As you all know, I live somewhere, how unexpected. Some of you know where I live, some have seen where I live and even some of you have visited me and stayed the night, heard me complain and so on and so forth. Yes, it is not all that great here, this neighbourhood is a bit dead and I can't stand the stuck up asses these people here have. Then there is the trouble with the neighbour who is so stuck up he is desperate to sue us over a 10cm piece of plot that not even belongs to him but he believes it does, just because local authority failed to due their duty and only cared about the money. The latter is the stick that broke the camel's and my parents back and now they are desperate to move away from this piece of dirt we have been living on for the past 12 years. Yes, this is not all my life, I have never felt this place was my home, it just isn't. It is a house and a village that the dirt we are standing on that gives me the right to have these modern rights of education and a bank account, but it is the people that make a place home. Home is where the heart is. My heart is with the people that cared for me when I believed that my parents didn't (this was never the case, don't you worry), when I felt I was dying, when the pain was unbearable and I could hardly get out of bed, those are the people that will make any place home, those are the ones I look for when I need to talk to someone. My parents love me and all that shit but they believe act like they don't care, or seem to act like that and that does not make me share my problems with them, it does the opposite.
Now, moving is all fine with me, yet, as ridiculous and lovingly abnormal they are, they want to spend the last 50 years of their lives away from the hassle of the "Randstad" (between 4 of the biggest cities) and closer to the lovely rural province of Twente and close to the German border. Yesterday we went house shopping, first two houses were of my parents interest and they had seen it last week to see if it really was a house and place they want to move to. Apparently they liked it enough to take the whole bunch of us and my Dad's brother + partner with us to see those two houses. After more than an hour drive towards the German border, mind you, I live 5km from the North Sea, so this really IS the other side of the country without kidding. I used to joke about it saying "we are moving to the other side of the country" ... now it might become reality. The horror just came in time for Halloween.
The first house is done, the house that is, it also includes a shop that is rather big and there could be made an apartment out of it, or anything, whatever my parents decide to come up with. Have a look around and see for yourself. The street it is on is the village, it counts about 25 houses and is in the middle of nowhere. (The flag on the map is a bit off though, just move a little north until you see a bunch of houses along the road.) The other house was even more in the middle of fucking nowhere, between the corn fields and close to the high way. It was a farm that hadn't been in use for the longest time, it smelled badly and it has to be completely stripped from the inside and rebuild to make it liveable. My parents see this as "an interesting project". I see it as hell on a farm farther away than the closest University is now. The pictures do not even justice to the state of reflectance and bad 70's style and smell that house had, but my parents felt very comfortable there and thought the house had a "thing" going on. First of all, how the hell can you even consider moving to a farm-esque house that has "the gnome" as name! seriously??!! Second, I am not planning on coming home from a week of hard working for school to a place where I am completely stuck, with one "disco" for the whole area and where they won't be having any awesome cyber-ish/metal/rock events going on.
The road .... yes, it is a sand road.
Now, all this talk about moving, I will have to say that wherever my parents will move to, my home will never again by my home. Since the "Achterhoek" is just too far away form the place I study, the lively city of The Hague, I will have to move out anyway. Before I am done studying I will be too old to move back home, unless my sister, who will be 21 when she is done. So, I might just have to consider this year as my last year living with my parents, even though it is already half over.
At least, I finally get what I want, I am to move out, away from my parents.
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