparkC, lifeskills camp (1 and2)... so many of them.
I find that in camps, you really learn alot about yourself, and about others. Because in camps, it's easier to be yourself, because you figure: Heck, what have i got to lose? And you do the most outrageous things that you would never even THINK of doing in your carefully constructed world back home.
I remember the most successful play that i'd ever acted in, not for the beauty of the script, but for the laid-back, natural and impromptu of it all. The play from summer school, based on the idiom "All that glitters is not Gold". To this day, i cannot believe that i actually dared to act as i did, casting myself on the floor and blubbering, and dancing the australian folk dance with that hideous GRIN that we were wearing. Even writing the script was enjoyable, something, i assure you, that i normally hate. The lines, the scenes all seemed to develop on it's own.
First there were three sirens and Odysseus, and then Odysseus turns into a wicked old man (because Tom is better at being wicked than anything else), who turned into a farmer, and then the three sirens became two (one went off to be the farmer's wife) and was joined by a guy siren (timothy, who could NOT be odysseus because he grins so affably at the world) who turned into prostitutes and a Mafia boss, respectively.
And then, from the farmer and his servile wife having a pitiful parting while he goes off to the city to find work it turns into the farmer abandoning his tired, frantic and slightly unstrung wife to go and play in the city. And of COURSE it was natural for the farmer to not know that prostitutes needed to be payed, and since we had a mafia boss, he could very conveniently be kicked around by all three of them, and sent running home to his wife (who all this while is having fits of hysterical weeping) who welcomes him back with open arms and dances with him. Oh, and we even got dark glasses for Timothy, so his grin could look vaguely sinister, since you couldn't see his eyes beaming at you. And Tom got to flick imaginery bits of soup and vegetable at me, while i tried valiantly to stop staring in lurid fascination at his maniacal glee, and look sad, horrified and angry. Now THAT is what i call acting. FUN!!!