Your Opinion Is Wrong™

It's been almost a year since I first happened across this townhouse that I call home. I was initially looking - pretty damn indiscriminately - for a place that I could live, while generally making more noise via amp and via drum kit, than I could normally expect to get away with in a residential area this close to the city. According to my requirements back then, it needed running water and at least 85% of its roof intact. Reasonably lockable doors were a plus. Room for a three-piece band a must.

What I found was so much more. I found a place that actually had a decent-sized living room that, with Lucas' kit and my speaker cab taking up a good portion of it already, was still pretty damn adequate. I found a place which was central enough to allow me to walk to work every day (aside from those times when it was raining...or when I was feeling lazy...or when I was running late...or when it was too hot...or when it was too cold...). I found a place that had a fucking excellent pizza place within five minutes' walk - maximum convenience for when there was a nerding happening at the time, which was quite often. I found a place that was generally near people, places and things while also providing a nice sense of isolation - I remember Pete nailing it on the head, describing the far side of Glebe Point Road as feeling as though it were the main street through a regional town centre - not something that's a 10-minute bus trip to Central Station.

One thing that I regretted was that, in my haste to leave Greenacre and get my life back in order, was that I moved in with somebody who - thankfully - didn't mess with my life as much as she could have. It seems that I'm able to tell when something or somebody is bad for me more often than not, giving me a chance to prevent it from affecting me more than it has to.

...or I can just purge the problem from my life. I won't say that I'm not a charity - certainly not to any of my friends, especially if they're ever in need of any help - but she certainly didn't feel the need to glean any assistance from myself or anybody else who was trying to reach out to her - unless it was any kind of short-term fix for her troubles. Good for her to be living off handouts of goodwill from her friends, not so good for her friends when she is comfortably relying on their tolerance. Back to her parents she went. Let them deal with her for another few years and hopefully they'll finish raising her. She was lucky to have us as friends - I'd say that she was lucky to have me as a housemate, but that isn't true. Whatever catalyst, be it an inspirational speech or life-changing event that it was that she needed in order to become a real person wasn't going to come from me. For three months, all I did was put up with what most others wouldn't put up with for more than a fortnight. Big deal.

On the plus side, I did happen across Dooga, who has been an awesome housemate. He has, more often than not, put up with Lucas' warmup technique on the odd Saturday morning (involving hitting drums with little regard for dynamic - ghost-notes have their place, but not in Lucas' warmup routine, goshdarnit!). I imagine that our sessions would have been easier to deal with had we learned an entire song over the past year, but in reality, Adrian has had to deal with the bits of songs we've been working on - something that I reckon is pretty notable - who willingly listens to a band that always tries playing songs that they (collectively) don't have the skill to...

...Oh, sorry. I thought we were supposed to be playing the chorus now. What? Oh, shit, I wasn't playing that song, I was playing the one that goes like this.

I have yet to tell him of my plans to leave this place, but I will when he gets home tonight - the more time I give him to decide what he'll be doing, the better. None of this "I'm moving out tomorrow, k,buyie!" thing.

As The D6 is moving ahead, we three directors of nerdery have to be living as cheaply as possible and this place may be a bargain for a townhouse in Glebe, but that don't make it cheap - I was only sticking around as it was more than worth it thanks to the things I've been raving about for the past [too many] paragraphs. I was, more than once, contemplating moving back in with my mum. She insists that the offer still stands to move back in (I'm afraid she might be having a touch of the Empty Nest syndrome). The idea would be the best financial decision that I could make. But I know it'd drive me nuts all over again and that's something that no amount of money could account for. So, what's the plan, then, I hear you not asking? Pete and I will be getting a place in Ashfield by the look of it. Something cheap. And Pref is looking to move out as well, so she may be in, depending on how she agrees with the place. I'll see if I can't find a decent-sized house that can have three to four people in it and we'll see where this goes.