Campgrounds are so weird. No one would do all this stuff out in the open in town, would they? And yet here we can all see each other eating and cooking and arguing. I don't really like it. There's a shocker. I wonder what places have real wilderness camping, and if I'm really prepared to do that. I could be. I'm smart and cautious. I'm brave and I like to be alone.  (8/15/13)

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Got caught up in reading some old journals. It makes me sad, all the little things I don't remember. But then again, I'm grateful for the passage of time.

I haven't taken any photos at all since I got home. This time is lost; I'm not sure if I'm okay with that or not. Sometimes it's an intentional lacuna, the self-destructive urge to let time dissolve without preservation. It may be that now, but it's also that my camera and all my lenses are screwed up and fixing them is pretty far down the to-do list. But why? Is laundry more important than pictures? Is getting a job?