Welcome to my head, Beethoven

Do you ever have those moments when you think life has just settled into a rhythm and you accept that your life has chosen Chopin as an inspiration (and you don’t mind because Chopin was a genius and he was Polish and you can remind people that “hey Chopin who plays the rhythm of my life has a statue in the Royal Gardens in Warsaw” and that’s not a bad thing for your life-music to have) and then BAM all of a sudden Chopin is replaced by Beethoven and you find yourself teetering on the edges of a crescendo and life picks up a new dimension?

No? Get off the drugs Agnes? Was that one sentence? You’re crazy and an insult to writing and my life doesn’t associate with dead musicians!?

Sorry.

The point is that this weekend was a crescendo of sorts. Not the life-changing bang of thunderbolts, but just enough to leave me acutely aware of how intricate and layered it can be.

But I’ll stop with the loony talk and will recount some of the lessons I learned this weekend:

1. When you make dinner plans with a friend you haven’t seen in several years, make sure that they are dinner plans because otherwise your friend (who thinks you’re just meeting up for a coffee) is going to sit at the opposite end of the table looking slightly petrified as you consume large quantities of food, several tables and all of the cutlery in your vicinity. She may then leave you with a lot of judgemental eyes, judging. 
2. Don’t worry about judgemental judging eyes if they belong to a self-proclaimed alternative girl who converses by shouting her alternative viewpoints over the top of her dining companions with the subtlety of a man-shirt-wearing bulldozer. 
3. If you do encounter such a person, tell her that “Slumdog Millionaire” was a global success and that she isn’t the only person to have seen it. That’s not alternative. Or don’t. Whatever. 
4. An eighteen year old can have 130 friends. Don’t be ashamed to let this blow your mind.
5. There is a limit on how many times you can say “I’m going to move into a cupboard in this house” or “I’m going to make that sofa my permanent residence” or “Do you think my bed will fit in that corner? Because I think it might. It just might” before people start to mentally fill out a restraining order. It doesn’t matter if their new place is your dream place and being apart from it will chip away at your heart. Just stop. Move on with your life (maybe take a couple of sneaky pictures of the floor to help with the withdrawals). 
6. There are a lot of sympathetic people happy to commiserate when you tell them that a friend’s new apartment is your dream place and that you’ve always just lived in shoeboxes and you wouldn’t mind moving into one of her cupboards (Maybe that large one in the living room or that out-of-the-way one in the kitchen). 
7. Remember lesson five.
8. It is funny to observe that a rock at Cremorne Point has a phallic formation. It is not funny to shout out “DICK ROCK” and take lots of pictures just as some innocent couple is walking their innocent dog right behind you. 
9. There is nothing more filling or satisfying or better in the world than spending three hours watching Disney movies with your best friend while pigging out on homemade Indian food. Except maybe playing with pandas. 
10. Although Richard Mercer’s Love Song Dedications is an awesome soundtrack for a night-time journey home, you have to remember that the bastard will stick you with a six-minute MeatLoaf song that you won’t be able to get out of your head for a decade. Damn you Richard, that’s not a love song!