My Dad said a funny thing to me today. He said, "This is all going to go to shit, isn't it?" All right, it's not that funny, but I never promised you flowers, either. Get used to it.
I need to write and, at the moment, this is my world, so you'll have to excuse my self-involvement. I'll write about something worldly-wise in a while and I'll try not to get too weepy. I don't have the energy for it, anyway. Also, I'm writing this standing up, so I'll be concise. I'm not giving a standing ovation to my computer, by the way. It's because I can't sit down. An operation has left a nice little wound just beside my tailbone so my options are standing, lying on my front or lying on my side. The last two are not conducive to computer use.
FYI, I slipped down the stairs yesterday. Maybe five or six steps, but I landed on my arse for all of them. On the area where I had surgery. If I go for pain, I go all the way, baby.
Anyway, after composing myself from weeping in the foetal position, I fell into talking with my parents about moving house. We've been talking about little else since then. Today, my Dad was talking about the complicated moving house situation as they've now decided to move as well. Basically, my sister and her fiance may buy Mum and Dad's place and they, in turn, will move to a brand new block of flats. It all rather depends on my sister getting the mortgage sorted and that's what my Dad was talking about.
We fell into talking about the whole situation and it became apparent Dad really wanted to go. When I asked him why, he said that it was time to move on. Our house is too big for just them and it was the family home...now the family is moving on. Well, my sister will be setting up her own in a while and I have dibs on being the crazy spinster aunt.
It made me realise that I am also going to have to move on. I can no longer be the bumbling sister/daughter. I actually have to take responsibility for stuff, like bills and mortgages and possibly a cat or twenty. There is, of course, a part of me that just wants to say 'Fuck it, we're done for, I'm getting the hell out of here', before jumping on a Harley and riding off into the sunset. And, of course, I won't do that (for one, I think motorbikes are scary and secondly, I still can't sit down).
How I handle this new tranisition comes from my parents - I'm the product of them, after all. Like my father, I don't value possessions (make all the jokes you want about lost dvds - now you're never getting them back). They're just things. My mother, on the other hand, hoards like crazy and so do I. But I collect things of sentimental value. Somewhere in my room is a box with old birthday cards, tickets from gigs and other assorted stuff which holds fond memories. So, leaving this house is a bit of a strange prospect for me. Sure, on one hand, it's just a house filled with things, but on the other hand it was my home and I won't be able to go back to it again.
My parents both grew up poor yet their views are very different. Mum holds on to things because there could always be a use for them - never throw anything in the trash (unless it's, well, garbage). It's her way of being secure. My Dad, however, sees possessions as pointless - they can easily be taken away, so why try and hold on to them? Each of them understands that nothing is guaranteed and each deals with it in their own way, Mum by trying to be uber-prepared (the girl guides could learn a thing or two from her) and Dad by accepting that you can make plans but fate is indifferent and having a 42 inch plasma TV won't protect you against that. (However, he does accept that it would be cool to have one).
So, my opinion is to wait and see. I'm moving, there's no doubt about that. What happens after that is partly up to me. I believe in free will. However, I also believe that, sometimes, life will take me away from the places I wanted to go and the things I wanted to do. Accepting that isn't defeatism - it's just the way it is. I have absolutely no idea where I'll be in two years time, let alone five (the term of a mortgage I'm looking at). I do know that, whether I like it or not, I can't go back anymore. Only forward.
I need to write and, at the moment, this is my world, so you'll have to excuse my self-involvement. I'll write about something worldly-wise in a while and I'll try not to get too weepy. I don't have the energy for it, anyway. Also, I'm writing this standing up, so I'll be concise. I'm not giving a standing ovation to my computer, by the way. It's because I can't sit down. An operation has left a nice little wound just beside my tailbone so my options are standing, lying on my front or lying on my side. The last two are not conducive to computer use.
FYI, I slipped down the stairs yesterday. Maybe five or six steps, but I landed on my arse for all of them. On the area where I had surgery. If I go for pain, I go all the way, baby.
Anyway, after composing myself from weeping in the foetal position, I fell into talking with my parents about moving house. We've been talking about little else since then. Today, my Dad was talking about the complicated moving house situation as they've now decided to move as well. Basically, my sister and her fiance may buy Mum and Dad's place and they, in turn, will move to a brand new block of flats. It all rather depends on my sister getting the mortgage sorted and that's what my Dad was talking about.
We fell into talking about the whole situation and it became apparent Dad really wanted to go. When I asked him why, he said that it was time to move on. Our house is too big for just them and it was the family home...now the family is moving on. Well, my sister will be setting up her own in a while and I have dibs on being the crazy spinster aunt.
It made me realise that I am also going to have to move on. I can no longer be the bumbling sister/daughter. I actually have to take responsibility for stuff, like bills and mortgages and possibly a cat or twenty. There is, of course, a part of me that just wants to say 'Fuck it, we're done for, I'm getting the hell out of here', before jumping on a Harley and riding off into the sunset. And, of course, I won't do that (for one, I think motorbikes are scary and secondly, I still can't sit down).
How I handle this new tranisition comes from my parents - I'm the product of them, after all. Like my father, I don't value possessions (make all the jokes you want about lost dvds - now you're never getting them back). They're just things. My mother, on the other hand, hoards like crazy and so do I. But I collect things of sentimental value. Somewhere in my room is a box with old birthday cards, tickets from gigs and other assorted stuff which holds fond memories. So, leaving this house is a bit of a strange prospect for me. Sure, on one hand, it's just a house filled with things, but on the other hand it was my home and I won't be able to go back to it again.
My parents both grew up poor yet their views are very different. Mum holds on to things because there could always be a use for them - never throw anything in the trash (unless it's, well, garbage). It's her way of being secure. My Dad, however, sees possessions as pointless - they can easily be taken away, so why try and hold on to them? Each of them understands that nothing is guaranteed and each deals with it in their own way, Mum by trying to be uber-prepared (the girl guides could learn a thing or two from her) and Dad by accepting that you can make plans but fate is indifferent and having a 42 inch plasma TV won't protect you against that. (However, he does accept that it would be cool to have one).
So, my opinion is to wait and see. I'm moving, there's no doubt about that. What happens after that is partly up to me. I believe in free will. However, I also believe that, sometimes, life will take me away from the places I wanted to go and the things I wanted to do. Accepting that isn't defeatism - it's just the way it is. I have absolutely no idea where I'll be in two years time, let alone five (the term of a mortgage I'm looking at). I do know that, whether I like it or not, I can't go back anymore. Only forward.
5 comments:
and i'll be right there in the side car of your harley. Do they have side cars?
For you, I'm sure they'd attach one specially.
You do amuse me so, standing lady.
Ugh the future is a bit terrifying. This is making me a bit contemplative about myself you know.
But back to you. It doesn't matter where you'll be in five years, as natural as wondering about it is. You'll still be sitting there, grumbling good naturedly about stuff and looking after everyone.
Christ though, a five year mortgage term? Your repayments must be frankly terrifying!
What's scary is knowing I'll have a home of my own. And the fact I may start to collect cats like a chav collects asbos...
I'm standing on the precipice with you right now. Things at my pad are very uncertain -- we're not sure whether it will sell and if and when it'll be off the market; nor do half of us have any sold future plan (you guessed it, I'm part of that half).
See myself trying London again though maybe... for my sins.
Time will tell
Just who has fell
And who's been left behind
When you go your way and I go mine
[Dylan!]
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