Well, it was bound to happen eventually. I've hit a wall.
Surprisingly enough, it's coincided with the section of the film that I've planned out the least. Hmmm. I guess all that notecarding and planning actually does make a difference.
It's also coincided with a bunch of family stuff that I've had to deal with - obviously this blog isn't about my personal life (yet) but it's interesting to find how tricky it can be to write when you're a) rushed off your feet, and b) emotionally exhausted.
It's not like I'm facing anything catastrophic, don't worry - after 30 odd years at the same address, my parents are selling up and 'downsizing' (although most of the houses they've been looking at seem to be as big, if not bigger, than their current place). It's been a long and emotional journey, and the decision has largely been influenced by financial factors, so in an ideal world this probably wouldn't be happening. Certainly not yet, and certainly not in this manner.
Add into the mix are the fact that they're both hoarders worthy of their own TV show, and their decision to renovate the house before they sell (by hiring a slightly dodgy friend with questionable handyman skills), and bam - hilarity ensues!
As a family who have always had a very strong sense of community and 'home', the fact that we're about to lose our safe haven of the last three decades has hit me quite strongly. I haven't lived at home for well over ten years now, but it's still my 'safe place'. A place where I can lie on the couch with the dog in front of the open fire whenever I'm feeling crappy, or sit on the verandah with a beer talking shit with my dad. I wrote my first songs and first plays in this house. There are years and years of happy memories, and quite a few horrible memories too... but for some reason, I'm going to miss both the good and the bad.
All of my friends have expressed severe shock when I've broken the news to them. 'How can your family be going somewhere else? That house is so....them!' has been the general response.
It's weird to realise how much of my sense of 'self' has been based around that house. Here's the place in question.
I've been trying to channel this feeling of impending displacement; of not knowing where I belong any more, into my writing. When I'm not sanding, plastering, painting, moving boxes, looking at houses online, or acting as a mediator between my parents as they try to work out where they're moving, that is...
Normally I would welcome external stresses as a fantastic excuse to jump into a make-believe world and do some writing, but at the moment it's all a little bit overwhelming.
Sigh.
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