Weblog entries posted on this day.
Every year, there's this event in the The Hague that's called Koninginnenach. On this day, there's a lot of live music on different stages in the center of The Hague. On this day, everybody and their grandmothers seem to be out on the street. On this day, I always go loose.
This very night, the fifteenth edition of this event took place. I haven't missed a single one in many years. Heck, since I live here (close to the center, and for about four years now), there's been an anual afterparty at my place. Seeing my current condition (read: manic depression), I wasn't too sure about even going this year though.
Yesterday was a pretty tough one. I had trouble catching sleep the night before (and it was late already... not in the last place because I installed Les Sims plus Het Rijke Leven, Party, Hote Date, Op Vakantie, Beestenboel, and Superstar), and I woke up mutiple times before getting out of bed. The weather sucked, so I couldn't play basketball. I was anxious pretty much all day... now I knew for sure I wouldn't attend Koninginnenach the next day.
Today I was woken up by a call from one of my psychologists. I agreed to see two other doctors because they want to do more testing. Anyway. I felt pretty good. I got myself ready and walked to Central Station Court to play some 'ball.
During the day I was called 7 or 8 times, by various people, asking me to come to town. I refused all the offers, because I was still sure I wasn't going. I played basketball at Bakkersplein for the rest of the day.
When I finally got home around 11, I changed my clothes and put on some after-shave. My mom asked me if I was going. I said I didn't know.
Up to that moment I was sure I wasn't going, but something was itching. I watched myself getting all dressed up. Pin stripe suit, white/orange shirt, orange tie... the whole deal. I agreed with myself to at least go into town to sniff the atmosphere, and perhaps say hi
to some friend.
Once I was in town, I called Scummie. As with every Koninginnenach there was a lot of mis-communication and a lot of difficulties with the mobile phone networks, but after some time we finally got to meet up. He was with a guy I'd never met.
After I said hi
I figured I could stick around for a drink (a Coke). After that drink we went to the Grote Markt (the Zeta, to be exact). There were beautiful women, a pleasant ambience, and eighties music. More importantly, I felt good. I traded the Coke for a 14 year old Oban — more like my usual self.
We hung around for some time, and I had a good one at that. There was no anxiety, no depression — it was just me, my whiskey, good people, and eighties music.
After our drinks we walked around through town some more, Scummie and his friend got themselves some food (during which I ran into several friends from high school), and then we had the craziest idea... we decided to go dancing.
Now... normally it would be weirder if we were not going to dance. I'm a very outgoing person, in the sense that I got out... a lot (there's been periods where I would go out about two to seven times a week), but nowdays it's different. Very different. Since this depression kicked in over half a year ago, I haven't had one normal night out — I tried maybe twice, but I'd be overwhelmed by anxiety.
Anyway. Scummie and his friend had the idea of going to Asta. I felt perfectly fine (also known as normal), and figured what the heck
.
I danced and had a great time. Well how about that? There was a white light at the end of the tunnel, I passed it, and didn't even notice it.
This brings good hope for the Bowie concert I'm attending with my dad in June.
This day, elsewhere.