Sorry I'm Late, I Suppose

I'm not sure what I'm going to talk about today. What's going on in my life at the moment, you ask, wanting to give me inspiration as to what to write? Well, nothing much, to be honest. All I can say is I was in Spain up until twelve yesterday (Friday).

Spain?

It's lovely, especially the little place I was. I have to hand it to them, the Spanish have the resilience to give in to learning English with perfectly articulate words while firmly remaining delved within the Spanish roots. The place I went to was probably the most anglicized of the lot, and yet all the natives spoke their own language with the utmost pride, not giving in for one moment to the Englishness that seemed to pervade the crisp, cultural, sweetly scented scene of Torremilinos in Spain.

Spain in October?

The weather's nice, albeit the low lying fog that settled over us like a thick, unsnuggly, rather annoying duvet sent my mind to the suspicions that it wasn't going to be the sunny break of doing nothing that I yearned for since fifth year settled in. Then, after a humid evening, Wednesday morning opened up the refreshing air, cold but with a crispness that didn't send you searching for your coat.

Spain's Population...?

By population, most teenage girl's minds snaps straight to the gorgeously tanned boys that roam the beach with their swimming trunks hanging lower around their delectably tanned fronts... The masculinity echoing waves of sauciness that send women into a hot flush as they breeze past.... The smugness of their hint-of-a-smile and the confident look in their eyes that sends any woman within a five feet radius spinning in a drooling, melted mess on the floor. Or beach. Or Jacuzzi. Or wherever you happen to be.

However...

The teenage girl's mind didn't anticipate the sea of swimming, tufty grey hair that sits on the top of a balding man. Blotched skin, like thick, wrinkled leather that sits on their faces. Some mahogany -resembling that old, tan-coloured, leather couch we all have come across in a home, the one that everyone refuses to sit out of principal. These had exactly the same stature when sitting down, although not as comfortable. Others were that pale, greying colour that leaves them looking drawn and bulgy eyes and their mouths, just seem to be puckered continuously. Or as I recently encountered, stuck open and rounded like a gawking goldfish.

I'm not talking about those uber-sexy, brown-golden haired, handsome Spanish boys with their piercing, liquid-gold eyes.

I'm talking old, decrepit men, walking around on their shiny little Zimmer-frames, inching this way and that, causing road blocks and numerous accidents. You want man-boobies? I got them everyday!

Nah, in saying that, I didn't mind. My thoughts were elsewhere, in the quiet murmurings of my own vivid imagination, creating perfect scenarios of things I want to happen. Something I spend a bit too much time doing these days.

It was nice to get away, to see a different country, and anyone who has been to Torremilinos would never trade it up, the people are lovely, it's quite anglicized. You wake up in the mornings and wander outside and embrace the crisp, October air with your nostrils, welcoming its refreshing feel into every little bronchiole. The sea is an idyllic myriad of forty shades of blue, and the shimmering gold and silver. The sand, a perfect, sandy colour of pleasant gold and the weird, pineapple-like trees floating above us, against the sky.

Was I happy to be back?

Undoubtedly. I don't think I could've stayed longer. Not only fifth year's burgeoning duties or my parents and their annoying ways (especially felt because of the absence of a certain older brother), but because I felt I was missing out. Even if I wasn't, the only place I wanted to be then was home.

Home.

I know I'll end up leaving the nest eventually, and frankly, I can't wait to get gone, even if it's only to Dublin. But right now, my life and everything in it is here.

And you could NOT get me to go away with my parents again.

So the next time I'll be shuffling abroad, you ask?

We'll have to see, but at the moment, I'm thinking France. Namely Paris, but maybe inter-railing would be a good start. Lots of variety and very fetching boys to ogle in a variety of places.

Now, back to the homework I've been avoiding... Anyone else notice who procrastinating against one thing will make you do other things you previously were avoiding? Life's funny like that....


Peace out, Y'all,

Arma.