Lesson 152. Every single day should be your airport.

I often wonder how many litres of tears fall to the ground each day in airports.

It seems to me that the airport is a pivotal place in our lives. It's never visited without purpose, without joy, without sorrow. It watches the vast array of emotions in human beings saying hello and goodbye. It witnesses countless arms being wrapped around in love and endless kisses of excitement and heartache.

If the airport could talk, I think it'd tell us not to wait 'til the airport.

Instead, to live with purpose, to feel deep joy and learn how to deal with great sorrow. To make it count before you get in the car to go. Stop waiting, please stop waiting. Stop telling yourself you'll appreciate the ones you love when the time comes, the time is now. I know I've rambled on about this before but today as I walked away from my incredible sister, it became so evident to me. Every single day should be your airport.

Lesson 151. She loves you in her own funny way.

My eldest elf of a sister still makes me hold her hand when we cross the road. We fight on a semi regular basis and butt heads on all things emotional. She's the kind of woman I'd like to grow into.

She's leaving for Durham on Saturday. She's getting on a big ol' plane and leaving the country. She's leaving behind her family, stability, her boyfriend, her job, because she's a brave lass with a heart that has never been enclosed or restricted by relationship nor a sense of safety. I admire her immensely and love her even more for her feeling of freedom and fight against mediocrity.

Like I say, she's still intent on holding my hand when I cross the road. If my elbows are even close to touching down on the table I'll know about it within seconds. And if I make any mildly inappropriate comments I will be immediately shipped back into shape. My sister has always wanted the best for me and although she doesn't show it or say it in such words, I look back on her intricate and mostly irritating instructions with a fondness. I know that she does what she does and says what she says because she loves me, and she's looking out for me.

We had coffee yesterday. It was such a special time. I was reminded of our similarities, mostly the way our heads both go slightly forward when we laugh and the way we over think every situation present in our lives. I suddenly realised just how close I hold Katie to my heart as a sister and a friend. I'm going to miss her a lot, but her leaving has made me realise that the things I battle with her are also the things I love the most. It's a silver lining if ever I saw one.

We all have one of those right. An older family member or friend that puts on the mother goose hat majority of the time. And it's easy to only fight with them instead of recognising what's going on, So don't let it take your big sister skipping the country to make you remember that everyone says I love you in different ways. Whether it's making you hold your hand while you cross the street or sending gushy texts or bringing you flowers when you're ill in bed. She loves you in her own funny way.

Lesson 151. Be the wild wind of change.

The wind is wild outside my window.

Not a gentle rain and wind duo to lull any lonely heart to sweet sleepy surrender. No no, none of that. An angry wind. A wind relentless to the window although it will most likely never see the other side.

I want to be like the wild wind. Although it hardly paints a picturesque delicate scene, it paints one of passion and a raw sense of justice. I think sometimes the most breathtaking of life's blessings are the ones that are abrupt, that are real and raw. It lets out an undeniable battle cry that lets the world know that even though the odds are against it, it will stay by window and sigh with all the force nature instilled in it until I listen up.

Be relentless in your battles for what you believe in. Don't be a quiet wind, a lull in the background easily missed, no no, be the wind that stops the sleep. That awakens those lost in shallow dreams. Be the wild wind of change.

Lesson 150. Listen to yourself.

I'm a classic advice giver. I nod, I smile, tender caress of (insert name here's) arm and tell them that all will be good and well again if they just realise their potential and purpose.

I'm a classic advice ignorer. I nod, I smile, touch (insert name here's) hand on my arm and tell them thank you for shedding light on the topic I've discussed a thousand times over with various bearers of wisdom who seem to tell me the same story, and then I pay for their coffee.

Okay, so it's not deliberate and it's not quite as rude or as obnoxious as I've made it sound. You're guilty too though aren't you chum?

I was having coffee today with a friend and I had to stop myself. We'd both been feeling the same way about our course at University and had discussed with various other friends how we'd been feeling and we're all kind of in the same boat. I was mid sentence exclaiming just how ridiculous these incredibly talented people were for second guessing themselves and they all have different strengths and comparisons just aren't relevant, etc. etc. when my shoulders hunched slightly forwards as if to prompt a little shame. I constantly compare myself to those same people and envy each and every one's strength.

How often do I do that? Probably more times than I can count on my hand. I'll spell off my spiel relatively numbly and go on my merry way.

I'm going to start listening to myself. Save a little time crying, be a little better off. Listen to yourself

Lesson 149. Hold on, we're gonna get through it.

It's safe to say that you and I both are wondering when I'm going to get back on the regular blogging bandwagon. Although playing hard to get has always been my specialty, I do believe that in this instance I've been relatively impossible to get, rather than just teasing you and eventually surrendering to the inevitable-that I would once again be yours like someone who plays the game well would.

I pondered for a moment. I realised that maybe I'm just waiting 'til I feel like I've got the strength to pull wisdom out of these dreary days. Maybe I'm just waiting 'til I've got it together and can pull of a perfectly straight smile without a hint of discontentment or disillusionment. And then I realised that that idea in itself would defeat the purpose of this blog, wouldn't it? I'm far from perfect, I'm overly human. I have my days on top of the world and I have my days on the bottom. I have my moments of indescribable joy and I know the sound of silence and his best friend loneliness. The point of this blog was never to ignore or iron out all the kinks and eliminate all downfalls of this mad ride, the point of the blog was to sightsee, to scream, and to smile together.

I'm a messy creature. Literally and figuratively. It's midnight and I'm sitting on my floor surrounded by clothing and papers that I have no intention of cleaning up in the near future. I have assignments to begin and chores to complete yet I sit, typing to some strangers on the internet. I'm a strange and messy creature but I'm learning to love myself for it.

It's okay that you have bad days. It's more than okay and it's ever so normal to feel alone sometimes. It's even better to be honest.

We're flawed. We're messy. We're broken but we're beautiful. We're made with the strength to stand up again. Our eyes are called to see past our imperfections and believe that what we've been given is unique to only us. It's a wonderful thing to be alive, and it's a wonderful thing to have the chance to change. It's a wonderful thing to realise just how messy and spectacular you are.

The beauty so often lies within what happens when we feel as though we're going nowhere. The beauty is the moment we overcome. It's not always what is immediately given but what we're taught by the hardest seasons that makes us quite so incredible.

So this is take two, welcome back, and in the words of my pal Olly Murs, Hold on, we're gonna get through it.

Lesson 148. Pay for someone else's coffee.

It's a simple pleasure. One you should indulge in more. 

Pay for someone else's coffee. 

Lesson 147. Don't point the hypercondriac finger.

I'm not a hypercondriac, said the hypercondriac, right?

But seriously, I'm not. Although I'm pretty sure that majority of the people in my life (excluding my mother, my sister and my flatmates) think that I am. It's what comes with being ill a lot. I've been in bed with belly bugs at least 4 times in counting this year and it's been rather wretched.

Here's what I've learnt from multiple hours staring at the ceiling muttering God take me now in a melodramatic manner (because if he had I wouldn't have been overly impressed on my arrival)

Being sick is not a barrel of laughs. Take it from captain fun times, it's less than enjoyable. Although, I've learnt that sometimes when you're sick, quite magical things can come out of the woodwork. You can realise the depth of someones care for you. For example, my friend Jasmine made me do a little sleepy weep of joy when she dropped off some soup, a teddy called George, and some powerade. My sister Annie brought flowers and sent a link to free download of an excellent album to soothe my feverish head (believe me, it did) and I was awakened to just how precious those things are to me. I learnt that all it takes to feel a little better is someone sitting beside you and saying 'This sucks, I'm here."

Acknowledging that someone is facing trials is like propping up their shoulder, it's telling them that you see what they're fighting and you're fighting too. Don't point the hypercondriac finger.