MOOP!

Every March for the past three years, I have been asked by a multitude of people --"So are you going to Pinewoods?" And every July, right after the scottish session, I read a half dozen or more blog posts by the people who went, all of whom wax poetic about the camping, the outdoors, the music, the people, and the DANCING.

My answer to the people who've asked has always been "no, I can't." Too broke, too little time, no way to get from where I summer to where Pinewoods occurs, whatever excuse comes to mind. There are real reasons too why I shy away, but they're my own, and don't need to be shared.

This one, however, has just occurred to me. With all the bits and pieces I've gotten, I've formed a quite lovely idea of what the camp is like in my mind. And there's a certain amount to which that alone scares me --I don't at all anticipate that it could truly live up to the idea I've built, not knowing myself and how I interact with the world. I feel rather like it might be arriving in Oz just to find the emerald city to be made of cardboard and paint.

Oh fah, I rather can't post this. Might as well just make one more private post.

~Sor
MOOP!