https://www.ronnipedersen.com/ypysti/8968 The term “boomerang” doesn’t just refer to a piece of sports equipment or a sister channel of Cartoon Network that plays reruns of “The Flintstones.” Today, “boomerang” is what my fellow Generation Y-ers have to endure after they graduate from college. One minute, they’re far, far away from home in the gated communities we call “college,” and before they can blink, they’re handed a piece of heavy paper delicately decorated in calligraphy, which serves as their ticket back to sleeping on the second floor of their cape-style houses in their hometown.
rencontre femme a nantes The house I lived in was the house that built me. Miranda Lambert doesn’t lie. But I’ve been fortunate enough to have the experience of attending college in the greatest city on earth (other than Paris) (which, by the way, I’m working on) and while it increases judgment among many attributes, it would be rude of me to take this opportunity for granted.
http://kopuamonastery.org.nz/felmor/7777 I don’t know what any of my situations will be when I graduate, whether it be socially or professionally. But what I may not be able to avoid is this boomerang effect. While many of my high school classmates may be excited to return home after our college graduations, it’s not the most appealing to me. What are my benefits? Mom cooks, does the laundry, and pays for my Starbucks. And I can go to the mall.
chloroquine tablet for sale On one hand, sure, that’s all great. But from what I’ve experienced from going from living at home last summer to now living in NYC for this summer is that the boomerang may not be positive for my transition into true adulthood. It holds me back from growing – and I’ve grown so much this year. I don’t want to go back.
I’m used to cooking, doing my own laundry, and cleaning my own apartment. It’s almost second nature to me now. Yes, it may just be at the collegiate level as opposed to the “real world” level, like paying rent and electric bills (and credit card bills – *shudder*), but I think that I have a leg up on anyone that isn’t in my shoes and living here at 20 years old.
I love home. Home is great. But this room that I’m sitting in now that looks over a street in Chelsea has also become home to me. And when your apartment feels like home, you know you’re heading in the right direction. No boomeranging here, but maybe archery. I’m getting closer to the bullseye.