Lesson 164. Tune into the rain and out of the fly.

There's a fly in my bedroom. It's a bee in my bonnet.

The incessant buzzing is driving me to the great line of sanity and I'm about to start kicking my legs and flailing my arms about in sheer frustration.

There's rain on my window pane. It's my favourite lullaby.

It sings of safety. It feels like home.

There's a battle between the two. And I'll admit that right now it's easier to listen to the buzzing, it's closer and it dominates. The rain though beautiful seems further, and harder to hear above the fly. But right now, I'll choose it.

I choose to hear the rain. To hear the sweet sound. To block out the cheap noise and choose something that reminds me of the beauty in life, something that I trust as constant and true. I choose to tune out the fly, to listen beyond him for better things. To ignore what bothers me and look towards what makes my heart happy.

I choose to hear words spoken out of love. I choose to hear the laughter of a child or the sound of happy tears embracing the ground. I choose to trust those who I know are full of wisdom and are consistent with sharing it. I choose to ignore the talk of those who stir for the sake of stirring, I choose to listen beyond them and hear the voices of those who believe and know truth about me and my decisions.

Tune into the rain and out of the fly.

Lesson 163. For goodness sake, fight.

Fighting is a funny thing.

I quarreled with my parents throughout numerous conversations today. I have like a five second rebound rate and then I'm right into the apology, I don't stay mad for long enough for bickering to effect our relationship. Still, I apologised and expressed my frustration with myself for being generally agitated. My Dad simply said, "At least you're fighting again."

He made me think. He often does that. I realised that he was referring to the somewhat out of character passive state I'd been in for the last few months.  He was right, at least I'd started fighting again.

When we fight, we take on fire. We pack punches with great gumption because we're living with passion and without apathy. Fighting means we're fighting for something, it means we have a cause, a greater agenda and that's something to acknowledge and appreciate. You might not quite be at the place you're wanting to be but at least you're fighting for it.

For goodness sake, fight. 

Lesson 162. Pack up properly.

I packed my year into twelve boxes and a suitcase. I then neatly stacked them into my five seater honda jazz, turned up "On My Way" by Rusted Root to full volume and I drove home in record time.

I'm sitting at the kitchen table having just consumed six cookies and a savoury muffin pondering quite how I did it. My bedroom was atrocious looking yesterday when I woke up. My bedroom was immaculate when I handed in my keys today.

It was so messy. So complex. There were so many different areas that needed tending to. I started in the righthand corner, only to pack it all up and feel as though I'd done less than make a dent. Even so, I decided to push through. So corner by corner, lush product by lush product, trouser to t-shirt, I boxed a years worth of my life. I'd avoided it so long that I had to face a giant pile of things I didn't know how to, so with sufficient tears and little grace I did so. But the point is I did. And I'm here, I made it home. I'm sitting at the kitchen table having just consumed six cookies and a savoury muffin realising quite how we should do things.

Take it corner by corner, step by step and know that it's not supposed to be easy. Know that the things that define us never are. But know that you'll get there. Maybe your righthand corner has exhausted you and you still feel as though you've got forever to go before you get to okay, but let me assure you you'll get there. Have the courage to face things and to place them appropriately. To take, or to leave behind. Pack up properly.

Lesson 161. All it takes is a touch.

We were sitting in Starbucks when I felt something I'd never felt before.

I'm not talking about the heart-skips-a-beat-jumping-fences-kissing-the-skies kind of stuff. Yuckity yuck yuck, thank you kindly but absolutely no thank you good sir, I'll be leaving that until I'm middle aged and at least slightly emotionally equipped for it.

I'm talking about something that my fingertips had never met before. The feeling of a baby doing a little dance in his mama's belly when sensing the need for a wee party trick.

I cried. Right there in the Starbucks with my hand on my best friend's belly. My throat suddenly had kermit living in it and my eyes got all watery and the corners of my mouth were pinned to my cheekbones. Every single experience I've had watching this new life form has been a game changer but there's something about physical feeling.

There's something about touch, about physically knowing something and not just mentally processing. It got me thinking about how much hope a simple flutter can bring. A hand on your back or quietly slipped into yours, a head resting on your shoulder, a hug, a kiss, a baby moving under your palm for the very first time.

Reach out. Bring hope. Be the flutter. The reminder that life is beautiful and that it's really right in front of you. Be a physical reminder for someone today that there is so much happiness and light to be found in a world so seemingly riddled with woes and sorrows. All it takes is a touch. 

Lesson 160. Be happy you're here.

I passed first year of University, if that isn't a silver lining then I don't know what is.

The cloud is change, the cloud is life's erratic weather patterns, the cloud was university.

The silver lining is growth, learning to love each and every season, the silver lining is passing, being better and stronger than before. If making it out of any sort of madness alive isn't a something to celebrate then I don't know what is.

Congratulations, you're breathing. You woke up this morning. You're lucky enough to have made it through the night so start smiling about it. Note your smallest of victories and rejoice in them.  I'm so happy you're still here. Be happy you're here.

Lesson 159. Kiss your little pinky.

Have we ever discussed my righthand pinky finger before? I don't believe so.

It's rather ugly. Kind of mangled. Sort of  hookish. Has two knuckles.

It blame physical education for it. I wasn't even properly partaking (I never really did) and it evolved into a rather disastrous occasion. I was just minding my own business, contemplating lunch and why toast always seems slightly browner on one side when I fell over my own foot. Everyone started laughing, there goes Lydia falling over without reason. Then everyone stopped laughing, up I stood with the top half of my pinky pointing in a direction pinkies should never point, to the side.

I hid it behind my back and darted for the office. Sonya the irritatingly calm office lady asked me if she could see so I covered my eyes and proceeded to shove my unsightly extremity in her line of vision. She quickly sent me to the health nurse. The health nurse told me I'd be fine. She then sent me to my mother. My Mother assured me I would not be. She ordered x-rays for the next morning and before I knew it I was headed for surgery on what Dr. Galley (Or as I like to call him, Butcher face) would later tell me was the most unforgiving joint in my body. He popped some metal in it. I had hand therapy for 9 months with the most wonderful hand therapist (who's wedding I attended and promptly was one of the first to be informed that she was with child.) and then another surgery and then was informed "Sorry, the joint is completely deformed. The next step would be amputation as you're going to get severe early onset arthritis"

I managed to break my finger in three places and rotate my bone, cost the government several thousand dollars and cry in front of numerous doctors over what would seem like spilt milk.

We're going somewhere with this-trust me.

My point is this. Well actually, several points could be extracted.

1. Don't contemplate life's most harrowing questions (When lightning strikes the ocean, why don't all the fish die? Why is toast slightly browner on one side? etc etc.) during a PE lesson
2. Don't go to said PE lesson. It'll only end in tears. People who jog and enjoy it are never going to be on the same wavelength as someone who considers their lunch half the day and dinner the other half.
3. Sometimes the things that break and get complicated and hurt and require multiple minor surgeries are the things the make us who we are. I'm never without a fact when it comes to those awkward meeting people and saying something strange games you play. I'm never without conversation and I pride myself on being able to make other feel comfortable when they see quite how ridiculous I am.

The things that make us cry in front of doctors make us who we are in the long term. We're make up of our baby sized tragedies turning to victories. Whether it's a healing of a wound or simply overcoming and accepting, it's something to be celebrated. Your scars remind you of who you are, learn to love them because who you are is rather breathtaking if I say so myself. Kiss your little pinky.

Lesson 158. Soundtracking makes everything better.

I told myself I wouldn't blog until my big final recital was done and dusted- and here we are. It's 11.43pm and I'm well equipped with brownie and anecdotes to complete two daily conversations with you.

There were three in the bed tonight. My two flatmates came into my room and thought it would be hilarious to hide under my covers. After discovering two eighteen year old girls behaving like six year olds with a secret, I joined them.

We then went through my iTunes and discussed appropriate songs for appropriate moments in life.

Soundtracking makes everything one hundred percent better. Even heartache can be found more bearable when the background is Michael Buble's 'Haven't met you yet'

I think it made me realise that the seasons give us all sorts of reasons to listen to all sorts of songs. And they're songs that should be listened to and loved. Just like each season should be listened to and loved. We have to embrace all of life's curved balls and learn that they're each striking in their own right.

So listen to the songs. Embrace every moment with full volume. Don't just sit and let life happen. Play music in every scene to follow the rhythm of your heart and feel what you need to feel.

Soundtracking makes everything better.