JustAnne.

A Kiss Sweet and Sorrowful.

A few weeks ago I met a young man on a night club dance floor. It was late in the evening so I conceded a dance with him. As we boogied, he apologised for only being able to twirl me with one arm. I hadn't at all noticed, but became curious and took the bait. "Why's that?" I asked, to which he replied that he had recently had surgery. I laughed and made a comment about playing the sympathy card, but he didn't quite hear me so I let it drop and asked him what the surgery was for. I expected it to be related to a sporting injury or car accident. But no, it was cancer. Melanoma. 

He told me his tale with the kind of weary optimism that I suppose the young must have when going through something so uncomprehendingly frightening. Little did he know that the woman he was talking to had a background in biomedical science, so when he mentioned that there were cancer cells in one third of his lymph nodes, I knew his prognosis was not good. "People feel sorry for me" he said, "But I'm just trying to get on with things and have a good time, at least until the chemo starts". I replied "fair enough" and let the subject drop. We continued dancing and eventually, we kissed.

The kiss itself was perhaps the sweetest I have so far experienced, but I could not ignore the tragedy attached to it. He was 23.

This moment has been popping into my head of late, so it feels important to record it. I could take the cynical view, that he was playing the cancer card to get laid or that the story was made up, to get laid. But it doesn't sit right. I might not be able to remember his name, but I will always remember his kiss. 

Danger: Introspection Ahoy.

Now, I know it's a little bit naff, but earlier in the year I read an outline of the 'impression I give others' in relation to my starsign, and while I feel that this astrology stuff is a bit hit and miss, this felt disturbingly spot on. Intensively paraphrased, the outline stated:

"There is a great disparity between how you feel about certain situations, and the impression you offer to an unsuspecting world.  ... The vast majority of those with whom you live and work see you as being ultra-confident, very cool and quite capable. ... [there is a] barrier placed between your inner mind and your outward persona. ... Think what a great gift it is rarely to show that you're quaking inside." (I should probably note at this point that I am a Capricorn)

Why is this relevant to me right now? Well, truth be told some of the ikky work stuff alluded to previously has been getting the better of me this week. Indeed, I seem to be slowly perfecting the art of the drive-home-teary. I am emotionally exhausted, bloated from comfort eating and hormonal as hell. This combined with intense work stresses makes for one messy little Anne. I can generally keep my shit together when I am at work or around others, but when I am alone (ie. driving somewhere after work), things start to get a little bit loose. The problem with this? It taps into some rather intense feelings of loneliness. 

You see, as the random astrological description indicates, there is a difference between what is happening inside of me and what others see. That is not to say that I am fake and spend all day lying to people. I pride myself in being honest and open in the things I choose to share with the world, but just like everyone else I choose what I share. And while poo, farts, vomit, menstrual cycles, snogging, embarrassing-chair-breakage-moments et al are open slather, tales of that highlight my insecurities certainly aren't. And while emotional outbursts like anger, frustration, excitement and joy are all out there for all to see, my fears and sadness generally are not. So for the most part the world gets to see happy-go-lucky, mildly mad but kind hearted Anne (which is me roughly 95% of the time). However, when sad and broken Anne comes out to play she finds herself all alone.

Don't get me wrong, there are plenty of people I can reach out to, friends, family, co-workers. But for the first time this does not seem like enough. For the first time I find myself wishing there was someone in my life that I could hold and just 'be' with when I am all broken and sad. Someone who would respect and accept all of me, and that I would feel comfortable sharing everything with. Someone who is not my mother. 

You know, I think there would be a lot of things I would be willing to overlook for the man that can deal with my brokenness as well as my extreme fabulousness. Maybe even a partiality to the guitar. As long as it wasn't played at me. 

(You see!!? You see how I even end a 'heartspill' post with a joke to make me look okay? Blah!!)

Feeling Fragile.

As of this morning, George my curious fish has passed away. I only had him one week today. I am a bad fish mum. So I sit here, drowning my sorrows in a chai latte, remembering George. And i ponder life's big questions, is there a fishy heaven? And why does Starbucks call it's small, a tall? 

Here is the only picture i have of George, but it hardly does him justice as he wasn't those colours at all. He was much prettier.