Im not going to talk about how long it's been.

I'm getting laid off and moving in with my parents.

Sound familiar? Because if it doesn't, get ready to start hearing or singing this very same tune, my friends. Filial piety isn't just for the Chang's down the street, anymore. No, four generations under one roof? Sounds like the first mildly intelligent fiscal decision a few of my friends and I have made, as of recent. But I won't bore you with the ancient practice of xiao shun and the economical advantage of communal living. Instead, let's address why we don't want to move home.

For many, I'm assuming, just having one of these incidents occur within any miniscule time frame, could be, shall we say, along the lines of some sort of P.O.W torture tactic involving sharpened bamboo rods and that plushy pink no no spot under your fingernails. Not to say I'm lacking in a minor a blow to my ego, or perspective, for that matter. I'm only keenly aware that I'm riding solo on the happy train to Homesweethomesville, USA. People have no interest in moving back into their time capsules, as fabulously furnished as they may be. What? Oh, so now that your some big shot marketing guru, you're just too cool for that crackly Star Wars wallpaper you just HAD TO HAVE on your fifth birthday? The one that now looks as though it has somehow miraculously started acquiring normal bodily functions, which has inevitably left a caramel brown stain for your ocular and oflactory pleasure? You mean you're actually longing for the days of old when your studio's walk in closet allowed you to brilliantly peruse what sharp shooter business ensemble you'd be wearing that day? And no doubt without having the stringy, dangly light hit you in the back of the head whilst you valiantly come to the rescue of your faithful Brooks Bros. crisp, dress shirt, now firmly within the fierce clutches of the splintered wooden bar between your (once) boss collection of Members Only jackets and frayed camouflage cargo pants that provided a non-existent amount of functionality. You're too good for the camos?

No, I get it. I mean, I get that just to survive the basic formalities of most holiday familial get-togethers requires most of us to adhere to a routine combination of unfailing diplomacy, insurmountable bundles of patience and one to two mild sedatives. I mean, who honestly remembers a time when we all organically hung out with each other?Cousin Jimmy's on anti-d's for that uniquely devastating breakup with his 17th girlfriend, what's her name that we all loved so much, uncle Tom's on Ambien due to a 30 year morning regimen of four cups of instant coffee that would leave him feeling so artificially elated and inspired, he would need 16 more cups to get him through the rest of his long listed day. Sis, bro and 50% of the American population are on Adderall, because we all know if they weren't, God knows they'd all start resembling the likes of Jabba the Hut from their insane lack of motivation to get up any earlier than the ungodly hour of 4pm with the only purpose of moving their extremities to prevent bedsores.


I'm not saying coming home is a walk in Central Park by any means, but I do thoroughly enjoy my parents. No matter who you are, where you came from, what your living situation is, after all the material nonsense, the food and the chaos, we're all just there to take care of one another. I'm so glad I've been able to come home so my parents and I can "take care" with one another. It not only makes sense for my pocketbook, but it makes sense to my soul. I've found myself to be quite the hopeless romantic in numerous facets of my life, this time and space is allowing me to really re-connect with hopes that were once lost. The limits we put on ourselves when we become blind, deaf and dumb in our day to day routines has had a colander-like effect on those passions that define who we are, the ones that tug and pull at our heart strings when we are reminded that they haven't been digested with the other shortly-lived (edible) pleasures, the ones that, when provoked, never let us escape without a tear or two. This time in my life is going to give me options I never allowed myself to consider within the last few years. Where do I go? What do I do? What areas of my life need sharpening? What areas of myself need to be broken in? This is a time to take advantage of my small perspective and broaden it. Get out, get dirty, get hopelessly uncomfortable. Get to the bottom of who I am, who I want to be and reward myself if and when that changes. To remember to celebrate "me" when my evolution becomes apparent and when it does, remind others to do the same. Who says financial peril inhibits your peace of mind? Who says you'll never be the master of your own destiny? Rigid schedules and gradually acquired complacency are among my greatest fears.