Although I rent my apartment in Brooklyn, I do not have a home. My parents are still my home. I am part of a vast generation of people who perpetually live as if they just graduated from college. I am 38. I wear a backpack and I have no savings. I console myself with the thought that people live longer now, so it makes sense that some of us may take longer to mature.

asphalteden:

disorganization:

asphalteden:

youmightfindyourself:

—JONATHAN AMES (via tobia / NYTimes)

I bought my house in 2003 and somehow it remains my home. My parents live fifteen minutes away from me, and on some days it seems too close. I am part of a vaster generation of people who graduated college and decided to make decisions they had to live with, and, thus, lived with those decisions. I am thirty-two. I bought my house when I was twenty-six, I started working at my current job at age twenty-three. I wear jeans and cords to work and I have a savings account, a 401(k), and inherited investments that I hope to be able to retire on in, if not luxury, then humble comfort. I console myself with the thought that people live longer now, so it makes sense that I will master adulthood in time to enjoy and appreciate the better part of it.

I’m afraid that I have to count myself amongst the vast generation of broke renters with no savings and no home, but for very different reasons. I haven’t lived at home since I was 17, and I don’t rely on my parents. My 401(k) is a travesty and I’m deeply in debt from graduate school, which for some reason I thought would help me with entry into a more financially secure adult world (it hasn’t, and it likely won’t). I had a career in newspapers and publishing before I went to graduate school, and have been working full-time since the age of 21. Now I’m 32 and I wear black suits and heels purchased at Target to work, because I’ve had to take government and corporate jobs that I don’t like to pay the (considerable) bills. I don’t get paid as much as male co-workers despite the fact that I take on more responsibilities. However, I’m glad that I went into library science, because I can work in a library until I drop dead of old age. I don’t even consider retirement because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to retire. There is no end in sight. I take care of myself because no one else does, even though it’s difficult at times. I’ve been independent for a long time. I am very much an adult, and most days, I feel every year. But I’m practically destitute. It can’t really be helped, in this day and age.

but what if libraries disappear? :(

it would be interesting to see a lot of paragraphs like these, for the good and ills that we might discover

 but what if libraries disappear? :(

that’s why I also learned how to build databases and websites :)

I think there are a lot of different realities that come with adulthood. in the end, it all amounts to being mature and able to take care of yourself. I know I come off a little defensive in the paragraph above, but it’s not defense — it’s well-earned pride. I’m proud that I work hard and am independent. I don’t want to feel sorry for myself and obsess over things that I don’t have because I’m working toward those things right now. it would be nice if I got a little more respect and financial reward out of it at the moment, but I think that will come too, I hope, in time.

Although I rent my apartment in Brooklyn, I do not have a home. My parents are still my home. I am part of a vast generation of people who perpetually live as if they just graduated from college. I am 38. I wear a backpack and I have no savings. I console myself with the thought that people live longer now, so it makes sense that some of us may take longer to mature.

asphalteden:

youmightfindyourself:

—JONATHAN AMES (via tobia / NYTimes)

I bought my house in 2003 and somehow it remains my home. My parents live fifteen minutes away from me, and on some days it seems too close. I am part of a vaster generation of people who graduated college and decided to make decisions they had to live with, and, thus, lived with those decisions. I am thirty-two. I bought my house when I was twenty-six, I started working at my current job at age twenty-three. I wear jeans and cords to work and I have a savings account, a 401(k), and inherited investments that I hope to be able to retire on in, if not luxury, then humble comfort. I console myself with the thought that people live longer now, so it makes sense that I will master adulthood in time to enjoy and appreciate the better part of it.

I’m afraid that I have to count myself amongst the vast generation of broke renters with no savings and no home, but for very different reasons. I haven’t lived at home since I was 17, and I don’t rely on my parents. My 401(k) is a travesty and I’m deeply in debt from graduate school, which for some reason I thought would help me with entry into a more financially secure adult world (it hasn’t, and it likely won’t). I had a career in newspapers and publishing before I went to graduate school, and have been working full-time since the age of 21. Now I’m 32 and I wear black suits and heels purchased at Target to work, because I’ve had to take government and corporate jobs that I don’t like to pay the (considerable) bills. I don’t get paid as much as male co-workers despite the fact that I take on more responsibilities. However, I’m glad that I went into library science, because I can work in a library until I drop dead of old age. I don’t even consider retirement because I don’t think I’ll ever be able to retire. There is no end in sight. I take care of myself because no one else does, even though it’s difficult at times. I’ve been independent for a long time. I am very much an adult, and most days, I feel every year. But I’m practically destitute. It can’t really be helped, in this day and age.