A Brother Abroad

I went to Italy once (okay, twice).
But because my brother just left and hasn't posted any pictures, I had to improvise. I tried.

In between the rigorous months of college course-work and party-marathons for those living in their wonder years, my roommates and I add a fourth roommate to the mix (or fifth, if you count my dog as the fourth roommate.) It is obvious when this fourth roommate returns home: there are empty cereal bowls left on the floor beside the couch, every single light in the house is turned out, the washer/dryers have to run every day to accommodate the massive influx of dirty clothing, and all of the snacks in our house miraculously disappear in a matter of hours. I suppose if this semi-permanent house-guest were not my brother, it would be exponentially more intolerable to deal with his seemingly lackadaisical (borderline inconsiderate) habits.

But alas, during the winter months, he crawls back home, forced to relinquish the inflated sense of independence that so many college students revel in while living at school, and not-so-seamlessly assimilates back into parent-supervised suburban life. The roomies and I live a quiet life, used to going to bed early (we're all old people), keeping TV volume at an all-time low and content with low-maintenance dinners. But when #4 returns, the house somehow goes from quiet to loud and empty to full -- even though we're only housing an extra body. Although the roomies and I are generally drama-free (for the most part), the return of #4 brings with it a bit of a tumultuous transition as we can no longer expect to go to bed at 9:30PM without someone still being up and about in the house. Despite this minor commotion, within a week or two, our trio becomes a regular quartet and it's as if my dearest brother never left. 

Until now. My brother is embarking on what nowadays seems like a regular rite-of-passage for most privileged college folk -- he is studying abroad. After a bit of negotiating with the parents, they agreed that it would be a great opportunity and he was off to Rome for the semester. But we had just started to get used to him being home! What will now happen to our little, dysfunctional family unit sans our semi-permanent house guest?

Well, we'll do what we always do, except this time, it is different. Before, my brother was a mere twenty minutes away -- easily accessible whenever my mom had a hankering for doing some extra laundry or when my brother needed to spend some quality time with everyone's favorite roommate (my dog, naturally).Now, we're battling a six-hour time difference in order to communicate and I'm left to deal with my mother's reverse homesickness (she misses him. A lot already). A semester ago, we could check in with him with a quick text or just tune in to the ol' college gossip mill (I know people). My spy-system does not stretch all the way to Italy. Instead, we have to rely on his anecdotal emails and infrequent tweets from afar in order to gain a little insight into what is arguably one of the most important, life-changing and exciting experiences he'll have as a young adult. Strange, right?

As an older sister, it seems as though whenever I'm stuck under the same roof as my brother we constantly bicker and butt-heads, but as soon as we're separated and given the choice to interact with each other, we develop a new-found, mutual appreciation and respect for each other. I will admit this though (and since he doesn't read my blog, I think I'm safe): the house will be a lot less fun, lively and colorful without him around for the next four months. We won't be able to have a surprise visit from him (accompanied by the depletion of our liquor cabinet and supply of Wheat Thins) anytime soon. But we'll be the ones sitting around bored and missing this tornado of tenacity and spontaneity, while he gets to explore the world. I'm hoping that my brother will return at the end of the semester with great memories, valuable experiences and hopefully, a better understanding of the world around him. Fingers crossed that he will also learn to consistently put his dirty dishes in the dishwasher, and maybe even gain a better appreciation for his other three roommates.

Life with My "Roomies"

I always find myself telling people stories about my roommates. I have two roommates -- and they're pretty fun, as well as also being helpful, generous and smart. One of my favorite anecdotes I like to share is the one where I found my two roommates spooning in my living room while watching the Kardashians. To most people, this seems odd. Not just because people still actually watch the Kardashians, but because I walked in on my roommates spooning. Frankly, I'm glad that walking in on them spooning is the most intimacy I've had to witness. For those of you who are uninformed of my current living arrangements  I will admit it: I live with my parents.

This living arrangement is one that's met with divided reaction, by the general public and myself alike. Society has ingrained into us that once you're done with school - whether it be high school or higher education - you now must move out and forge an independent life in separate living quarters from your parents or guardians. In doing this, you have made the complete transition into adulthood and can now embark on that adult life free of supervision, curfews and your mom folding your underwear. Unfortunately, with the current economic climate and the overwhelming necessity for student loans, this rite of passage is being delayed by many fellow  post-grad adults. How are we expected to afford to live in an apartment paying hundreds of dollars (assuming you can find roommates) when you've also got hundreds of dollars going towards that education of yours -- you've got the diploma stashed away somewhere under your bed to prove it, I bet?

The fact of the matter is: many of us can't. I know that I certainly can't afford to pay for rent with my entry-level income, let alone furnish that shabby apartment, drive a car and pay off any accumulated debt. What about food, you may ask? Forget that. My private college education fed my soul, so certainly, that should be enough to keep my hunger at bay. What about having a social life -- it does cost to go out, you know? Well, if I can't get free drinks, then I'll just have to be satisfied with a non-existent social life because I can't afford a $10 cover charge and a $10 beer. 

I realize that this may seem overdramatic. And to a certain extent, it is. Plenty of recent grads find a way to make it work and thrive, even with a limited budget. However, I find myself asking the following question (and I know many other people have asked the same thing) as a twenty-something living in her childhood home: does living with our parents stunt our transition into adulthood or can it be seen as a very strategic, adult decision being that it is fiscally responsible?

My life at home is pretty cushy, I will admit. My parents don't charge me rent or ask me to pay for food. My mom still does my laundry and packs me a lunch for work (the shame is overwhelming even as a type this). My dad will bring my car to get gas if I'm feeling too lazy (although, I do give him money to pay for it!) or pick up a prescription for me at CVS. And on top of all of that, they're fun to be around. I go out to dinner with them, we watch TV together, and we share many a laugh over the funny things that my dog does. But in the midst of all of this, I wonder if I am regressing towards my childish ways.

I have a full-time job equipped with benefits and a 401K. I commute into Boston (about 1.5 hours each way). I have to navigate around my own schedule, balancing work, running my errands, seeing friends, etc. But that still doesn't mitigate the reality that I am living with my parents. I am not embarrassed that I live with my parents, though. Since graduating last December, I have saved up a considerable amount of money and have been able to contribute more money towards paying off my car loan. I am trying to set myself up to be successful once I do leave the nest, so that I don't have to come fumbling back, hands outstretched begging for money and for my mom to separate my lights and darks.

I like to think that I am still facing adult problems and have an adult life -- but it is a modified version of the stereotypical post-grad life of ten, even five years ago, when jobs were a guarantee post-college and debt wasn't necessarily so overwhelming. I do want to move out of my house eventually, but I want to do so at a time where I feel as though I am more financially stable. Does that make me childish? Or does that mean I am making an adult and responsible decision?

For now, I'm going to enjoy the perks of living at home and continuing to save my money as I prepare for my next big adult steps. I might as well enjoy it while I can and savor this special "roommate" time. Besides, I'm pretty sure my "roommates" love having me home: who doesn't love to do an extra load of laundry!