Girl on a swing
My name is Marissa Lourdes McKay. I am eleven years old. I live in Fresno, California, with my mom (housewife), my dad (facilities manager at the university), my brother (loser) and our cat (he’s a bit old). Their names are Gloria, Steve, Anthony and Jammie, respectively. My dad Steve, he had another family before he married my mom and had me and my brother. His ex-wife is called Verena. I have only ever seen pictures of her, shown to me by my step sister, Vanessa. My dad said Vanessa is my step sister, but Verena is not my step mom. Verena re-married after she left my dad and apparently her husband is Vanessa’s step dad. My dad said Vanessa's step dad has no relation to me, either. It is all a bit confusing.
Vanessa lives with her mom and step dad in Edmonton, Canada. I’ve never been there but Vanessa told me it gets very cold in the winter. She comes to spend two or three weeks with us every summer, and we usually go on a trip somewhere together. I like Vanessa because she is like an older sister to me. Even though I only see her once a year, we catch each other online during the week and she sends me cool stuff through the mail like colourful earrings and stripey socks (I love stripey socks). She has lots of useless crap I like but can’t have, like shimmery eye shadow and fake nails (I have eye shadow too but only in pastel blue – my mom won’t let me have any shimmery stuff). Vanessa is sixteen years old, has blond hair, and is a bit fat. I’m not saying that to be mean, I only say it because that is something she herself mentions a lot, and objectively, she is a bit fat. Like, she’d say “Look at me I am so huge!” or “God I can’t eat any more I can’t afford to gain any more weight” or “Marissa I look like a gigantic hog whale standing next to you!” and so on. Regardless of what she says and what her measurements are, I think she is very pretty; she has pale blue eyes and nice big boobs but she is a teenager, and I guess that’s what teenagers do - focus on their imperfections. Maybe I will be like that too, in a couple of years' time.
I guess she takes it after dad. Dad is bit of a whale, and sometimes my mom teases him about it. But of course she is the one who puts the fried chicken and meat loaves and fried potatoes on the dinner table. She likes to feed us. My mom is tiny compared to my dad, and compared to most women her age in Fresno. But here in the Philippines, she looks quite large, even though she is a Filipina. Women here are quite skinny, I’ve noticed, even the middle aged ones.
So we are in a the Philippines, right now. This is the first long trip for us as a family. We arrived three days ago at this place called Cebu, where my mom's relatives live, and we are staying three more. After that we are going to a place called Borocay, and then to Manila, then to Singapore, and then back to California. Vanessa will not be flying to California. She will be meeting her mom and step dad in Singapore, and they will spend a few days there, before they head back to their home in Canada.
Right now, my parents and Anthony and Vanessa are vegging by the pool, or having lunch (hamburgers and mango smoothies, would be my guess) and I am here on the swing. I am not a great fan of swimming pools or beaches. It gets very hot if you don't swim. I can swim, but I don’t like to do it much, if I can avoid it. I can’t do it for pleasure, like I can with skipipng or swinging. I don’t like the feeling of not being able to breathe under water. Yesterday we all went out on a boat and we went snorkling. It was lovely seeing all the fish and the coral and all that but I did not like the taste of the plastic in my mouth nor the taste of the sea water. If I were a fish, and could breathe under water, like, if I had gills, I think I might like it more.
We are staying at this very nice hotel which has three swimming pools and its own private beach, and lots of stuff for kids to do. I am not really a kid, although my mom and dad still thinks I am. They tried to sign me up for the hotel’s “kids club” activities the first day and it was just so embarrassing as I am clearly not a kid. So I said to them, really, I’ll be okay, I am happy sunbathing and reading and playing videogames and playing on the swing. They weren’t convinced, especially dad. He thinks us “kids” need to have activities all the time or we will start drinking alcohol or take drugs or even worse, discover masturbation. I know this because I overheard him saying this to mom (she just laughed). I told him, dad, really, I just want to go play on the swing. He didn’t believe me just like he hardly ever does. I was glad when Vanessa said to him, in her usual assertive manner, that he should just let me be. He listens to Vanessa, but not to me. But that is okay. Because I like Vanessa.
This set of swings is a bit crappy as the seats are only about eighteen inches above the ground and my legs are too long for that. I guess they are designed for younger kids, although not many younger kids come round to play on them. Also, the seats are made of canvas so I can’t stand up on them. I don’t wear a watch so I don’t know what time it is now, exactly, but I guess it would be around midday, judging from the heat of the sun right over my head. Here is a graphic representation of what I am doing:
I have my earphones on, although the battery in my i-Pod is dead. On the first day it was still good so I was listening to the new Maroon 5 for the whole day but on the second day it was flat and I didn’t bring a charger with me. But it’s okay. The songs are already in my head and I play them in my head even though they are not really playing.
I can do this kind of thing, with my head, quite well. Right now, I am writing this in my head as I play the songs in my head (I drew that picture of me on the swing in my head, too). I don’t know if this is some kind of unusual skill that only some people have, I never really shared this with anyone. But I am glad to have it. Now I know what people are going to say, if they read this. They would ask, so can you do real complicated sums in your head, too? Answer is, I can’t, thankfully. I don’t want to be able do big sums without using a calculator or pen and paper.
Vanessa just walked over to check that I am okay. I told her I’m fine. She asked me if I wanted some food and I shook my head. Then she smiled at me, mouthed something, and pointed at her watch. I smiled back, and she walked back to the pool.
I have been here on the swing since after breakfast, so that would make it about three hours. Yesterday I was here pretty much all of the day, apart from breakfast, lunch and dinner. The day before that, I was here the whole afternoon. I like being on the swing. Last night, after dinner, I played video games for a little while and then I came out here to the swings again. It was nice and cool and dark and the air smelled lovely. It felt different from swinging in the daytime because you felt as if you were going faster and higher even though you were not. I might even have let out a little yelp or something out of excitment, at first. Then there was an old couple strolling by and they both stopped to look at me. It was hard to focus on them because I was swinging pretty hard and it was dark, but they looked at me for a good while. They even sat down on the bench right by the swings to look at me. I think they probably stayed around half an hour or so. I don’t know if they were talking to one another but they were holding hands the whole time. They smiled and waved me good bye when they got up to leave.
This morning, three boys, probably around my age, stood around, looked at me, pointed and giggled. Then they got on the swings next to me and in front of me, and tried to get up high like me. I am not a huge fan of boys my age; they are predictable, and this is exactly the kind of thing they will do, if you know what I mean. They just had to be as good, if not better, at doing anything that any girl they come across happens to be doing. Unless it is something obviously girly like painting their toenails or braiding their hair.
I hoped they would manage to get the momentum going but none of them did, though they tried many times. Eventually they left and one of them said (for me to hear, I suppose, for he was very loud) “This is stupid anyway, girly stuff” and the other one said “Yeah, stupid game! For stupid girls!” and the third one said “C’mon, let’s go to the pool”. Then they all ran off.
One part of me was glad they left, another part of me wanted to get down, chase after them and say “Look, it’s not stupid at all! And it’s not that hard. If you like I can show you …” But I didn’t get down and I didn’t chase after them. I could almost hear what they would have said, had I done that. I would have put them on the spot, and they would have found it hard to be nice to me in return. If I were not a girl, if there was just one of them instead of three, then it might be different.
Quite a few people like to sit on the swings and pose and have their pictures taken. On the first day, I nearly kicked a man on his head, not on purpose of course, as he was trying to get the best angle to take a picture of his girlfriend looking lovely sitting still on the swing. I let out a small cry and my heart went racing for a few seconds, but he didn’t seem to have noticed, even though I could feel my big toe brushed just so against his gelled up hair. It would be funny, though, if I had kicked him on his head and knocked him unconscious, broke his camera, and then him and his girlfriend trying to sue my parents for compensation.
Shortly after that couple left it rained, and it was lovely to feel the rain as you go up and down and high as you could on the swing, especially if you keep your mouth opened. The grounds emptied, and I saw hotel staff busy putting away equipment, dashing about taking the cushions off the deck chairs by the pool. They were very efficient, and reminded me of ants. I got pretty soaked after the shower as it came down quite heavy (although it lasted only about four songs’ worth), and after that my mom rushed out and tried to throw me a towel to dry my hair.
"Come on down now and dry yourself!” She yelled. I said “It’s okay mom I’ll dry in a minute, the sun is coming out already!” But she was not happy with that and said, “Will you for once do as I tell you? You’ll catch a cold!” “No I won’t catch anything! I promise!” “How can you promise something like that? You can’t! Come on down!” “I can’t stop now! Just throw me the towel!” At this point she had her hands on her hips, towel on her shoulder, looking cross. I knew she wouldn’t give up so eventually I did, and as I was about to come down, Vanessa came to my rescue, again, and said to my mom she would stay with me for a while so mom could just leave the towel to her. Mom did as she was told, and left us in peace.
Only that Vanessa didn’t ask me to stop, nor throw me the towel. She just stood and looked at me, and we smiled at one another, for a few seconds. Then she left. I like Vanessa.
I think I will stop writing for a while, now. The sky has turned all grey and the winds are stronger. I think it is going to rain again, soon.
So, good-bye for now. I hope you will all try swinging for many hours at a time, like I do. I know you will like it.
Vanessa lives with her mom and step dad in Edmonton, Canada. I’ve never been there but Vanessa told me it gets very cold in the winter. She comes to spend two or three weeks with us every summer, and we usually go on a trip somewhere together. I like Vanessa because she is like an older sister to me. Even though I only see her once a year, we catch each other online during the week and she sends me cool stuff through the mail like colourful earrings and stripey socks (I love stripey socks). She has lots of useless crap I like but can’t have, like shimmery eye shadow and fake nails (I have eye shadow too but only in pastel blue – my mom won’t let me have any shimmery stuff). Vanessa is sixteen years old, has blond hair, and is a bit fat. I’m not saying that to be mean, I only say it because that is something she herself mentions a lot, and objectively, she is a bit fat. Like, she’d say “Look at me I am so huge!” or “God I can’t eat any more I can’t afford to gain any more weight” or “Marissa I look like a gigantic hog whale standing next to you!” and so on. Regardless of what she says and what her measurements are, I think she is very pretty; she has pale blue eyes and nice big boobs but she is a teenager, and I guess that’s what teenagers do - focus on their imperfections. Maybe I will be like that too, in a couple of years' time.
I guess she takes it after dad. Dad is bit of a whale, and sometimes my mom teases him about it. But of course she is the one who puts the fried chicken and meat loaves and fried potatoes on the dinner table. She likes to feed us. My mom is tiny compared to my dad, and compared to most women her age in Fresno. But here in the Philippines, she looks quite large, even though she is a Filipina. Women here are quite skinny, I’ve noticed, even the middle aged ones.
So we are in a the Philippines, right now. This is the first long trip for us as a family. We arrived three days ago at this place called Cebu, where my mom's relatives live, and we are staying three more. After that we are going to a place called Borocay, and then to Manila, then to Singapore, and then back to California. Vanessa will not be flying to California. She will be meeting her mom and step dad in Singapore, and they will spend a few days there, before they head back to their home in Canada.
Right now, my parents and Anthony and Vanessa are vegging by the pool, or having lunch (hamburgers and mango smoothies, would be my guess) and I am here on the swing. I am not a great fan of swimming pools or beaches. It gets very hot if you don't swim. I can swim, but I don’t like to do it much, if I can avoid it. I can’t do it for pleasure, like I can with skipipng or swinging. I don’t like the feeling of not being able to breathe under water. Yesterday we all went out on a boat and we went snorkling. It was lovely seeing all the fish and the coral and all that but I did not like the taste of the plastic in my mouth nor the taste of the sea water. If I were a fish, and could breathe under water, like, if I had gills, I think I might like it more.
We are staying at this very nice hotel which has three swimming pools and its own private beach, and lots of stuff for kids to do. I am not really a kid, although my mom and dad still thinks I am. They tried to sign me up for the hotel’s “kids club” activities the first day and it was just so embarrassing as I am clearly not a kid. So I said to them, really, I’ll be okay, I am happy sunbathing and reading and playing videogames and playing on the swing. They weren’t convinced, especially dad. He thinks us “kids” need to have activities all the time or we will start drinking alcohol or take drugs or even worse, discover masturbation. I know this because I overheard him saying this to mom (she just laughed). I told him, dad, really, I just want to go play on the swing. He didn’t believe me just like he hardly ever does. I was glad when Vanessa said to him, in her usual assertive manner, that he should just let me be. He listens to Vanessa, but not to me. But that is okay. Because I like Vanessa.
This set of swings is a bit crappy as the seats are only about eighteen inches above the ground and my legs are too long for that. I guess they are designed for younger kids, although not many younger kids come round to play on them. Also, the seats are made of canvas so I can’t stand up on them. I don’t wear a watch so I don’t know what time it is now, exactly, but I guess it would be around midday, judging from the heat of the sun right over my head. Here is a graphic representation of what I am doing:
I have my earphones on, although the battery in my i-Pod is dead. On the first day it was still good so I was listening to the new Maroon 5 for the whole day but on the second day it was flat and I didn’t bring a charger with me. But it’s okay. The songs are already in my head and I play them in my head even though they are not really playing.
I can do this kind of thing, with my head, quite well. Right now, I am writing this in my head as I play the songs in my head (I drew that picture of me on the swing in my head, too). I don’t know if this is some kind of unusual skill that only some people have, I never really shared this with anyone. But I am glad to have it. Now I know what people are going to say, if they read this. They would ask, so can you do real complicated sums in your head, too? Answer is, I can’t, thankfully. I don’t want to be able do big sums without using a calculator or pen and paper.
Vanessa just walked over to check that I am okay. I told her I’m fine. She asked me if I wanted some food and I shook my head. Then she smiled at me, mouthed something, and pointed at her watch. I smiled back, and she walked back to the pool.
I have been here on the swing since after breakfast, so that would make it about three hours. Yesterday I was here pretty much all of the day, apart from breakfast, lunch and dinner. The day before that, I was here the whole afternoon. I like being on the swing. Last night, after dinner, I played video games for a little while and then I came out here to the swings again. It was nice and cool and dark and the air smelled lovely. It felt different from swinging in the daytime because you felt as if you were going faster and higher even though you were not. I might even have let out a little yelp or something out of excitment, at first. Then there was an old couple strolling by and they both stopped to look at me. It was hard to focus on them because I was swinging pretty hard and it was dark, but they looked at me for a good while. They even sat down on the bench right by the swings to look at me. I think they probably stayed around half an hour or so. I don’t know if they were talking to one another but they were holding hands the whole time. They smiled and waved me good bye when they got up to leave.
This morning, three boys, probably around my age, stood around, looked at me, pointed and giggled. Then they got on the swings next to me and in front of me, and tried to get up high like me. I am not a huge fan of boys my age; they are predictable, and this is exactly the kind of thing they will do, if you know what I mean. They just had to be as good, if not better, at doing anything that any girl they come across happens to be doing. Unless it is something obviously girly like painting their toenails or braiding their hair.
I hoped they would manage to get the momentum going but none of them did, though they tried many times. Eventually they left and one of them said (for me to hear, I suppose, for he was very loud) “This is stupid anyway, girly stuff” and the other one said “Yeah, stupid game! For stupid girls!” and the third one said “C’mon, let’s go to the pool”. Then they all ran off.
One part of me was glad they left, another part of me wanted to get down, chase after them and say “Look, it’s not stupid at all! And it’s not that hard. If you like I can show you …” But I didn’t get down and I didn’t chase after them. I could almost hear what they would have said, had I done that. I would have put them on the spot, and they would have found it hard to be nice to me in return. If I were not a girl, if there was just one of them instead of three, then it might be different.
Quite a few people like to sit on the swings and pose and have their pictures taken. On the first day, I nearly kicked a man on his head, not on purpose of course, as he was trying to get the best angle to take a picture of his girlfriend looking lovely sitting still on the swing. I let out a small cry and my heart went racing for a few seconds, but he didn’t seem to have noticed, even though I could feel my big toe brushed just so against his gelled up hair. It would be funny, though, if I had kicked him on his head and knocked him unconscious, broke his camera, and then him and his girlfriend trying to sue my parents for compensation.
Shortly after that couple left it rained, and it was lovely to feel the rain as you go up and down and high as you could on the swing, especially if you keep your mouth opened. The grounds emptied, and I saw hotel staff busy putting away equipment, dashing about taking the cushions off the deck chairs by the pool. They were very efficient, and reminded me of ants. I got pretty soaked after the shower as it came down quite heavy (although it lasted only about four songs’ worth), and after that my mom rushed out and tried to throw me a towel to dry my hair.
"Come on down now and dry yourself!” She yelled. I said “It’s okay mom I’ll dry in a minute, the sun is coming out already!” But she was not happy with that and said, “Will you for once do as I tell you? You’ll catch a cold!” “No I won’t catch anything! I promise!” “How can you promise something like that? You can’t! Come on down!” “I can’t stop now! Just throw me the towel!” At this point she had her hands on her hips, towel on her shoulder, looking cross. I knew she wouldn’t give up so eventually I did, and as I was about to come down, Vanessa came to my rescue, again, and said to my mom she would stay with me for a while so mom could just leave the towel to her. Mom did as she was told, and left us in peace.
Only that Vanessa didn’t ask me to stop, nor throw me the towel. She just stood and looked at me, and we smiled at one another, for a few seconds. Then she left. I like Vanessa.
I think I will stop writing for a while, now. The sky has turned all grey and the winds are stronger. I think it is going to rain again, soon.
So, good-bye for now. I hope you will all try swinging for many hours at a time, like I do. I know you will like it.
posted by Pierre at 10:14 AM
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