Pleasure in pain

Every year at about this time I realize how much pleasure I get out of this insane thing that causes me so much pain. I work fingers to bone, strain every muscle, lose touch with half of my friends(the half that don't share my insanity), get sunburned, stay up late, get up early (possibly the biggest surprise for anyone who knows me)... all of this to get in those precious hours, those 48 mandatory hours of service in exchange for those four magical days and nights in August.

And THEN! The torture is not over, oh no! THEN I see the line-up for the workshops. And I see who conflicts with what - all the impossible dilemnas and conflicts that the Guy Who Plans It All creates in his cunningly sadistic mind. THEN the torture becomes mental as I highlight and decide and scratch out and change my mind until often I just give up and sit on whatever hill is closest.

And it is there that I am invariably thrilled with that new thing I discover. That one I'd never heard before, that I would never have circled in my book.

The one I will circle next year...and maybe scratch out. You never know. It gets complicated.