What's in a kiss?

CUE SOPPY POST
So today I've had a day off, and stayed at home due to my near-fatal strain of man-flu I have contracted. Being confined pretty much to my room alone, I started flicking through coffee table photography books, and I rediscovered a photo that I have always loved.

The Kiss at the City Hall, by Robert Doisneau

This photo has always held a kind of fascination to me. I know it was staged, but it somehow doesn't matter - the way the man just takes the woman for an impromptu, spontaneous kiss... to me, this is just absolute definition of romance. Call me old-fashioned, but this is how it should be.

So I started looking at some more Doisneau photographs. He took lots of photos of couples kissing in Paris (some might say cliche,) but they proved to be incredibly popular. Just what is it about a kiss that fascinates us so intensely? 

The blurred people in the background on this are lovely - the shutter speed must have been so slow!

They even hold an almost sacred place in films - for what would Spiderman be without MJ's upside-downy kiss, or Lady and the Tramp without the spaghetti shenanigans? I put together a wee shortlist of the best kisses in film (not exhaustive.)

Breakfast at Tiffany's (1961)

A kiss in the rain never fails. Definite brownie points for that trench coat, too.

Spiderman (2002)

Well, it solved the "where do I put my nose?" question. If you have a big nose. Like me.

The Notebook (2004)

I'm a girl, ok? I'm allowed to like this. I'm allowed to like a muscular, sodden Ryan Gosling holding his childhood sweetheart in the rain. I am.

Lord of the Rings: Return of the King (2003)

Yay! Elf love!

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows: Part 2 (2011)

Everyone knew it was coming. Everyone knew it would be awkward. It did not disappoint!

Whilst searching for the pictures, I came across a series of photos taken by a photographer in Central Park... I'll let you fill in the gaps yourselves.

That's the money shot, right there.

Oh, God. Am I going all soft?! What a worrying prospect.
Mx

Things that men should know

I apologise in advance - this post will be a little bit Owl-flavoured. The Obnoxious Owl (she's good, have a butchers) does little posts to her male readers occaisonally, instructing them, generally on matters involving their appearance, manners, sexual health and/or relationship ettiquette. Some of these points would be helpful for Mr. Megan, but he will never read this blog... never!

1. IF YOU SMELL NICE, GIRLS WILL LIKE YOU
I honestly do not think it is too much to ask for a lad to shower daily, apply deodorant (but don't give me any of this Lynx overdosage) and maybe a bit of aftershave... if you shave. If you don't shave, please go back to whatever cave you came from until you can grow a beard.

2. STUBBLE IS NICE
But bear in mind, if you're a little rougher around the face, you're going to have to go a bit gentler, or your bird is going to wake up looking like she tried to drink Cherryade and missed her mouth.

3. THE STATE OF YOUR BED/BEDROOM DIRECTLY LINKS TO YOUR SEXUAL PROWESS
If you can't make your bed, there's no way you can make babies. Also, you know that feeling you get when you're freshly showered and slip into fresh sheets? Yeah, we like that too. So you know... fresh sheets + fresh smelling fella = happy lady.

4. WEARING MORE THAN THREE BRACELETS AT A TIME WILL NOT MAKE YOU JASON MRAZ.
Nor will it make you attractive. Unless you are Jason Mraz.

5. IT'S KIND OF HOT TO BE A BIT JEALOUS
Ok, this one is directly stolen from the Owl herself. But seriously - a LITTLE bit of jealousy means you'll probably be getting laid that night.

6. THIS IS A TEXT THAT WOULD PRODUCE AN INSTANT FLACCID
hi babe :) saw you the other day! :P looking good ;) haven't seen you in ages! :( meet up sometime? <3 xxx
Oh look, I can see the exact facial expressions you're pulling from your emoticons. It looks like you just had a facial spasm in my inbox.

7. NEVER COMMENT ON A LADY GARDEN
You cannot crush pride in a more spectacular way. Don't even say you like it. Especially don't say you don't like it. Don't even comment - if you're significant other is British, she will appreciate your sense of decorum in the face of what is most likely a carefully-manicured garden.

8. NEVER REFER TO THE FEMALE GENITALIA USING ANY OF THE FOLLOWING WORDS:
Cunt. Fanny. Poonany. Axe-wound. Pussy. Winkie.

9. IF YOUR FAVOURITE BAND IS ALL TIME LOW/ENTER SHIKARI/SNOW PATROL, YOU CAN NEVER BE SEXY
But if I've seen you in a mosh-pit, it's hard for you not to be.

10. JUST BECAUSE A GIRL HAS HAD OTHER MEN, IT DOES NOT MEAN SHE IS A SLAG
And under no circumstances can you refer to the time she was seeing more than one man as "the slag phase."

11. TREATING ME LIKE I AM 3 YEARS OLD WHEN I'M DRUNK WILL NOT WIN YOU ANY BROWNIE POINTS
It might get you a pint in the face though.

Mx

06.03.11

So, today came around all too soon, I guess. I can't believe it's been a year, I still feel just as much of a mess as I did this time last year, I've just learnt to contain it better. It makes me really sad to look back on what I've done in the year since, how royally I have screwed up and how close I came to just losing it, but it also makes me a little bit proud to see that somehow, in some areas, I've managed to pull it back. It's also comforting to know that I do have some friends that really care about me, no matter how unexpected that seemed, I know that they're the ones I should hold onto. I suppose I've really known that all along.
Anyway, today isn't about me.
I tried really hard to find a good poem that could express loss properly, but they were all to religious and figurative, so in the end I thought I'd go with this. He really loved this song, well before Adele covered it, and he was absolutely mad on Dylan, so I thought this was appropriate.

When the rain is blowin' in your face
And the whole world is on your case
I could offer you a warm embrace
To make you feel my love.

When the evening shadows and the stars appear
And there is no one there to dry your tears
I could hold you for a million years
To make you feel my love.

I know you haven't made your mind up yet
But I would never do you wrong
I've known it from the moment that we met
No doubt in my mind where you belong.

I'd go hungry, I'd go black and blue
I'd go crawlin' down the avenue
No, there's nothin' that I wouldn't do
To make you feel my love.

Though storms are raging on the rollin' sea
And on the highway of regrets
Though winds of change are throwing wild and free
You ain't seen nothin' like me yet.

I could make you happy, make your dreams come true
Nothing that I wouldn't do
Go to the ends of the Earth for you
To make you feel my love.

Hope I'm not depressing you too much of late. I'll be back on form soon.
Mx

Today is a Saturday

Sometimes, I marvel at how lucky I am. Today was one of those days.
I woke up to every teenage girls dream; sunlight shining through the curtains, birds singing, big muscly arms around me, to be followed by unlimited cups of coffee and breakfast in bed. Empty house, hot shower, more coffee, and then back into bed with Mr Megan to hide under the covers for a while. I then went home to my family; my sister has just learnt to swim underwater, my dad has just been invited to a second interview for his new job. Then I made pancakes and watched the rugby. Little things like these make me happy.
Not just cliche moments like this morning, just the fact that my family is all happy and healthy, even if they're not quite right in the head, sometimes irritatingly Tory, and embarrassingly racist. My friends might not be flawlessly supportive, or without their own annoying quirks, but I love them to pieces and I think (and hope!) that they care about me too. I have a house to live in and financially, we might not be cracking but at least we're fairly solid now.
It's times like these, when we feel as though we should be truly thankful, that our minds automatically drift to the best times we can remember. It might seem strange, but is it not so? When we go to a good party, do you not compare it to the best one you can remember (or the better ones you can't?) When we're on a first date, do we not compare the poor fella to that One That Got Away?
I know I always think back to a time when life seemed (GAYYYCRINGECLICHE) a bit magical, when I first realised that I was lucky and had pretty much the whole world open to me, when I first tested the waters of what was to come. I think of the crazy times, the times I can hardly remember, and the moments I will remember forever, because they seemed to stretch out seconds into little pockets of nostalgia.
This is a seemingly unrelated introduction to my main point; that the loved ones that we lose can seem all the more lovable for what more they could have shared. You'll always remember the one you couldn't have for the love you'll never know - for the depths you never knew it could reach, and the things you never knew they could teach you. The truth is, the people we lose in life teach us the more about ourselves than anyone else, and yet this is the love that is the most pure and unselfish. The moments we share with them become the most treasured, and the ones that you replay over and over again in your mind, fighting with your memory to recall the smallest details, and keep them tattooed in your mind forever. They are the conversations that you will kick yourself for having, or worse, for not having. They are the goodbyes that will seem the most callous and unfeeling on your part, and the remarks the most flippant and stupid. Stupid.
You could torture yourself with "what if I had said this?" and "why didn't I just tell him that?" and no, it probably wouldn't have driven him away and yes, you are the reason the goodbye was so painful. But at the end of the day, the worst pain is knowing that they're not there, and never will be.
If you have time today, do something for somebody else. Donate some money to the Leukaemia and Lymphoma Society. Donate blood. Tell that person you love them. Stop being afraid, and too proud, and stubborn, and cold. Yeah, you'll seem like a cock, but I know I wish I had.

Mx
http://www.mariecurie.org.uk/en-gb/who-we-are/services/?gclid=CMvYw_Gduq4CFUsMtAodimYR_Q
http://leukaemialymphomaresearch.org.uk/
http://www.cancerresearchuk.org/




This post is dedicated to Emma Donald, whom I did not know well enough. She triggered, but did not inspire, this post. R.I.P. x

Flamehead

So, I finally dyed my hair, after realising my roots were actually horrific, as pointed out lovingly by my younger sister - "Megan, you're hair is black at the top!"
A la my new years resolutions, I had a strange and "bad taste" dye job, just, you know, to build character!

It's sort of red at the top, fading to strawberry blond, rocking that whole "ombre effect" thing - it is much, MUCH, brighter than it appears here, but I can't get good sunlight in February at a time when I feel awake!

Also, as promised, here is a picture of my tattoo...

YES, THESE ARE MY BOOBIES. However, I am not flashing them, or pushing them together with a wry little pout, it is purely for the illustration of da tat, init. So don't judge me, please.

Love, Peace and Silly Little Things,
Mx

“To change one’s life: Start Immediately. Do it Flamboyantly. No Exceptions.” – William James

Recently, I've been thinking. And you know what? More than anything, I think I am sick of fitting in. I'm quite fed up of living my life one way, a certain way, because that's how you're supposed to do it. It might well be the best way, but I'd rather find that out for myself.
This is how life for a person like me goes: you go to school. You learn to work. You do sixth form, go to university, get in incredible amounts of unneccesary debt, go into a low paid, unfulfilling job straight away to start paying them off, holiday in Majorca, get married, have babies, holiday in Menorca. Die.
I'm sorry, but fuck that. This is what everyone expects me to do, and what everyone wants me to do. Insane amounts of hard work and effort seem to go into producing a standard of living which is frankly morbidly average, and it depresses the hell out of me.
Maybe there are other ways. Maybe you can take a massive jump outside your comfort zone and - and this is hugely corny - carve your own path out. I don't want to have the same experiences, same values, same life as my mother, my grandmother, and my great-grandmother before me. I see no fulfilment in that. Its just that kicking out on my own seems like such a frightening and lonely prospect - but I don't want fear to keep me stuck to this shitty path to disenchantment.
I don't know if you've ever heard of Yes Man. It was an experiment by Danny Wallace, who said yes to every opportunity that came his way, everything, and it enriched his life. Lately, I've been saying yes. Yes to a tattoo, yes to crazy hair, yes to a free 60's makeover. I was asked to a ball the other night, and I said no. Everyone else went, and seemed to have a fantastic night. What would have happened if I'd have said yes? What would happen if I said yes to every opportunity, however remote and far-flung? What if I said yes to the Australian work placement scheme laying at the bottom of my bed, or the lone trip to Ireland that's been forming in my mind all year?
Urgh, I feel horribly neurotic and teen, moaning about how humdrum my life is, and I do apologise. It's been almost a year since I lost someone who taught me everything I know about "carving my own path," doing whatever I want to do and having the self-belief to think, "you know what? Fuck you and your entire existence." And to be perfectly honest, I'm still as lost as my first day without him.

C-c-countdown

Days until my tattoo... only a tiny one, but I'm still nervous! I've watched youtube videos of people basically blacking out, vomitting and DYING on encountering their first.

Days until my "valentine's day surprise." Yep, that's right. Me. Celebrating Valentine's Day. Bring it.

Days until I see the Kabeedies live... if you haven't heard them, have a cheeky little browse on YouTube, Spotify orrrr http://thekabeedies.bandcamp.com/ have a butchers on there.

...and who knows how many days until I get busted for just generally failing at Sixth Form. Yeah, so I'm getting A's, but who the fuck cares about my grades when oh my gosh will you just look at the girls attendance?! HOW SHOCKING. 86% people. And I am in NON-COMPULSORY EDUCATION. I'm not asking for the Earth hey, just a bit of slack. Je suis humane.

Love, Peace, and For Christ's Sake's don't go do A-Levels,
Mx