Good morning blog readers, hope everyone had a safe and happy fourth of July, I know I did. I complain a lot about the pit falls of being in your twenties but it’s hard to argue the benefits when it comes to fun national holidays like the 4th of July (Halloween, however, is a different story but I digress)! Since this blog is supposed to be an open outlet for me to
grip vent voice a popular opinion I’m going to use only my third post to talk about one of the most sucky things about being in your twenties and that’s living with your parents. No other generation before us has ever faced an economy and job market quiet like ours. It’s a plethora of catch 22’s and unfortunate circumstances that leads us to bunk up in our childhood bedrooms long after our expiration date. If I made a visual of how this exactly transpires it would look something like this:
Can’t move out until —-> good credit
Can’t get good credit until —–> you have a credit card
Can’t get a credit card until —-> you prove financial independence
Can’t prove you’re financial independent until —–> you move out
… and thus it starts all over again in a frustrating circle until you give up and except that you’re going to have to live with your parents for the rest of you life. God Damnit! There are other factors too, of course. I mean you have to have a stable job with some sort of livable income and last time I checked an undergraduate degree qualifies you for exactly nothing but cost an arm and a leg. Welcome to $11 dollars an hour and waitressing until that “perfect” job comes around and/or you finish grad school at
I mean there are plenty of perks to it, don’t get me wrong, the most obvious being that you probably don’t have to pay rent. And believe you me, I’m grateful that parents let us live with them so that the homeless population doesn’t triple. Plus, now I can spend my barely there paycheck on things like
therapy other bills. Sometimes this even includes free meals and obviously free fully furnished living but lets face it, no one dreams of living with their parents during the “prime” when they could be, you know, doing whatever the f&%! they want. Yet, parents look at this time in life as if you’ve somehow managed to do this on purpose to thwart them. I’m pretty sure they’ve bumped their heads because every kid from the age of fourteen on dreams of one day being free of these mini dictators, but no instead our plan this whole time was to mooch off you forever so you can tell us how loud we can have the TV. You figured us out, thanks economy.
So how do we, as grown man/women children get it together and move out? Well if I had the answer to that I wouldn’t be living in parents house now would I? For now I’ll just stare out an open window and dream of a day when I can leave dishes in the sink for more than two hours. Happy hunting.