Mum, Dad, Sister.
So to begin with, obviously, there’s Mum, Dad and Sister, the ones I live with. Sister and I have a pointedly love-hate relationship. Since coming out to my parents, in March 2007, things have become easier at home in many ways: I feel so much freer. Since my coming out to her, not much has changed except for the fact that she no longer harps on about “the homosexuals” and their unreasonable demands.

Pop
Pop, Dad’s father, has been a regular character on this blog, especially since his passing, as I’ve been dealing with my grief. He was my hero.

Grandma, Grandpa and the Family-at-Large
Grandma and Grandpa are my Mum’s parents. They have four children: Aunt Agony, Mum, U1 and U2. In many ways we are the typical European immigrant family: always in each others’ pockets. As a child I thought all families were like this; it wasn’t until I was much older that I realized how unhealthy a setup we have so I’ve been trying to extricate myself slowly to a healthy distance. But I love them all dearly, despite their pissing me off on a fairly regular basis.

Rick is the son of Aunt Agony. Like his mother, he is abrasive and very difficult to be around. I don’t trust him. I feel deeply sorry for him, because I suspect he is deeply unhappy in his own skin.

For the sake of clarity, and because I was running out of pseudonyms, I named my two uncles U1 and U2 (think Bananas in Pyjamas), and their wives A1 and A2. U1 was married to Tía for 19 years, but he left her and their four children (Lala, Bee, Ade and Bin) for another woman, A1, with whom he now has a daughter, Zoe. Zoe is happiness and joy personified. U2, who is a complete enigma, is living with A2; together they have a son, my godson, Luke.

Although technically no longer my aunt, I still feel a special connection with Tía and find it difficult to reconcile the fact that U1 and A1 are now married, thus making A1 my aunt as well. I cannot relate to A1 as an aunt. When he left, I witnessed the devastation that was left behind and watched quietly as Tía and her children slowly grew into the people they are today. We all consider his leaving to be the best thin ever to happen to their family, despite the heartache it caused.

The beach crew
Lala and her boyfriend Cal have their own place, a couple of blocks from the beach, where I often stay during the holidays. They have two dogs that I have adopted as my own: Roxie and Olly. Lala and Cal are more like siblings than cousins. Bee, Ade (and his girlfriend Mary), and Bin (and her boyfriend Alex) complete The Beach Crew. We often hang out with Lala’s best friend, Amber and her husband Tom.

The state-of-mind family
That leaves Kate and her son Lance, Liz, Calla and Amy, who are the state-of-mind family. Kate and Liz are like sisters, often bearing the brunt of my bad days when I can’t take it out on my “real” Sister.

That’s about it for now… I’m sure I’ve forgotten someone, so I’ll you in later if I have.

The ones I live with
Now that I am living at uni, I have four housemates: The Optimist, The Space Cadet, The Accountant and The Guianan. The Optimist, so named because at 19 was ready to start learning before classes started, is a refreshing influence to on my jaded outlook. The Space Cadet needs no introduction; I avoid him at all costs. The Accountant I don’t know that well, he keeps to himself; he always leaves taps running though which really really pisses me off. The Guyanan (formerly referred to as The Brit, however I have since learned he is from Guyana, not Brittain) lives upstairs.

Presently, I am indulging in a little wanton procrastination, when I really should be doing a 2000 word history essay on the Australian History Wars, or doing a linguistics assignment that I haven’t started yet but which is due on Friday. The history essay is a very interesting topic, one that has fascinated me even before I began this course, although I fear the essay doesn’t quite answer the question. At this late stage I just say “fuck it”. As long as I pass.

In other news, there is a very good chance I will be moving out of home next year! The university has a number of terrace houses in Darlington and Forest Lodge (a totally disingenuously named suburb; there are probably no lodges and definitely no forests within its boundaries). It looks like, with the help of the inheritance from Pop’s estate, Dad is prepared to support me next year while I’m 24, until I can qualify for Austudy when I turn 25. We discussed it at length in the car the other day and nutted out several possible scenarios, all with a bare minimum of convincing argument on my part. We haven’t let Mum in on it yet—that is a task for next week when I have more time to argue—but I’m sure once I point out that it will mean better health due to a drastic cut in commuting and the ability to pick up an extra subject with the time saved in transit, that she will (probably begrudgingly) see the merit in the plan.

Speaking of Pop, we have been involved in the somewhat sombre exercise of readying his home for auction, which will happen on the 27th of October. Dad is on holidays at the moment, so he’s been going down every day to clear things out (Mum thinks I am a hoarder, but Pop is the king) and fixing little bits and pieces to get the house ready. I haven’t had a chance to help out because of the drug debacle, gastro and homework but next week I plan on going down to take some photos and old letters for the family history project my cousin Damien and I are working on. It will be a difficult day on the 27th.

And lastly, I was able to attend the mentor training day on Saturday. It was a great day; I met lots of great people and enjoyed myself, despite being on a strict sao and vegemite diet (mandated by Dr Mum) while everyone else enjoyed really yummy looking sandwiches.

So that’s it for now. I think I better get back to the history stuff, before it gets any later and I end up staying up late, again. Hopefully next week I can write the next installment of A history of us.