Can you hear the sanity dripping away?

I knew this would happen. I started this blog about three week ago, and although I do have much to write about that others may find interesting, I am simply too lazy and not bothered to put them down in writing. However, a slight but brief change in my current lifestyle has driven me to write this blog.

Those who know me well know that I still live at home with my parents and younger brother. Despite the inherent loserishness (I have patent pending on that word) of my present living condition, it is a pretty good arrangement in my worthy opinion. But first let me take you back in time to accentuate why living at home is not so bad. At this time last year I was working for the Royal Brisbane Hospital. The job itself was very boring. So boring that if someone changed all the words in every single book at the Brisbane State Library to "boring", and then read every book out loud in a dull monotone voice one after the other, it would still be slightly more interesting than doing my particular job in the payroll department of the RBWH. However, it was a government job and believe it or not but government job's rule when it comes to perks and extras. Paid sick leave, paid rec leave, leave loading, public holidays, and overtime and weekend pay that could double your fortnight's take simply by working a couple of extra hours. But the work was still horrible.

Imagine playing solitaire for eight hours straight. It was something like that. But the people there more than made up for it. If any Payroll people are reading this, you guys are awesome!

My apologies, I have digressed. Basically what I am saying is while I was only earning about seven to eight hundred dollars a fortnight (after tax), I had no debts and no bills of any kind. All money I made went straight to the bank and stayed there.

Today, I am unemployed, studying full time at university, live with my parents and brother, and receive centrelink payments. But I still have no payments to make to anyone. Yay me.

If you have read this far then please stay with me. The point of this blog is almost upon us.

As of last Monday I have suddenly found myself living alone. No, I haven't moved out yet, although that is near the top of my to-do list. Well, top 25 at least. I am living alone because my Mother and brother have traveled to England, and my Father has a new job at a drilling company located in some forsaken western desert.

I have stayed home alone before, don't get me wrong. But never for this amount of time; almost two weeks. And I have lived away from home alone before for a few weeks, but that was different. This time I still have the same surroundings, but everything seems bigger. It feels as if there is double the space than usual. I don't have to have a degree in analytical psychotherapy to realise that the house feels big because there is only one person living here as opposed to the usual four. But that is not the big thing.

It is the silence that is getting to me. The perfect quiet that seems to surround a usually noisy house like a plastic bubble is, in my belief, driving me a little crazy.

On a normal day there is at least one other person in the house with me. My Mum who would be hanging out the washing, or talking about how she is late to work, or playing John Barrowman on the stereo. My Dad who would be cooking, or watching the news, or operating a stinking petrol driven power tool, or constantly asking where the "on" button is on the computer. Or my brother who would be playing his annoying music at top volume, or stomping around upstairs as if he were wearing reinforced concrete socks, or playing video games, or complaining about food while still eating it, or having an orgasm every time some apparently super famous sports star that I have never heard of scores a point in whatever sport may be on TV.

But now there is nothing. And I am going ever so slightly insane. I am turning the television on for background noise. I am talking to myself more than usual. I am voluntarily and willingly doing menial chores, which is unheard of. I think I may be developing responsibility; I must see a doctor to have it removed.

Oh, I also tried to eat a man who knocked on my door and tried to talk to me about Jesus. But that has nothing to do with going crazy, that is how I normally react to religious door knockers. That or running around waving a stick screaming "You are cursed! You are cursed!" Or simply answering them in a slow, dark and deliberate voice "I'm sorry, but you are too late..."

The look on their face is priceless.

That reminds me of something that happened about a year ago.

I remember it being Sunday and I was probably watching TV, when I heard a knock at the door. Upon answering the door I saw two boys, roughly between the ages of 12 and 15, dressed in what was obviously "Sunday best." Good pants, blue shirt, tie, blazer, and those dicky straw hats that private school students are forced to wear (poor souls). And it was summer so it was a hot day.

Anyway, these two young kids asked if I was interested in joining a church of some description; the exact details are lost within the dark recesses of my memory. I told them no thanks, I'm not religious. But after they left I felt angry. What the hell were two young teenagers doing on a Sunday morning knocking on doors asking people about Jesus? They should be at home playing video games, or pretending to study, or looking at pornography, or playing sport. I really do hope that it was a one off occasion, that they had been forced into it by their parents.

At this point I hope no one is offended. I am not religious myself, but I do respect the beliefs of others as long as they don't tell me I'm going to hell for not believing. That is just rude.

But kids or teenagers should not be doing the mormon thing, they have enough troubles and self-esteem issues already without a hundred people telling them to "get lost" on a Sunday morning.

I could probably keep typing about random shit until my fingers bleed, but I think organising these thoughts into some sort of order first would be beneficial.

I may post another blog about the state of my sanity soon, and whether or not I have burnt the house down or gnawed my own leg off out of boredom.

But for now just try and stay happy, it will probably get better. And remember: mormons taste better than they look.