missing out

I have never been in a relationship so serious that the end of it has caused me to wallow for days in tearful self-pity.

I don't think I've ever even liked anyone that much. Or perhaps I have and I just haven't ever had a sufficiently focused rejection time to warrant all that wallowing at one time.

There are times when I wallow in self-pity for days on end, or at least for a day and a half or so. Curiously they are more often than not about how I don't have anyone to wallow over. Perhaps there is a human (or Michaelean) need to wallow some amount each year and I just fulfil it however I can.

I wish that I had such a person.

of mice and men

I feel like I'm spitting in John Steinbeck's face by using that title. Let alone the poet who originally coined that phrase - Frost? I don't know.

So I had plans for more "parody week" entries. Quite a number of them, in fact. I even drew out little indexed cards to scan in to use as the last one. But it was not to be, for I am lazy and have never finished a project in my life.

I saw Run Fatboy Run last night. On my computer, of course. The result was that I decided to get up this morning and go for a run. I got up at 11:59am and ate a large breakfast before watching nine or more hours of DVDs.

For those of you who haven't seen Season Three of Gilmore Girls (Senior Year) and who might want to, here by spoilers. I suggest you leave now. Go on. Go read limericks or something. The rest of this entry isn't for you.

I saw the episode where Rory and Paris appear on CSPAN at the Chilton bicentenary. Where Paris has a breakdown and yells at the camera. I dream of doing that. I would love to do that. Just to break down and go crazy and live just for a moment revealing precisely what I think. Release the raw emotion. That, I think, would be the ultimate catharsis. Somehow I don't hold out much hope.

parody week: zach braff

[Total lack of posts for more than a month]

cynacism revisited

This is why you shouldn't ever leave a CD sitting on a car seat. The CD doesn't even work any more, and that sucks. The funny part is that the CD was all about (insofar as mix CDs are "about" anything) Kevin Rudd's victory and new-found unwarranted optimism. And as I get more and more cynical, more offended by the actions of a government no better than the last, the disk melted and warped. Symbolic of my perception of government. Or maybe just coincidental, I'm not sure.

My life these days mostly consists of wading through the internet trying to laugh. Or maybe watching TV shows I should be ashamed of (though I still haven't gotten as far as Gilmore Girls). Just not doing the things that I should. I have to write a proposal to the Minister Assisting the Premier on Social Inclusion (as she will be in ten days). I haven't started. I really need to. I need to get this done so I can get the fucking monkey off my back. It's easier not to but better to.

I don't want to be of the wanky class that puts lyrics in their blog entries at meaningful points, but Ben Folds just told me that "I'm feeling more alone than I ever have before". Come on, how am I meant to not use that?

I want to watch more movies. 80s movies. Juno. Sweeny Todd. Whatever. I want also to be liked. Mostly I just want to be left alone for about a week, maybe two. No responsibilities, nothing to do, nothing to worry about. Just to be for a little while. A holiday, I think they call that.

The scholarship office emailed me today (I know, on a Sunday!) to ask if I was going to be going to uni this semester. And if I don't go next semester then the scholarship will need to be "renegotiated". Fuck. All they have to do is look at my academic record and dismiss me without anything.

So much for my year off.

I wouldn't mind going to uni, I think. There's a lot of free time, a lot of not doing much. I get to learn interesting things. The only trouble is that I will die because I can't actually do the mathematics so they'll expel me without a degree. I just don't think I'm capable of passing Algebra 3. There is a point where no matter how hard you work you just can't pass. That scares me shitless.

More crappy tv

I like to sit up at AUSSAT (or whatever that transceiver station is called) and look out over Hobart. I think it reminds me of the classic Hollywood look-over-LA scene. I think it's either ironic or symbolic of my entire existence that I never feel more connected to the real world than when I'm imitating its fakest part.

26/01: Fill in the Blank _____ Day?

I have been watching a lot of TV lately. TV-on-DVD-on-AVI, specifically. I didn't sleep last night, in fact. Between 2am and now (4pm) I have watched 13.5 episodes of Brothers & Sisters and a at least four episodes of Eureka. I tried to watch Gilmore Girls but I just can't make it past the opening credits. I'm too afraid that someone will find out. Because they will.

Today I've also fixed the internet (which I happened to break yesterday) and stopped my father from crushing himself with a cupboard shelf. We're doing the furniture-moving-minor-remodelling thing and it is disastrous, as always.

One of the things that I have realised, both from watching Brothers and Sisters and from Gideon leaving, is that I really value my family. A lot. Like, more than you can possibly imagine. A lot of the show is crap, a lot is over-dramatised, a lot is poorly acted but there are occasional moments which ring precisely true. Those are why I've spent ten hours watching this show. There is nothing quite like those moments of family life which are just so unfakable. Things you can't produce because you want to but that arise organically at any large gathering.

Tamar (my sister) is getting married in August. It is going to be magnificent, partially because of the wedding and partially because of the massive family gathering and the beauty of that.

There are a few other things I thought I would mention. This bit may be fairly disjointed.

I think it may be ironic that I know so many girls named Claire (or some variation thereof) given to what degree I lack clarity when thinking about girls.

I have been thinking of having a shirt made that says "I sent in that PostSecret that you like." Massive chick-magnet, I know.

The Mental Health Tribunal is the most intimidating place I have ever been. It totally fails to meet the informality requirement. I cannot imagine what it would be like for someone forced to undertake treatment against their will to try to argue their case in such a location. It is horrible. It certainly brought out my anxiety to the point of an attack that required me to quickly leave to see Juno. Which is a great film with a great soundtrack.

Finally, I've been crying a lot lately. Just because. I think this is what it would feel like to be on the edge of a nervous breakdown. Which isn't to say I am, because mine won't get worse. But if you're like this and likely to get worse it is probably the nervous breakdown,

C'est tout.