Asking Questions

Family life

Its mad how uncontrollably life can take sharp, violent, and unexpected turns. Wonderfully and gloriously mad, but mad all the same. In the past week, my life (as per usual) has decided to spin completely out of control.

I've just realized how silly that statement was.

On Monday, Noah (who is two) came to the dinner table to eat lunch. Seth (six) wanted Noah to sit next to him, so he said to Noah, "Come and sit near yettee." (Yettee is a variant of seth's pet name, Yet, which noah coined from not being able to pronounce Seth.) Without thinking, I crossly replied, "You're not a Yeti, Seth." Mum replied indignantly, "Its a very good name!" To which seth quipped, "For a Yeti."

Another time, we were hurling maths questions at each other while at the dinner table, and seth dropped this bombshell; "If one is one and the other is four, how much does a T.REX weigh?" We laughed til we cried, and it wasn't even that funny.

Last night Dad came home with presents for us all, (he thought we were the greatest blessing to him ever, aww) and Noah got a toy car park that he keeps dismantling, Seth got the airfix he wanted (he saw it on a tv show), I got the book me and dad have been talking about (I have been reading it and its ever so good.), and mum got the present she couldn't live without; Lost Scriptures by Bart D. Ehrman. Its so like her, she was thrilled. All we heard was "WOW" all night. It was ever so funny.

Today I got a letter in the post that said I won a DS game in a puzzler competition. I don't know what I'd do with it if I didn't have a DS. Plus I found out that the new Doctor Who is on in less than two weeks, which has me buzzing, The latest Sarah Jane Adventure is on today, which has seth buzzing, Noah is always buzzing, and mum is buzzing because she hasn't got over her book coming. So you could say the house is a hive of activity. Hey, I made a joke!

Here is a story I wrote earlier. After that I really must go and do my french!

Reach. Pull. Pain. Reach. Pull. Ache. That is all I can feel. I remember how excited I was, in the car coming here. I remember the deafening noise – yes, that’s a good word for it – the noise of the aeroplanes overhead breaking the sound barrier. I remember the rush of adrenaline as I climbed up to the first platform, clipped on to the rope swing and hurled myself off the treetop dais. I remember the wind gently buffeting me as I swang, and the slight scratchiness of the thick rope net as I held on. Gradually that euphoria dwindled into near exhaustion as I, being as physically unfit as I am, attempted to scale the high rigging between the trees. Even as I began to slow and consider defeat, the mentor and my father and every other dear old soul kind enough to feel for me shouted out encouragement.

So that’s where I am now. Forty foot high in the forest in the middle of nowhere, with only a harness, a bit of rope, and my own minuscule physical strength keeping me from falling to the forest floor. I’m considering letting go at the moment. But that would be such a defeatist attitude! I’m disgusted at myself. How can I decide to quit now, after all the fuss I kicked up to come here, and the fact that I have so nearly done it? So, I’m trying to ignore the pain and climb further. One last stretch…..pull….that’s it…YES! As I pull myself up onto the second platform, I am suddenly aware of the forest around me. From my throne high in the tree, I look around. My breath catches in my throat as I fully admire my surroundings. Let me describe it to you. Far down on the ground there is, truthfully, not much, just bushes, short trees, and a complex network of tread-worn paths. But what I love is the way the dappled streaks of sunlight falls on it, bouncing off in different directions, making the simple bushes and trees a plethora of greens, browns, yellows, reds, purples, and especially I love the abundance of shades and tones of each colour. Far above there is an amazing canopy of colourful leaves that shadows the brown and knotted tree-trunks that I am sitting in the middle of. What’s that noise? Oh….they’re cheering me! I feel so free, so on top of the world that there is no other way to express it but a great big grin. I can feel it splitting my face from ear to ear.

I did it.

            She is trying so hard. She has her back to me, so I can’t see her face, but I can easily imagine it. I should be able to. I’m her father, and I have been for all of her eleven years of her existence. I can see her slowing down. If she’s slowing down, she’s struggling, and if she’s struggling, she needs encouragement. So I shout to her. What else can you do? “COME ON, YOU CAN DO IT! NOW IS THE HARD PART!” And other such supporting bellows. I can hear everyone else shouting too. She can obviously hear us, because she’s climbing again. YES! Oh, my daughter…you made it. She’s just realized where she is. Oh…She has always been pretty, but with that expression of fatigue, awe, and pure joy, my heart just aches for her. I think she can hear us now. What a beautiful smile!

That’s my daughter.

Bored bored bored.

I am bored. Not as bored as I was, which wasn't technically bored, more undecided. To sew, or play a computer game, read a book or go on the internet. Well, I've been sewing ALL MORNING - getting fed up with that, I'm not much of a gamer so that rules that out, I've read all the books worth reading, Seth, my little bro is using the TV for his PS2, and there's not much to do on the internet. I need something FUN to do.

GOTTA GO! Braniac science abuse is on.

Freya xx

PS: I think I found something.

First Impressions

My previous attempts at blogs have all been disasters. So hopefully with my newfound love of writing, maybe this one will be different.

I am thirteen years old. I am the eldest in a family of five; My Dad, My Mum, and my two little brothers. I live somewhere in a city that is not, thankfully, as busy as London. I like reading, writing, sewing, playing with my brothers, joking, laughing, and ASKING QUESTIONS! I don't like anything depressing or losing stuff, which seems to happen with annoying regularity. I hope to become an authoress when I grow up, and maybe even before that!

My little brothers are, characteristically, talkers. They rarely listen, except if the subject is one of chocolate, cake (that's the worst one; I make fantastic cakes), biscuits, new DVDs, sweety night, or anything else that they love. They raise an awful racket when Dad comes home from work.

Dad works in the pharmacy in the hospital. He is happy (as far as I can tell, which isn't hard), good-natured, lenient (yay), and MY DAD.

Mum is the most amazing person I have ever known, and I don't think I ever will. I can't really say much more than that, really.

I can't think of anything else to say now.

I would've liked to end this in a better way, but my mind's gone blank.

Freya x