I'm Tired and I Want to Go Home

So the ANZAC Day entry didn't eventuate. I've been very slack with anything writing-based lately so that's hardly a surprise but I still feel a bit guilty. I enjoyed a long weekend because, years ago, a bunch of young kids who had no concept of what a World War even was got shot to death on the shores of a country they'd probably never heard about in their youth. It's difficult to empathise, I think, but reflection still brings about a mixed bag of emotions. Australia is so isolated from the reality of war even now because of the limited palpable threat that exists. I suppose intellectually we realise that everywhere is a target these days but the emotional realisation just isn't there, it's been a long time since we lost enough of our sons for the whole nation to feel the loss. And yet, when I hear that Last Post, I cry. Every. Single. Time. The power of music has been remarked upon time and time again and this wouldn't be the only instance where I've been moved to tears by a song but the poignancy of that mournful tune and the solitude of that single bugle is gut-wrenching. I know what war is when I hear it and I don't like it. Not one bit.

Anyway, it would be nice to report that I squandered the opportunity to reflect in a meaningful way about the soldiers who gave their lives so that I could be eating this chocolate today because something even more important came up but that's really not been the case. The internet and I have had a falling out recently, it doesn't behave at all appropriately and winds up causing me stress when all I want to do is escape the mind-numbing mediocrity of my real life. Some might argue that it's doing me a favour since tackling the problems in my actual life is a job I've been putting off for far too many years but those people are fools. Escapism is the new black. The internet needs to get its act together.

Still, life goes on. And on and on and on. I'd like to tell it to get over itself but I fear it might take me too literally and I have no clean underwear in which to be buried. Work has been slow but steady, providing me with enough income not to be panicking at this point in my "Tell Centrelink to Screw Itself" campaign. Life in our household has gone on much to the usual routine, I took Grace to ballet the other day and even managed to get to the Post Office on Thursday to send a Mother's Day present home. I bought two Tamagotchis and have already killed one of them. I've started taking kelp tablets and I'm waiting on my healthcare card to turn up so I can go to the doctor because I have a feeling my thyroid might have taken a vacation, and my sleeping patterns have returned to normal, allowing me to be up at 7am without feeling like a complete zombie. If I'd known I just needed to eat seaweed to feel marginally human again, I could have been chowing down for years. I remember only too well all the boating trips where the water was riddled with kelp and other frond-like lifeforms that I choose to believe were plants and not freaky marine creatures though I will admit it's somewhat difficult to tell. Heck, I could have been eating more sushi. This was not what I envisaged "eating my greens" would entail. Nevertheless, there has been improvement so whether it is actually my iodine levels or just that my body is a pawn in the game my mind likes to call "Fooled You, Sucker!", I will take benefits and run.

Kind of like my Centrelink days.

And that's about it really. Maybe next time I'll talk about something a little more "social commentary-ish" because I have a few topics in mind but, for now, I leave you with this.

I really have too much time on my hands.