Sod's law

So.  As soon as my time actually becomes considerably less available, everything I wanted falls into place.

I started my Radio Journalism thingymajig at the BBC yesterday.  I am 70% excited, 30% scared.  There's a lot of work to be done.  And whilst half of the course comprises of journalistic development, the other half is editing and production, which I have absolutely no experience in.  I am, of course, really eager and happy to have this opportunity, but I am a bit nervous.  My time is definitely going to more exclusive, as we were informed that the speed with which they teach us and take us to our diploma is one third of the usual length- e.g., a lot squeezed into a small time frame.  SO, bearing this in mind, it would be only right that I should be offered about a dozen jobs off Prospect Solution (the academic consultancy company I freelance for) in the past few days.  SO annoying because I could really use the extra cash.

Time management skills are clearly going to be tested.

Going to the rugby and football this weekend.  Completely a weekend of 2007/2008 for me, I am looking forward to it!

And I Don't Even Mind Being Ill...

I think my body is beginning to give up.  I am so sick at the minute, and have been in a half state of illness for what seems like weeks now.  Everytime my body flirts with the idea of a full recovery, I get whipped into submission again.  Its quite frustrating, and yet, I am disgustingly chipper and loved up at the minute.  Yuck.  I scorn MYSELF!

Narcoleptic Dreams...

....overlap worryingly with reality.  I can't quite believe a lot of today has happened, as I keep passing out in various locations.  I got up really early to scoot N off to work, cleaned like a bastard, but then woke later on my sofa.  Later, I woke up outside CI Rugby club.

Only after about 2 hours farting about Belmont, did I finally wake up, so to speak, in Tescos.  I will be fine for later but for now, I feel distinctly spun out.

I am really happy at the minute.  Deliriously happy, disgustingly happy, illegally happy.  So happy in fact, that I have now surpassed the stage of "I am so happy, bad stuff must be about to happen".  THAT happy.

Swings and roundabouts

Old Man Time is playing with me.  My initial fear about moving back to Belfast was that I would find myself trapped in the same old, same old.  This obviously was noted by the powers that be, the gods of Fate.  And not without a dry swipe of humour as well.

Once again, as was the case 5 years ago, HMV has become somewhat of an organ of social contact for me.  Whilst unintentional, a lot of my friends [still] work there.  Its not quite my heart of social contact, but for it to feature is amusing.  I am back living at home, albeit temporarily with far better prospects, but nonetheless, same as five years ago.  And the cherry on the cake is the fact that I am totally crushing on my five year ago crush again, although, again, this time with far better prospects (as in, he actually speaks to me now).  Weird. 

Thankfully, all this could be depressing as hell, but its not really.  It all had matured and moved on.  Its like a different play being performed with the same set.