Ooh, the joy of swinging.

Just a notch in your bedpost, but you're just a line in this song...





Helloooo.
Lucy on zee blog, bayubs.
After reading Shane's last blog post, I decided that I needed to make my blog more mature vocabulary wise considering last post was filled with random blabber that bubbled out of my brain, through my fingers and out onto Muchos Poptart. I'll make this as meaningful as I possibly can without making a presidential speech that will bore you all to pieces. I'll try and strive for the Alice in Wonderland thing that happened ages ago that readers seemed to like. I won't get those results though, that post was after coffee and incense. Good idea to warn you that this is another quite short post because my life isn't very eventful.

Today, I had another pile of realizations. People who read this blog daily will know that a lot of the time my posts include brief realizations throughout my monotonous teenage life. This is one of those kinda posts. I went off to see my grandparents as a surprise because my father's second cousin died. In rural Ireland, second cousins are close family members, as are third cousins twice removed by marriage. I'll break it down: If you're family, you're family. Anyway, back to the visit. It's a two hour journey, one of those incredibly cliché family bonding moments where you sing along to the songs on the radio but then you all end up fighting and being car sick and you can't wait until you finally reach your destination and breathe a sigh of relief that it's over and that you now have fresh air. Seeing my grandparents made a warm feeling spread up my veins, especially my Grandad because he had like 3 strokes and funerals had been arranged and all but I was all upset because I wouldn't have been able to visit him because I was still recovering from the operation. He lived. My parents don't really give people chances; I'm afraid to faint in case I wake up six feet under. As a family group, we headed to a pub, something people off in the country do regularly, I'm guessing. I don't survive well in pubs. Something about the strong, stinging scent of vast amounts of alcohol, the faint scent of tobacco and the greasy, stuffy atmosphere repels me from places like that unless I had extremely good reason. My good reason was that if I didn't go in there, my father would refuse to talk to me for a week or two. He's incredbily mature that way. After a few minutes and two Cidonas, I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. I was sitting in a corner seat and the thatched roof seemed to drop downward, and the walls seemed to want to brush against eachother. I said I didn't feel so good and dragged my sister out for a walk. My father's hometown is cute, quaint and anything but modern. It's a riverside village with a walk guiding straight beside the waters along to a playground and docks. We strolled along silently. It was a beautiful day, the sun hit the water so that it reflected on to the surrounding boats and rocks and the wind whistled past our ears. We really had no reason to destroy the captivating nature with silly comments or bad phone-speaker-chart-toppers. Stopping at the playground, I noticed something that isn't usual in towns. The playground had no teenagers in it. Where I live, the playground is usually over-run by pubescent boys and girls sitting on swings or under slides or on the benches. Where we were, four and five year olds frolicked on relatively graffiti-free playwear with their parents staring contently from nearby. Me and Kellie dashed for the play equipment. Me being fourteen and her being eleven, we both agree we're too old for playground adventures; But, boy, does it make me nostalgic. It's magical. All the bright colours and the climbing and spinning. Call me easily amused, but I haven't had as much pure, good clean fun in years. Then there were the swings. Totally different feeling entirely. I do my best thinking on swings. And on the toilet, but that's for a different blog post. It's the feeling of defeating gravity if only momentarily, and that shift in the seat when you get to the highest point and how your stomach slightly sways. The flying feeling. I sat and swinged for 20 minutes. In that period of time, my mind emptied itself entirely. I managed to remind myself that everything's gonna be okay. Everything is always going to be okay; It's life. No matter how much happens, whoever you are, it'll all be for the best.

The rest of the day was basically just a mirror image of the start. Except as soon as I walked in the door, it seemed my mutti and vati were bickering again. Will they ever shut their faces for a day or two and let me soak in the serene silence of peace?


Lucy. XOXO