Wednesday, February 14, 2007

I'm baaaaaaaaaack.

So here is the post you've all been eagerly awaiting. You might want to put the kettle on, this could take a while. The last few weeks have been really... umm... I don't know what word I could use to describe them.

I can't be fucked starting at the beginning. Big Day Out was fun. Woof Club was fun. Camping was fun. Club Kooky was fun. Catching up with an George who visited unexpectedly from Melbourne was fun.

Being homeless wasn't fun (perhaps displaced is a better word). Being broke wasn't fun. Living out of a suitcase wasn't fun. Breaking my (ex)partner's heart wasn't fun.

I broke up with Chris 1 week before my holidays and I have been living between different friends' homes from then up until a few days ago when I moved back in with my parents. Its really surreal to say the least. I feel like I'm stuck in a time warp. When I arrived home, escorted by Jackie who proved to be a perfect buffer, Mum kept offering to make my bed and I politely kept reminding her that I can make it, I know how to make it, I'M going to make it, OK!!??

After speaking to a couple of friends they made me realise that my parents have had kids to "look after" for the past 32 years so they don't know how to treat me any other way in their own home. It's just what they do. It is kind of nice being looked after though. I'm trying my best to be the "good son" that I never was.

I was last living at home about 4.5 years ago. Soon after I moved out my brother moved back in to sponge off them while he saved up a deposit for a house, which he just bought with his girlfriend. He moved out leaving my old bedroom vacant.

The first night in Concord West was OK (Saturday the 10th), I smoked a spliff before I got there to numb the pain a bit and proceeded to drink rather heavily until it was time to pass out. Jackie joined my parents and me for dinner and the conversation was rather enjoyable for us all.

Sunday Morning I caught a train to Redfern and walked back to my old place to collect my things as I had arranged with Chris. There was shit everywhere when I opened the door. Not exactly what I was expecting. I spent the next couple of hours sifitng through our belongings. His, mine, his, mine, ours, bin, his, etc. Dad came in the afternoon and Murray helped us carry the boxes to the car.

I have so many boxes of crap in my room. I added another carload of boxes to the pile yesterday when I collected the last of my belongings from the old place. I don't know what half of it is. I need to sift through it all over the weekend.

It was really upsetting to be in the old place. So many happy memories. I lost it when I caught sight of a button in a ball of fluff that had been ripped from a doona cover at Cally's farewell party almost 2 years ago. Deep breaths got me through until I composed myself and Dad arrived yet again to help me transport my crap home.

I normally have some kind of direction when I start a post but so much has happened that I don't really know what is worth mentioning and what isn't.

I'm feeling a bit bleugh after revisiting those memories so I might have a bit of a breather.



At 2:27 AM, Blogger buff said...

Dad's are good at that, helping their sons with their stuff.

Hoping you are readjusting to life at home. Moving is always such a challenge.

Big hairy muscle hugs. And a great Mardi Gras coming up. WOOF


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