The November Journal

It’s November 25th. The sky is miserably grey and despite being five days away from summer, I’ve had to pull out my thermals again.

“How nice,” I thought, “to enjoy this melancholy weekend weather in a quiet café.”

So here I am. Enjoying my coffee, tapping away at my computer, getting an early start on the November Journ-

“I had a shooting pain in my vagina”

I’ve stopped immediately. Someone’s just unleashed a sentence I didn’t think I’d hear at midday in a quiet café in Fitzroy. It’s been delivered in the loudest, most shameless, Canadian accent from the corner of the room.

I’m trying to hone back into my rhythm, but I can’t stop listening to the conversation flowing out of this girl’s mouth. Talk about a gripping introduction – I’m hooked.

Moral of her story: the shooting pain made her realise how flawed her relationship is with her mother. Which segued into a discussion about how she’s lived with anxiety her whole life but didn’t know what “anxiety” was. Which then prompted her to talk about the wonderful guy she’s fallen for. You see, he told her that he liked her, but she freaked out and slept with two different guys.

“But seriously, we need to condemn terrorism!”

I’m really struggling to keep up now. Her conversation has taken far too many topical avenues. The waiter drops a glass and it’s shattered everywhere. It’s the only thing that’s silenced her in the past two hours.

I catch a glimpse in the direction of the voice. Tucked away in the corner is a table hosting two young girls – both backpackers who, based on their interactions, are relatively new friends. Girl A cannot stop talking. She’s loud, but not in an obnoxious way – she obviously has a lot to get off her chest. Girl B has barely made a peep. She chimes in occasionally to agree with Girl A and offer some kind of solace.

I realise I’m being incredibly nosey by listening so intently to their conversation and dictating it almost word for word. Even more mysteriously, I have an underlying want to join them. I can’t put my finger on what’s so attractive about them? Perhaps it’s the confidence Girl A possesses, or the way I can picture myself being Girl B (always the listener around Girl A’s type, rarely the contributor). Maybe it’s just the fact that they’re both backpackers.

They’ve been asked very politely to leave – their table is reserved. I’m disheartened when they finally get up to go. Whatever it was about them, they’ve left a happy mark on my day; which, upon reflection, has been a bit like my November. I’ve been continually surprised by the moments of unexpected delight – like the impromptu day we spent dancing at Melbourne’s Latin Festival, or last Tuesday when we bought tubs of ice cream and Nutella and watched telly late into the night, or when the radiographer let me listen to the A Star Is Born soundtrack inside the MRI machine – or when I listened to the final episode of My Dad Wrote A Porno a stranger had to ask if I was okay after she saw my face glistening with tears (of laughter).  

Life is so weird and funny.

I guess what I’m trying to say is: November was great.