A little philosophical nonsense....

I was having a chat with my mum today about the dysfunctionality (if there is such a word) of my family and she told me that we were normal in comparison to some families. I scoffed. But then I had a think about it... and she might well be right. I mean, don't get me wrong. To an outsider my family is probably as strange as they come, I've got very odd aunties and uncles, weird cousins and just plain nuts grandparents. My mum calls me slutbeast, my brother wants to kill me most of the time and my dad says "bollocks" every time he burps. But then, don't all families have their little quirks?

"Do you want some lunch?" my mum asks
"Ten-four mama bear" I reply. All things considered, I'd say I'm pretty well adjusted.
I haven't always thought this though. When I was younger, I thought I'd never be secure or confident. My childhood was happy, to an extent, but for years I flinched every time my parents raised their voices for fear of another argument. And I sometimes still do. I strain to hear over the TV, but it's never anything to worry myself over.
Still happily married, I sometimes look at my parents and marvel at their commitment and strength.

It's funny though, even though I've seen how hard my parents have had to work, and been there first hand in past relationships, I still have a very idealistic view of love and relationships. I think love should conquer all and I think that there should always be a fiery passion, til the very last day. I know that the likelihood of this is actually slim to none but still, a girl can hope, right?!

I guess this is a little deep for this time of night. But after a day of hard revision, my mind began to wander, and this is where it brought me. I think one day I might try some therapy, and get all my issues out, but for now, my humble little blog will do just fine.

Apart from revising, today has been fairly uneventful. I went to see my grandparents for a couple of hours as I don't get to see them much these days and I loved the double take they both did when they saw my hair. It's once again "cyber purple" (according to the packet) and this time it's permanent!
"What have you done to your hair?" my grandad said in surprise
"I dyed it purple!" I grinned the same grin that I deployed as a young child when I wanted a sip of his bitter, or when I wanted him to tell me a story. It's a winner everytime. It's lethal when used correctly.
He muttered a cynical "hmmm" and looked at my mums hair to make sure she hadn't done the same thing. My grandma, purely because she likes to contradict him said "I think it really suits you!" Bless them.

Ten-four sreggolb