There are a lot of things I dislike about airports, and they mostly oscillate around the concept of waiting.  

Waiting to drop off a bunch of heavy, cumbersome baggage that’s been grazing against your palms for hours during the preliminary parts of the journey. Waiting for your plastic tray of personal gear to catch up with you when passing through security. Waiting for the relevant gate to be listed on those otherwise clinical-looking departure boards.   Waiting for the attendant to call out your designated seating area so that you can finally board the only thing you came here for. Waiting to take off.  Waiting for the in-flight pretzels. Waiting for the air hostesses to finish pushing their trolleys to the other end of the aisle so you can finally get to the loo and relieve yourself of the complimentary Pinot Grigio and one too many coffees.  Waiting for landing. Waiting to wait through whatever processes come on the other side…

…But then there are also a lot of things I love about airports, and I’m not just talking about the inevitable excitement that comes from taking a holiday abroad.

I like airports because, to me, they compress the concept of globalisation into one single premise and make you feel like a citizen of the world, rather than of a single town or country.  Every day, any international airport will press its fingertips against those of multiple others, connecting countries that may otherwise feel much more distant; and that alone produces an emotional intensity so easily felt within the confines of the terminal.

For starters, airports surpass any time zone.  You might arrive into London at 3am, and in the cold, fresh light of the Big Smoke, Wetherspoons and Nandos may have firmly shut their doors for the night, but at the likes of LGW you are more than welcome to order yourself a bunch of chicken wings or a half pint of lager and act like the day is still young.  To one of the planes currently making its way into the airport, it’s still the middle of the afternoon right now.  If somewhere in the world lives, then so does the airport, no matter what its coordinates.

Then there’s the fact that an international airport amasses the smallest of spaces into which people from all over the globe may enter.  Take London Heathrow, for example.  The airport itself takes up a space of only 8 miles squared, yet it’s the predominant server of an island which is 93,627 square miles squared.  That’s 0.008 percent of the UK’s land that acts as the most major gateway for the rest of the world who wish to enter it.  This essentially means that within that small, tiny space that may otherwise cause so much frustration due to the extent of waiting, you’re also experiencing the wonder of dancing around in that narrow stem of a much wider funnel; a stem that enables familiarity, and camaraderie, with people from a wider range of cultures and customs.  No matter your native tongue or culture, you can all share a mutual frustration when take-off is delayed, or gasp in unison should the jet traverse through a rocky turbulence that takes you all by surprise.

I also like the fact that when you sit and eat dinner at an airport, your neighbouring diners are making plans that involve up to 200 different countries.  The couple next door are looking up Amsterdam hotels on TripAdvisor whilst the guy behind you speaks in Arabic on a video call.  A small, fractious child runs between the tables clutching onto a Spanish storybook, shouting words you don’t understand, at her parents.  Aussie backpackers congregate around a set of USB ports and upload the latest in their photos of a round-the-world trip to Facebook.  You may be sat considering your own trip, your own nearest and dearest… your day job… your life admin… but yet you, too, are one of those strangers that represent your own small corner of the globe, no matter how obscure it seems against those listed on the A-List departure boards that surround you.

The most interesting parts of the World are those we don’t necessarily see when flicking through guidebooks or browsing the internet.  It’s not about the perfected images of the biggest skyscrapers, the most prosperous cities, or the luxury islands.  Instead, it’s about the lights on at 11pm in the bedroom windows of suburban street houses, the rubbish spilling over the tops of dustbins, the queues at the supermarket checkouts, and the excited teenagers trying on mascara in the shopping malls.  It’s about the activity that takes place behind – or beneath – the picture perfect imagery… and the airport encapsulates all of the above, and more.

I’ve yet to focus on the most notable bit.  The bit that truly pulsates through my veins when I’m hanging around at an airport.  That is, the raw emotion of those hellos and goodbyes that reverberate around airport halls in a wide range of vernaculars. Statements like “I love you” , “I’ll miss you” animatedly expressed in every language within just eight square miles of a single country.

A billion stories behind every statement.

A billion stories that found their way into that narrow stem of global symbolism.

A billion stories being narrated in front of the entire world.

Or so it seems.

So it feels.

This is airport romance.  And any passenger can access it.

Song of the Day:  Deer Tick – Card House  

One of the newest country-rock offerings from Rhode Island band, Deer Tick.  This isn’t normally the kind of music I listen to but there’s something really endearing and addictive about this song.  In addition the new album(s) include several pieces of music that have blown me away, including Pulse, Me and My Man, and End of the World.  Highly recommended.

 

 

You may want to grab yourself a cuppa for this one.  Or a glass of wine.  Or a fag. Whatever floats your boat…

I’m making the title as blunt as the post itself for a reason, and I realise that this is probably going to sound incredibly grim, but one concept that is never too far away from my awareness, is death.

More specifically, I’m aware of the constant, underlying fear I have of it getting the better of my loved ones.  Death terrifies me – as it does most people – because not only is bereavement a devastating, drawn-out and crippling process, but it’s also something we can’t predict, time or control.  Uncomfortable though this may be to read, the brutal truth is that any one of us, or the people we care about, could suddenly die any day, irrespective of age or any existing medical condition.  We all know that; we just try not to think about it.  Quite rightfully, we just want to enjoy our lives as much as we can by focusing on more positive things.

This post has been brought on by the fact that the other night my seventy year old father had a pretty terrifying health scare that prompted an ambulance being called out to us at 11pm on a Sunday evening.  During a tense and difficult wait for help to arrive there were moments when – in hindsight, probably just fearing the worst through panic – I became convinced that dad could be about to leave us for good.  Concussed, confused and covered in blood, an usually extremely intelligent man could no longer tell us what year it was, or who was Prime Minister, and was generally just coming out with mysterious statements that made no sense.  He certainly wasn’t in the frame of mind to do one of his Killer SuDokus (and broadcast its successful completion to all and sundry) or engage in a silly debate with me about local politics.  He was suddenly a stranger.

Thankfully, Dad is absolutely okay now, but seeing him lying down in the back of the vehicle in his dressing gown, the fragility of life gave me a big slap round the face and I remembered – again – the vulnerability we all face without exception.  Nobody is immune to death; not even the strongest, richest, healthiest people in the world, and it’s something that is going to affect each of us on multiple occasions throughout our lives. And no amount of luck or planning can help you control that.

Whilst all of this may be sounding incredibly depressing (sip the tea, down the wine, suck on the fag) I do actually find – bizarre as it sounds – that an underlying understanding and acknowledgement of death – and more specifically, the fragility of life – actually amasses a huge amount of benefit and enrichment day to day, and this is the point I’m trying to get across here.  So bear with me…!

I’ve never understood the point of trying to run away from things that make us feel uncomfortable, particularly when they’re things we can’t wholly avoid.  Rather than remain fixated on how best to hide from these things, which is a huge effort in itself, I’ve learnt that it’s far better to confront, acknowledge, and then learn how to manage with them.  Death is a classic example of something we often have a tendency to try and hide from; in fact it wouldn’t surprise me if some people started to read this post but looked away after the first sentence, perhaps dismissing this as too grim to continue with.  I can understand that; life is short and we don’t want to spend it thinking about negative things, but I also think that kind of habitual avoidance can be dangerous in the long run.

To me, an underlying awareness of mortality keeps our values in check and our perspectives balanced.  It really shouldn’t take things like a terrorist attack or natural disaster to be thankful for life, and I cringe every time I hear anybody say anything along the lines of, “well this puts things into perspective”.  We all do it from time to time, in fact in my previous post you’ll see a recent example of when I did this myself.  Likewise, when there was a recent terrorist attack in London, I found myself messaging city-based friends, including some I hadn’t spoken to in a long time, to check on their welfare, and it really shouldn’t have taken something like that to get in contact.  This, and similar situations over the years, have encouraged me to ensure that I make an effort with the people I care about; to take a moment every once in a while to think about those I haven’t had much recent contact with and send them a message.  We should never allow people we care about to simply become strangers, and I like to think that my own acknowledgement of death and the fragility of life, which has increased in recent years, has lead to me becoming somebody who (or so I’d like to think) puts more effort in now than in years gone by.  I used to be pretty damn shit at it to be honest, and I wouldn’t say I’m perfect now, but definitely improved…

I have also come to find that the fear of death helps me to rationalise events around me and ensure that I’m not giving too much time and energy to the things that don’t really matter in the long run.  We’re all emotional beings who experience a myriad of thoughts and feelings within as few as sixty seconds let alone longer; and they don’t necessarily always make sense.  We’re naturally impulsive and not always going to think or do the ‘right’ things (or in other words, the things that we believe to be so).  We can get irritated, frustrated, or allow silly things to make us say or do ‘things’ we may later regret.  And that’s okay (and don’t let anybody try and tell you it isn’t, because likelihood is that if they do they’re a robot / made from silicon / don’t really exist) but having said that, it’s also essential to try and take the time to acknowledge these ‘things’ and re-consider their importance in the grand scheme of things.

When you get to the stage that you’re lying on your deathbed, whenever that may fall, are you really going to care about the fact that the train was late on the 12th April, 2012? Probably not.  But that doesn’t take away the fact you spent half an hour of precious time that could’ve been spent more positively that day, on bitching about the situation to friends via SMS, stabbing the phone furiously when you could have been looking out the window at the hills rolling by.  What about that comment somebody made in 2007 which you felt was a bit rude – are you going to spend any more time neurotically ruminating on it as you did back then?  And… if you find yourself watching a loved one floating up an aisle in a wooden box are you really going to be thinking about that time in 2010 when they didn’t contribute their share for the taxi, that you spent most of the next day moaning about? Of course not; but you might kick yourself for your lack of perspective that contributed to these reactions, which in turn took time away from the more positive things which were there in the background at the time.

Treating everybody as though you may never see them again sounds terribly grim, and is clearly not an outcome you want to fixate over too much, but if it’s going to add even more quality or encourage you to really make the most of your time with somebody then – regardless of whether you’ve many more years together – surely that’s a good thing?

I certainly think so, and that’s why death, and the fragility of life, will never be too far from mind.

(Phew. You made it to the end of the post.  Finish that cuppa, think of something beautiful, and just smile.)

Song of the Day:  Phoenix – Fior di Latte

This is a new song from French synth-poppers Phoenix and it’s incredibly sexy.  I have probably listened to it about twenty times every day for the past week.  At least.  So it’s more than eligible for Song of the Day.  THAT bassline…

Rapping my knuckles impatiently against the steering wheel, I start to hate the sight of the car in front of me.

I’ve been staring at its rear for far too long, and quite frankly, it’s just getting annoying. Multiple internal ‘grrr!’s ensue about the very fact that the car exists, and is seemingly just getting in my way.

What was supposed to be a thirty minute drive home has turned into a journey of much more epic proportions, or so it feels.  I feel like I could have reached the furthest flung corners of Abu Dhabi since I left the office, because for reasons currently unknown, the usual free-flowing gateway to home – a major local A road – has turned into a stagnant mass of four-wheeled, metallic bugs which my overdosed-on-caffeine bladder struggles to tolerate.

I am becoming increasingly more irritable.  Expletives buzz round my head at a whirlwind pace:

“This f****** f*** of a f****** road is going to make me late for the gym”

“I’m so f****** desperate for a f****** p***”

My thermos of coffee has depreciated to an underwhelming tepid temperature due to the delay, and I had to turn the audio volume down right in the midst of my enthusiastic Sinitta sing-a-long because such an act no longer suited the tempo of the traffic.

“She told me a secret! I promised that I’d ——“

Oh hold up for a moment, Sinitta! I need to perform an exceptionally ominous brake right now.

Auto-pilot steps in and emphasises the unfortunate fact that this mind-numbing wait is not conducive to my evening plans.  I recall the details of a sneaky back-road and perform an irritable ten-thousand-point turn in the middle of the road in order to turn back on myself to access it, indubitably confusing the heck out of Mr. Large Grey Nissan behind me.

As I find myself manoeuvring extremely slowly down a narrow country lane, I realise that I’m far from alone in conducting this master plan.  I count the cars ahead and consequently stare at them for the best part of an hour, ultimately concluding how much my wondrous sneaky-beaky has failed.  On the dashboard I watch the minutes roll by.  One turns into ten almost as swiftly as it turns into twenty, and this is just turning into a massive joke.

And then I see it, beneath this bridge.

The motionless vehicles sprawled inordinately across the motorway lanes.

The emergency helicopter making a perfect landing.

The blue lights flashing manically, emergency services staff  visibly working tirelessly to retain a resolute face and keep an horrendous situation in a state of somewhat check.

I see the stranger with their head in their hands sat helplessly by the side of a major English vein which, right now, lays dry, apart from the spread of personal items and mangled metal strewn across the tarmac for somebody to have to clear later.  How the Hell can I take in the magnitude of the impact of what’s just happened to you?  I can’t.

The rapping against the steering wheel stops.  The internal expletives slapped into silence.

I suddenly feel incredibly privileged and incredibly stupid.

I’m grateful I’m still heading home…

Song of the Day:  Deerhoof – I Will Spite Survive

Deerhoof are an understated San Francisco indie band who have been churning out classic tracks for over twenty years to an unobtrusive yet loyal audience.  This is one of their newest songs, and it’s spine-chillingly powerful.  Listen.

 

On a personal level it’s been an extremely busy and pretty significant few weeks.  As result there are several new posts in ‘draft’ mode that require more time than I currently have to bring them to something which I consider to be a conclusion that does them justice.

And with this comes confirmation of the importance of something which I call, ‘Spirit Time’.

Spirit Time is all about keeping in tune with ourselves and the things which we hold dear, which more often than not are the people we love (in any sense of the word), the issues we care about, the hobbies we enjoy, and developing and retaining the self-awareness that helps us navigate our ways through anything this crazy world may then proceed to throw at us.

Regular Spirit Time is extremely important; but too often we allow other things to take priority.  Increasing responsibilities in advancing adulthood mean we don’t always get a choice in the matter, nor do we always notice that when we’re so preoccupied with working our way through life’s To-Do list, we’re not really taking the time to understand what’s going on – or has gone on –  around us.  Often it’s more tempting just to cross off that final item of the day – like preparing tomorrow’s lunch or completing an online bank transaction – and go to bed without any further thought about anything.

As somebody who as result of recent change is currently floating around in the nomadic space between the comfort zones that only come with achieving familiarity with one’s new surroundings I am again remembering why regular Spirit Time is so important. Change is an important and necessary part of life, but it can also feel very strange to start with, and ensuring that we find time to devote to the things which consistently simmer our souls can hold even more value than usual during this period.

The nature of Spirit Time varies with individual need and interest, but ultimately it’s about keeping priorities in check and continuing to understand and remember one’s passions and purposes in the face of whatever mad concoction of events that may happen from day to day.  Spirit Time may take the guise of a coffee with a friend, a walk in the woods, or looking through old family photographs.  This blog forms some of my own Spirit Time, for example.

Whatever you choose to do with it, it’s important to make time to spend it.

How do you spend your Spirit Time?

                                       Photo from a recent walk in Kings Wood.

Song of the Day:  The Frights – Tungs

Just a nice, chirpy piece of American ‘let’s jump in the car, wind the windows down, and drive to the pool‘ surf-punk.  Impossible to dislike.

I wanted to drive to the coast and I needed to be by the coast.   Reeling from a heavy cold and a couple of recent hard-hitting bits of negative news, I just wanted to be alone and clear my head for an hour or so, just the way us introverts like to do, and the sea air was the only thing I felt could fulfill that purpose here on this random Sunday night in March.

The sea at night is a bit like a secret party, one to which only you are invited, full of mysterious activity and wonder.  The whistling winds swirl in and out and along the tides of ear canals as seagulls squeak out at sea, still flying in their flocks, accustomed to a routine which only they know.

And on the horizon, some kind of vessel, probably a cargo ship, oozes by slowly.  You only know it’s there from the flashing red lights which, I assume, are its way of navigating through these seas.  I think about the people on that ship right now, hard-working labourers no doubt, who are probably looking at their watches and thinking about their families on the mainland tucking into bed.  Or maybe they’re just striving to connect to the Wi-Fi from a yellowing, intermittent dongle in order to resume their game of Candy Crush.   Or perhaps, pouring themselves oily instant coffee into a chipped mug and scrabbling around a battered biscuit tin for the last remaining Hobnob.  Who really knows.

My thoughts then turn to the cargo itself; what are the contents of those containers that are probably aboard, and will they one day eventuate into flotsam on a beach on the other side of the world, to be discovered by excited local children?  Just like the residents of Cornwall, who recently found pieces of Lego swept ashore from when a rogue wave had interfered with a vessel taking the toy from Rotterdam to New York in the late 1990’s.  I conclude, with no real rationale at all, that the containers on the vessel ahead of me host boxes of toothbrushes, and imagine an excited little Scandinavian child lifting one from the banks of a remote islet off the coast of Bergen, Norway, in the year 2026.

The distant ship then conjures thoughts of recent news articles which described how thirty years ago, just under two hundred people were killed when a popular passenger vessel capsized on its way back to Kent from the continent.  A crew-member of the Herald of Free Enterprise had made a huge yet human mistake and left a door open allowing water through.  As a family we had sailed with Townsend Thoresen many times, much like our relatives and neighbours had too.  My sole recollection had been picking up an M&M off the floor which my mother had swiftly snatched from me in fear that it was something more sinister than that.  News of the disaster hadn’t seemed real the first time I was old enough to comprehend it, and it certainly didn’t seem any more real now.  I look out over the mass of black water not a million miles from where the tragedy had taken place, and pay thought to the excessive number of those who perished upon their return from an innocent continental break on that night.  Life is so cruel at times.

On a well-timed brighter note, literally so, I spot the offshore Vattenfall wind-farms flicker red in the distance.  For a moment I am transported back to August 2014 when a friend of mine, Michelle,  who lived in Canterbury for a short period, joined us for a picnic here on Tankerton beach.  She had a friend who wanted to join us a little later into the afternoon, and strenuously tried to help her navigate her way over the phone, “You see those wind farms out in the distance?  We’re sat in the bay that’s directly opposite those.”

It’s a quote we laugh about anytime we’re driving along the Kent coast… because from Whitstable down to Thanet (16 miles)….those wind-farms, which stand some way out from the shore, always seem “directly opposite”!  Quite how Michelle managed to successfully guide her veterinarian friend to the exact groynes between which we were eating our lunch using that piece of advice, we’ll never quite know, but we’ll always be amused.

Then there’s the beach huts below.  We used to own one of those, a gift from my grandfather,  before vandals tore it apart for what was the last time my parents would stand for.  Many happy Summers had been spent sat inside that wooden solitude, eating fresh rotisserie chicken from the nearest corner shop (now popular fish-restaurant Jo-Jos), and dipping into the sea on boiling August afternoons.  I’d brought numerous school friends down to visit “the beach hut” , and how nice it had been in comparison to the suburban Greater London life we were otherwise used to.  Watford was a great place to grow up, but it didn’t have a beach, and that was the problem.  That was what used to make the journey home along a soulless and grey M25 reminiscent of the morning’s first opening of the eyes, prompting the sudden cessation to a dream.

The call of nature aroused me mid-daydream.  Or mid-sea-at-night-dream.  A day’s worth of coffee is difficult to contest even though I could’ve quite happily stayed outside, looking at the twinkling compressed freckles of gold in the distance denoting the next town, and wondering about the life going on beneath them.  I went into the nearest pub I could find and ordered a cup of tea, and then got my notebook out and started writing this against the backdrop of a middle-aged trio at the next table talking about Shepherds Pie.  Of all things.

I’m glad I live near to the sea.

Song of the Day: Lacrosse – Don’t Be Scared

This is a beautiful song from a beautiful Swedish band.

 

 

Ten easy habits to develop that will have a positive impact on yourself.  A good way to begin a New Year.  Make 2017 yours.

1) Drink a glass of water

Whilst it’s often dismissed as being a “boring” choice of beverage and thus one that probably isn’t consumed enough (let’s face it, who goes to a restaurant and orders a glass of water without feeling entirely awkward about it), it’s common knowledge that drinking more water increases your energy, settles your emotions and helps with weight loss.  As well as many other benefits.

Imagine it as a spring-clean for your soul, and try and get into the routine of ‘washing yourself’ multiple times a day to the point where – much like brushing your teeth – it becomes a habit that feels uneasy if you skip it.

If you are reading this post, then I am going to ask that you get up and pour yourself a glass of water right now, and drink it.  Just do it, no excuses or unnecessary delays, and no giving in to the temptation of ‘more interesting’ things like Rooibos tea or anything else, particularly those that are brown in colour.

I’m certainly going to help myself to a glass of water right after I type this full-stop (.)

2) Send a message to a friend you’ve not spoken to in a while

See what’s new with them.  Find out how they’re feeling.  Perhaps it may turn out that you both have a plan to travel to a similar place in the not too distant future, and can arrange to meet.  If the friend lives nearby, arrange to go for a coffee.  Just talk.  Listen.  Re-engage.  Don’t let the ever-increasing velocity of time, or distance, swallow up a valued friend.  Add another chapter to your friendship by creating new memories together.

3) Read a book

What I like about books, is that they are escapism without the materialism; an escapism that you yourself have more control over.  No overpaid actors and actresses who have already played a billion roles before. No superfluous special effects and stupid noises.  Just some words, passionately pulled together by a writer, probably underneath the warm glow of a battered old desk-lamp and a plate of Rich Tea biscuits in a study that smells of dust and sweat.  That writer put their heart and soul into those words for you to enjoy.

Those words: just some words that you can interpret whichever way you want.  Characters who can be whoever you want them to be.  Settings that can look like the kind of places you may have always wanted to visit.  New words, like “recumbent”, that instantly roll off the tongue and then permanently fill a vacancy in your internal thesaurus.

Just five minutes of reading a day can have a beautiful impact.

4) Identify the people that make you feel negative, and crop them out like a Photoshop image

I know it’s not always possible, but a lot of the time it is.  Friendship is one of the most beautiful things about life, but unfortunately quantity will not always equate to quality.
In recent years I have truly realised how much I am done with expending my energies on people who seem to have a different face for each day of the week, or whose favourite topic of conversation is other people and their faults.  That kind of company doesn’t make anybody feel great, and doubtless if they’re being unkind about others, they’re probably being unkind about you, too, and that’s an anxiety and disservice to yourself you really don’t need.

Leave people like that to learn from their own mistakes and make sure that your time is spent only on people who are true.  Those are the only people who really matter, and those are the ones who will make your days positive.

5) Exercise

I write this as somebody who a year or so ago had no interest in exercise and – to be honest – was pretty fed up of people talking about it.  I’m not going to now proclaim to be an expert or a fitness fanatic (although I definitely think I’m heading well towards the latter, who would ever have thought…), but I will just say this:

A body that doesn’t exercise will never know just how much it’s capable of.

6)  Smile at a stranger

A genuine smile at a stranger will create a little lift in each of your days.

That cashier in the supermarket has spent 6.5 hours today scanning things through that till, not just your bag of potatoes-for-roasting and pot of Taramasalata.  An hour ago she had to listen to a customer snapping at her for accidentally giving the incorrect change, an embarrassing instance that took place in full view of the other customers, one of which she knew personally.  Two hours ago, a defunct bag of flour spilled over the conveyor belt, prompting the need of assistance from a grumpy colleague who had rolled into work late with a hangover; the severed smile of Mr Homepride so in-fitting with the atmosphere as she vehemently scrubbed at the rubber, cursing the fifth glass of wine from last night and what she has incorrectly perceived as the cashier’s carelessness.

The cashier has been finding ingrained patches of flour on the fabric of her branded fleece ever since.  Added to that, she’s been asked to do some last minute overtime due to sickness, and has had to cancel her plans for the evening.

But just a smile from a stranger.  It won’t solve everything, but it’s all that’s needed to add a valuable little lift to this day.

7)  Think of your favourite thing to watch as a child, and find it on YouTube

Who we are today is a result of all the days, months and years preceding it.  There’s nothing like a bit of nostalgia to remind you of that, and the combination of sound and imagery can so often instantly conjure up feelings or memories that have been locked away for so long.

When I have a bit of spare time, I love searching for old things on YouTube.  For example, here’s something that may have the above-described effect on anybody who went to Primary School in England in the 1990’s:

I watch this and instantly think of wet Marmite sandwiches from where the bottled water has leaked inside the lunchbox, the scent of HB pencils, and big square television sets contained in wooden cabinets on wheels.  There is something very soothing about this familiarity.

8)  Fit-It-In

What do you need to do?  What do you want to do?  What do you need to do in order to do what you want to do?  How much time do you have?  Write all of this stuff out.  Make lists. Pop the cork on your brain where all of these thoughts fly around manically without a start or finish and put them all down on paper using a pen.  A physical one.

Then pull out a calendar.  A physical one.  Be hands on.  Write down when you need to do all the things you need to do and watch as they develop into you doing not only what you need to do but what you want to do.  And do you know what? Life can be an awkward little shit and maybe on occasion – or maybe on multiple occasions – things won’t work out, but there’s energy to be gained from any forward movement or proactivity.  Just enjoy the ride.

9) Throw Them Boomerangs

Give everything you have.  Try everything you have an opportunity to try.  Go everywhere you have an opportunity to go.  Silence that internal vocal that whimpers, “…there’s always tomorrow” or “I wonder if…” and just do it now.

There’s a popular saying in life that you have to make your own luck by putting in your best efforts, but I don’t believe it’s just about luck.  I think it’s also about experience, and learning.  If you want to experience more and learn more, then you have to do more.

10) Start and finish your day with a song that makes you smile

Music has so much influence on our emotions.  For me personally, when I discover a new song I really like, I obtain so much in the way of new, refreshing energy, and much more so than listening to something that I’ve already heard a million times over.

Similarly, songs that make you smile can put you in the mood to make the most of the day ahead or to sleep soundly overnight.

And with that, I’m finishing this post with my song of the day, a little tune that has had me dancing around at various points this past week.  And if you – the reader – would prefer not to listen and are therefore done with this post, then all I have to say to you is:

Go and have another glass of water.

Song of the Day: Part Time – Honey Lips

Lo-Fi Synth Pop performed by some guy with long hair who wears sunglasses often.  An impossibly difficult artist to Google to ascertain any other information, but a damn tune all the same.  This has been on my MP3 player virtually non-stop for a week.