Ah. I think I know what to blame for, perhaps, my overly excessive swinging moods, aside from, well, the relevant stress and, well, being addled.
It's that time of the year again, the discernable ending of regular TV programming, where channel 10 is blunt and honest about reruns, mostly, and channel 9 is decidedly less honest and forth coming with TV fodder, determinedly trying to stretch out the last of the seasons shows, and showing the odd season it, mysteriously, hadn't put into primetime programming, even though it should be there. Then, when that show *CSI: Miami *cough* *, actually comes to light, even though the same season started in the US last year, and ended this year before July, they still fuck with us, and promise new episodes, only to slot in more reruns than a stomach can handled. Because CSI is good, but I still favor homework over repeats.
Yes, it's that time of the year, when all the good TV shows have ended, and I, like a beggar or a homeless person in winter in some patriarchal medieval township, scrounge close to the warmest bits of offered reprieve. Ergo, this is the time of year, where, in a minimal emotional way, I am completely fucked.
You see, my emotional development goes, simply, from, quite sad, to less sad, to finding CSI, to becoming happy. Of course, it's more complex than that, but that's the short version. So, at the end, or more, just over the middle of the year, when CSI ends, and the channels *cough* channel nine you bastard*, start to fuck with us, I tend to get a bit down. Of course, I realise, that no more do I really have anything TV wise to look forward to during the week, and while I rely on it, perhaps, in a less intense way than I used to, having something to sit down to, to take my mind off things, is a very important thing to me.
It's funny, really, because you hear about UV depression, and, winter depression, and so on and so forth. Well, I just feel, a bit sad, because, you know, being a writer, all the fictional people I connect with are on hiatus time. I live off scraps of spoilers and news reports until later this year, when shows like House, and maybe CSI, poke their heads out with promos and promises which are usually, not kept in full.
Of course, it's also the breaking of routine. On CSI Sunday, I have a shower at eight, I get dressed in my pyjamas, grab my embroidery, or some filing, and I watch CSI. On Wednesday, I do the same, except now I'll be at TAFE, but either way, it was House, or NCIS, or CSI: Miami, whatever it was. On Friday, there was nothing, but you know it's only a matter of time until CSI comes on again. I still remember when Monday meant CSI: NY, Tuesday was CSI night, and Wednesday was CSI: Miami... I don't even think we've had the CSI: NY final yet, as we've just started on the Taxi cab killer. Of course, writing to channel 9 does fuck all, not that I've tried, but I get the general impression, having no direct email contact address, and coming off generally pretentious in their arrangement of new episodes of TV series, that they really don't want you to contact them. Peter Harvey doesn't help either.
So, yes, I think that may, be partially, to blame. I mean, I've been expecting it for a while, but, until now, I've been, a bit, too busy to exactly notice that this time of year had come again, because I usually coast on channel 9's time delay of series finales, until, well, about this time of year, I guess.
If any of you are weirded out by this apparent obsession with TV, you, probably, have some rights to be. To put it blankly, without CSI, I'm quite perfectly convinced I'd still be quite depressed, and perhaps with more meds than I should be on. That's one hypothesis, anyway, because, well, I don't see many alternatives, as, the thing is, CSI, did happen, I did, get addicted, and I did, begin to feel better about myself then I had something to look forward to during the week, an hour of peace and quiet, so to speak.
Plus, I'm a writer. I spend, six or eight months, or, whatever, following the fictional lives of people who I know, in some, really mind warping way, helped to save me from depravity. Hell yeah I miss it when the season comes to an end... There's Doctor Who, but, you know, that ends soon too.
I think I may have to keep with the routine of showers at eight, and then, maybe stick to an hour of writing, or something. Yeah, that feels like a nice, guilt free way of staving off what I call the TV blues.
If anyone wants to get al holy about my apparent, glaringly obvious addiction to TV... You can, well, fuck off. I'm all for free moral thought, but TV, this is what helps, this is my way of making my world a little more sane. You can't knock that.
I could also start regular weekly sessions of Trek, but, that, in itself, threatens a certain familial mutiny if I made a habit of it.
Writing it is! Tonight, I'll write a kissing story, or finish off Ecklie's prompts, I'm not sure.
It's that time of the year again, the discernable ending of regular TV programming, where channel 10 is blunt and honest about reruns, mostly, and channel 9 is decidedly less honest and forth coming with TV fodder, determinedly trying to stretch out the last of the seasons shows, and showing the odd season it, mysteriously, hadn't put into primetime programming, even though it should be there. Then, when that show *CSI: Miami *cough* *, actually comes to light, even though the same season started in the US last year, and ended this year before July, they still fuck with us, and promise new episodes, only to slot in more reruns than a stomach can handled. Because CSI is good, but I still favor homework over repeats.
Yes, it's that time of the year, when all the good TV shows have ended, and I, like a beggar or a homeless person in winter in some patriarchal medieval township, scrounge close to the warmest bits of offered reprieve. Ergo, this is the time of year, where, in a minimal emotional way, I am completely fucked.
You see, my emotional development goes, simply, from, quite sad, to less sad, to finding CSI, to becoming happy. Of course, it's more complex than that, but that's the short version. So, at the end, or more, just over the middle of the year, when CSI ends, and the channels *cough* channel nine you bastard*, start to fuck with us, I tend to get a bit down. Of course, I realise, that no more do I really have anything TV wise to look forward to during the week, and while I rely on it, perhaps, in a less intense way than I used to, having something to sit down to, to take my mind off things, is a very important thing to me.
It's funny, really, because you hear about UV depression, and, winter depression, and so on and so forth. Well, I just feel, a bit sad, because, you know, being a writer, all the fictional people I connect with are on hiatus time. I live off scraps of spoilers and news reports until later this year, when shows like House, and maybe CSI, poke their heads out with promos and promises which are usually, not kept in full.
Of course, it's also the breaking of routine. On CSI Sunday, I have a shower at eight, I get dressed in my pyjamas, grab my embroidery, or some filing, and I watch CSI. On Wednesday, I do the same, except now I'll be at TAFE, but either way, it was House, or NCIS, or CSI: Miami, whatever it was. On Friday, there was nothing, but you know it's only a matter of time until CSI comes on again. I still remember when Monday meant CSI: NY, Tuesday was CSI night, and Wednesday was CSI: Miami... I don't even think we've had the CSI: NY final yet, as we've just started on the Taxi cab killer. Of course, writing to channel 9 does fuck all, not that I've tried, but I get the general impression, having no direct email contact address, and coming off generally pretentious in their arrangement of new episodes of TV series, that they really don't want you to contact them. Peter Harvey doesn't help either.
So, yes, I think that may, be partially, to blame. I mean, I've been expecting it for a while, but, until now, I've been, a bit, too busy to exactly notice that this time of year had come again, because I usually coast on channel 9's time delay of series finales, until, well, about this time of year, I guess.
If any of you are weirded out by this apparent obsession with TV, you, probably, have some rights to be. To put it blankly, without CSI, I'm quite perfectly convinced I'd still be quite depressed, and perhaps with more meds than I should be on. That's one hypothesis, anyway, because, well, I don't see many alternatives, as, the thing is, CSI, did happen, I did, get addicted, and I did, begin to feel better about myself then I had something to look forward to during the week, an hour of peace and quiet, so to speak.
Plus, I'm a writer. I spend, six or eight months, or, whatever, following the fictional lives of people who I know, in some, really mind warping way, helped to save me from depravity. Hell yeah I miss it when the season comes to an end... There's Doctor Who, but, you know, that ends soon too.
I think I may have to keep with the routine of showers at eight, and then, maybe stick to an hour of writing, or something. Yeah, that feels like a nice, guilt free way of staving off what I call the TV blues.
If anyone wants to get al holy about my apparent, glaringly obvious addiction to TV... You can, well, fuck off. I'm all for free moral thought, but TV, this is what helps, this is my way of making my world a little more sane. You can't knock that.
I could also start regular weekly sessions of Trek, but, that, in itself, threatens a certain familial mutiny if I made a habit of it.
Writing it is! Tonight, I'll write a kissing story, or finish off Ecklie's prompts, I'm not sure.
curiousWash your hands