‘Those who can soar to the highest heights…
…can also plunge to the deepest depths’…
As quoted from the many words of L. M. Montgomery; she has, in only a single and short sentence, described my year of 2012 which, in the dwindling of days, is slowly unravelling its inevitable end.
I trekked for miles over Icelandic mountains, pushed myself in every way imaginable and survived the lot, yet I was also forced to realise that friendship- no matter how old and seemingly cherished- can mean so little when faced with the depths of despair.
I kissed the man of whom three years ago I would have given my right arm to marry and consequently unveiled that things aren’t -at least not always- as good as we may imagine them to be.
I have lived a great deal of wonderful moments and so carry a hand full of memories but I’ve also had to say goodbye.
I’ve fallen in to the arms of ‘love’ but then gripped by the torment of heartache.
It’s been a year and yet it seems like so much more.
I can’t help but feel as though I look like a villain in this photograph! Haha.
When I was eleven years old not only was I shorter and certainly more lost in a seemingly scary world but what has recently been brought to my attention is how I was actually rather picky and particular in the (even scarier!) field of ‘men’….
Yes! It turns out my ‘needs’ when it came to men were nothing short of an entire epilogue of ‘musts’ and ‘must nots’ in the form of a bullet point list that I (six years later, and much to my shame) have discovered and decided to share right here on Pinkjumpers and with it perhaps I shall also share a glimpse into mind of the eleven year old Anna…
Starting with ‘Musts’ (bearing in mind that these under NO circumstances can be negotiated if he had any hope of becomming my ‘lover’)…
- He must have black hair
- He must listen to rock/punk/emo music
- He must be able to take a joke (I suppose this one still stands!)
- He must bath, brush his teeth and wash (I’m not sure how many smelly males I encountered to inspire this!)
- He must be good mannered
- He must play guitar, the drums and rugby
- His favourite lesson must be art
- He must have green eyes (seriously?!)
- He must be tall
- He must be ‘above average’ in intelligence (is that in order challenge your own aged 11 intelligence Anna?!)
- (and commence me forever sounding like a paedophile) He must be 12 years old.
And if this list wasn’t extensive enough in my guildlines for the perfect ‘man’ here are my equally shameful ‘Must Nots’…
- Must not get angry
- Must have no piercings
- Must not read books
- Must not get scared (because aged 11 Anna who is petrified of earwigs is the definition of pure bravery?!)
I’m quite glad to say that I’ve moved on (a lot!) from this mindset; realising that in reality ‘love’ doesn’t fit into a bullet point list.
What I have come to realise lately, however, is that having standards (though far from like those featured above!) is necessary if you’re going to be in a lasting and fulfilling relationship. And that’s okay because if you find yourself compromising your own morals and even who you are in a relationship then you’ve got to know that you’re cutting yourself short. You can do better. How do I know this?
Because I learned the hard way.
I didn’t actually intend for this post to end on such a serious note but I truly believe in the importance of never compromising who you are. Thanks for reading! 🙂
There are a number of nonsensical and short-sighted arguments in favour of the discrimination against homosexuals but what my eyes fell witness to the other day may have just have topped them all…
In the form of a questionable advertisement that recently made tracks across the internet, an argument was advocated against homosexual parents. However, despite its clear homophobic incentive, the only possible insight that was gained on my behalf was that the people who are dumb enough to create and deliver such tragic arguments are generally the ones ignorant enough to hold such views in the fist place.
In short, the scene depicted two children playing at a park before each succumbed to a fate of falling off a climbing wall and hence brought about the concerned attention of the aforementioned children’s parents. Obviously one child was to be met by a generic and squeamishly-sensitive mother who, after noticing his solitude, questioned the other child with ‘where’s your mommy?’. It was then he became shadowed by two seemingly cold-hearted silhouettes (of which I presume were his fathers) who simply on-looked the hurt child before the ad ended with the painfully misguided sentiment; ‘Marriage, One Man One Woman’.
So taking the advert’s claim that a child can only expect to be cared for if he or she is fortunate enough come from a ‘nuclear family unit’ then what about all the children brought up by single parents? Grandparents? No parents?
Are we really expected to believe that the 21.8 million children in the U.S.A. who are being brought up by a single parent are simply not receiving necessary care? That they are even perhaps in danger of neglect?
Of course not.
For what this advert is singularly attempting to insinuate are the flawed perceptions that a child brought up with two parents who happen to be of the same gender ultimately (because of that factor alone) are ineffective and even negligent as parents when there is simply no evidence to support this at all.
There are currently 60, 000 children living in care homes in the U.K. alone. That is 60,000 children without a secure home and that perfect and apparently necessary ‘one man one woman family unit’. And let me tell you,
not a single of those children are living with such deprivation because of negligent gay parents.
There are so many other flaws within this argument that my threateningly-frozen fingers would be at risk of simply breaking off if I were to continue stamping out my outrage via the pressing of computer keys.
Nevertheless please don’t be afraid to tell me that my points suck and that I should rethink my entire life! Thank you for reading! 🙂
It’s a seemingly wise saying that you don’t know what you have until it’s gone.
Yet I have found myself realising what I didn’t have now it’s gone.
And so my life continues to do its thing in its own awkward fashion.
Steve Jobs once said ‘The people who are crazy enough to think they can change the world, are the ones who do.”
And if I could take any crazy step to change the world it would be that everyone must listen to Bob Dylan and his music, his lyrics and his poetry at least once a day.
Because I have faith (perhaps too much?) in his words.