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.
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.