Shits Getting Real

Only 2 more nights of being in this place. I’ve spent from when we first got approved to now just wishing the time would hurry up and go faster. Now it’s reached this point and now I’m going through this weird attachment process. It was like what happened with my parents the first time I moved out. I wanted to get out sooooo badly, I hated being around my parents soooo much, but the moment it was time to leave home for the first time, I was sad, I missed it a bit.

Which is dumb and in my opinion only just an in the moment thing, it’s the same feeling when you go to throw something out that you’re not using anymore but then you remember all the emotions attached to the one object. It’s the reason why hoarders are hoarders. Personal attachment to stuff not people, which I can relate to because people suck, and at least whatever stuff it is it was bought for a reason and isn’t a jerk (unless of course that item is a computer or iPhone, because both of those things are cunts to use…)


My loungeroom is so bare now, that cabinet was full of shit and then on the other side of the heater there were 2 bookshelves on top of each other packed with books. And Predator is just standing there like;


Eh what the fuck man?! Where’s bobble head Alex from A Clockwork Orange, where’s the Pokemon ball marble holder, and where the fuck is Sergeant Marcus… I’m so lonely and my mouth is always open in a position that makes me look I’m singing opera on a constant.

This is not an official Predator, this is a Predator made out of screws and nuts and bolts and shit. It is the most heaviest, annoying thing to move because it’ll just a destroy a box if we pack it. This was Jes predator but he didn’t want it so I ended up with it. For some reason, even though everyone knew Jes was an Alien fan, they seemed to think Predator was the same thing. Stoopid. I haven’t seen a predator film ever, but I have marathoned the Alien series more then once. But I couldn’t let this predator end up at the tip, he’s pretty cool he’s just no alien.

I guess Predator will get to float in the car with the rest of our awkwardly sized stuff that won’t fit into boxes such as; the laminated 15 a4 sheets Dragonball Z picture I did at 11 (because my parents FINALLY thought it was fine to give it back now as it was only up for that many years out of guilt) and the rope hammock that is in no way going to be good as a hammock yet I’m not allowed to throw it out.

I’m going to miss you split system air conditioner, we won’t have one at the new place but we do have a dishwasher now, so I guess air con was a sacrifice. Goodbye gas heater, I know I’ve only literally started using you in the past 2 weeks but you were pretty warm, just didn’t appreciate nearly getting set on fire every time I got too close to you.

Oh, and I see you’re a Vulcan heater so…


The rest of the Vulcan people salute you, live long and prosper.

And I don’t want anyone to get the idea that I’m one of those people that are into classical art. I’m really not, that painting/print is the Starship Enteprise, and not even my poster.

I can’t believe how much we’ve done, and I honestly thought I was being really slow with it. But by Wednesday morning everything will be out in the car port ready to just be thrown in the truck. And then dad won’t have to bitch and moan about the way we packed either or that he had to help, because mum got movers too, and me and mister have pretty well done all the work ourselves. This is going to be the simplest most straight forward move I’ve ever had…

I don’t like it, I reckon something will fuck up a lot easier. When you’re stressing and doing it quickly, you’re better at handling even more stress because you’re already at the end of your tether and have to get shit done regardless of whether you want to break down or not. (I realise how broken that logic must sound to most, but hey, that’s Kim logic, I’d rather handle all the stress at once instead of little bits of stress everyday).

One thing I am proud of myself for was the back room, mister and I have been avoiding it since we moved, mister still managed to find a way to get out of dealing with it. It was literally the spare room of holding, it held all the stuff we wouldn’t be bothered going through, was also the room we dumped stuff in when we didn’t know what to do with it. I did it. I cleaned a thing. More then a thing, a room, and by clean I mean, I put all the shit we wanted to take into boxes, and picked up the random rubbish that made it into the room. It’s funny, I now have a feeling of what that room would’ve looked and felt like, and I get to enjoy it for like 2 days. For 2 days it feels like we now have a 2 bedroom unit instead of a one bedroom with a room full of junk.

To most, this is still messy as shit. But to me, I’m just like;

Wow. So that’s what the floor in here looks like. Cool. – Kim

My head’s been everywhere lately (I sort of cringe at my last 2 posts) but I do think it’s because of the stress. Since doing that much to the back room a lot of that stress has been lifted, because it was really bad. You couldn’t even walk in there and I was getting panicked at where to start because I don’t like cleaning rooms. I never have, I’m not a tidy person. I’m an arty person that is happy living in a mess, until I’m not then it gets cleaned but it stays clean for about a day then it’s in exactly the same state it was in.

I want to keep this new place clean though, it’s the biggest place I’ve lived in, big places are harder to get messy, but when you do it’s harder to clean. We will see.

Since I have been intense lately, I’ll just leave an oldy but goody, Star Trekkin’.




2 thoughts on “Shits Getting Real

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