Happy times.

So I had today off. I met up with Ana and Rob downtown, I was an hour late, but they didn't seem all that surprised. We had coffee. It was happy times, and no strings attached to the happiness either. That's out of the ordinary for me.

Sometimes it just clicks into place and you settle into it and things just makes sense for the moment and there's no anxiety, no drama, just light conversation, inappropriate jokes at the appropriate places and you're just laughing like the world isn't weighing down your shoulders at all and maybe never did.

It's amazing the connections you make in life and what stays with you and the people who stick around for the long run and those who just sort of fall away along the way. Sometimes I can't help but to wonder if it's all random, but I guess it really doesn't matter. It's life right. You just have to go along with it and let it take you places.

Like I was telling Rob after we'd walked Ana to her bus, as much as I had being in limbo, I always seem to land there, it's like this particularly annoying airport where I'm stuck waiting for my connecting flight, snf I know things will work out in the end, they always do, it's just getting there that's Hell. But I guess that's the price you pay for taking the scenic route in life.

"No reward without sacrifice", Rob said. It was one of those rare moments when he's actually managing to be serious.

Other things: I've semi-started on another screenplay, it's a psychological thriller, the working title is "Flesh and blood".

I think I'm also experiencing some warped form of post-traumatic stress after my New Year's Eve heartbreak in that I am compulsive listening to sappy music recently, like "Lady in red", or "Love hurts" or Roxette's "Must have been love" -- and I realize that revealing this fact will do major damage to my reputation, but the first step to recovery is admitting that you have a problem so, Hello. My name is Ida. And I'm a Romantic.

Now onto the second step: Iron Maiden.

'tis the season to be anxious

So on Saturday I was feeling somewhat down, not exactly suicidal, but very Eeyore-eque, like everything is hopeless and there's no point to your existens and all that stuff. Not an alltogether nice feeling, as you can imagine.

On Sunday the world flipped over and I was upside-down for most of the night and bouncing between the walls, not literally, but almost. Not necessarily in a manic fashion, just very very uncalm, I suppose. I also started fretting about the fact that I wasn't feeling tired at all and that I wouldn't be getting any sleep and I had work in the morning, so long story short, when I found a little packet with six Tylenol cold pills I figured they would knock me out. Did they? No, no. They made me whoosy, and made me throw up in the middle of the night, and then toss and turn in cold sweat for the rest of the morning. I got up in time for work but couldn't shower properly because I got lightheaded and shaky, and the cold sweat and dizziness washed over me again, and... well, Ana and Cesar gave me hell for it later in the evening when I told them, making it sound like I'd tried to overdose or something which is preposterous because they were bloody Tylenols, but anyway... I realize it was stupid all the same and I mustn't have been thinking completely straight at the time, so I'm just writing it off as one of my antiques whilst being crazy.

Today is Monday and I've spent the entire morning writing lists which tells me that I am very anxious, but that's alright because I have to go to work now and who has time for anxiety when there are t-shirts to be folded? Later.