2 days until Catholic Camp...Awesome.

I'm all about the countdowns these days. I have to turn in my Dexter outline for a writers peer group through the NUEA this Friday. And Friday night my fiancée and I head off to Catholic Camp (more on that in a bit). Which means, in part, that I won't be able to get any more work done this weekend. Which means, by the bye, this deadline on Friday for my Dexter spec is much more pressing.


So you'd think I'd be working away. And I am. And you'd think I'd be spending every free moment whittling away at the motha'. And I am. And you'd probably think I'd be getting a lot done. But that's where you'd be wrong. And, frankly, shame on you.

I'm working two-steps-forward-one-step-back down to a pristine shine. I keep making strides on, say, my A story, but then I realize that my B story is looking like something my A story gobbled up and then crapped out. Or I'll see how my A and C story are heading towards this wonderful thematic threading that makes me realize I picked the perfect midpoint for the script, but then I'll realize that my B story has ADD, anorexia, and some kind of rash.

Seeing a thread here? My B story is driving me up a goddamn wall. Good thing this thing is due in less than 48 hours.


So, to distract myself briefly and hopefully let the subconscious Adam take care of it all, I'm going to get to that promised post about Catholic Camp.


Me: "Hi...my name's Adam... and I'm engaged to a Catholic."

You: "Hello Adam."

See? All my research into Narcotics Anonymous is coming in handy.

Getting married to a Catholic involves a little hoop-jumping. And by little, I mean a lot. I don't want to make it sound like I'm a devil worshiper. I was raised Baptist. And I still consider myself religious in nature, though I have issues with organized religion. But, my beautiful fiancée wants her sacrament, and I get it. So hoops here we come.

And we've jumped through just about every one (proving I was baptized, taking a test (yes, a test), having our parents swear to a priest and/or a notary public that we are of sound mind and intend to be faithful and aren't pulling a Ross) except for Catholic Camp.

They actually call it an Engaged Encounter. But it's a full weekend of "marriage preparation." It starts Friday night at seven, and continues until Sunday evening at 4:30pm.

But the part that really gets me are the sleeping arrangements. I've been briefed by people I know who have done this already, and, frankly, it kind of sounds like a Catholic Internment Camp. You sleep on the premises of the retreat or whatever they call it. Men and women are separated. OK. No big deal. You sleep in one big, summer camp-esque dorm room. Uh, OK. And instead of separate rooms, you sleep on what sounds like nice cots that are divided by cement brick dividers that don't go all the way up to the wall, and instead of doors they have curtains that you can draw across your "space." Uh...shit.

What is that? It sounds like something from Full Metal Jacket. How is that kind of a situation supposed to get me excited about a 16 hour day of lectures and group activities?

Mike, a co-worker of my fiancée's, told me to bring ear plugs. Don't worry, he was only talking about the snoring that kept him up all weekend, but still. This is the same guy who said I should try and make the most of the weekend. Really. If you're going to give advice to someone, don't precede it with a cute little horror story.

And I am going to try and make the most out of it. I'll keep my ears open and see if there's anything Mychela and I haven't thought to discuss, and I'll keep a smile on and work with Mychela to jump through this last hoop as best I can, but I am not looking forward to sleeping with 20 other guys in what can best be described as a hold-over from the Meatballs era.

Supposedly there's a lot of writing done on this weekend. If it goes all Willy Wanka on me, maybe I'll just spend that time working on my Dexter outline. Don't I sound romantic, ladies? Really, I'm not a bastard. But, come on, read the preceding paragraph.

As a final thought, from the LA Engaged Encounter website:

"In addition to pre-marital counseling, another wonderful way to eliminate the unpleasant surprises of early married life is a program called Engaged Encounter ... I strongly recommend Engaged Encounter to every couple planning a wedding."
- Dr. James Dobson, author of "Love for a Lifetime",
founder of Focus on the Family


ps. Am I just a moron, or did anyone else not know that fiancée is spelled differently for the man and the woman? I had no idea it was fiancé for the man, and fiancée for the woman. At least I'd been using the correct form when referring to Mychela.


Jane said...

Engaged Encounter makes it sound like some kind of pre-marital swingers club. And the idea of someone trying to actually tell you, in 16 hours of lectures, what to expect from marriage? Hmph. Good luck with that!


adam _______________________ said...

If by swingers you mean cranky sleep-deprived Catholics, then you'd be right. Actually, it wasn't as bad as it sounds, or as bad as I thought it would be. If it wasn't for the absolutely heinous snoring in the Men's dorms that kept me up, it wouldn't have been that bad at all.

But thanks for the well-wishes.

ps. The worst part was that everyone had to bring snacks for the group. There were 60 couples at this thing. 60! And they all brought junk food. That's a lot of junk food. But we're talking really good junk food. The staples. We ate a lot of crap and felt like it when we left.