Reason Not to Live With Your Parents: #4

That Damn Computer

My parents use computers. They aren't relics of the 60s. Fuck - they both have iPads while I still slog on with a PC. But despite their acceptance of computer technology into the fold of their own lives, cancelling their newspaper subscription in favour of internet news sources, for instance, they still look on young peoples' dependence with disdain.

Ok, my computer dependence, in particular.

This is really an extension of Reason #2 - I can spend your time better. My parents labour under the assumption that, if I'm sitting at my laptop, I'm not really doing anything. Particularly when contrasted with my younger brother, also living at home, who spends very little time on the computer, my parents just can't see why I return to my computer whenever I have a free instant. I can't possibly be doing anything important. Having seen me waste my youth on ICQ, webpages of dancing hamsters and dead stickmen, and that animated rabbit that chased your mouse, they just assumed the internet continues to be a way I procrastinate doing useful things.  And, let's be honest, it's not an entirely groundless assumption.

But, accepting all the ways that Facebook or Twitter are used for inane, time-filling purposes, even those sites serve practical purposes. Facebook, after all, started as a networking site, and I hardly use it for anything other than staying in touch with long-distance friends. I have most recently been chatting with other law school hopefuls, some of whom I haven't otherwise spoken to for years. And for every Proenza Schouler or ManRepeller tweet I check out, I read a New Yorker article.

And these are pure "time wasting" websites - let's not forget the pure pragmatic purposes I put my computer to. Online banking, checking my work schedule, and online law school applications all require a fair amount of time on this little machine. And they are essential chores which can be accomplished no other way. 

Then again, I have been playing the Sims. Oh for shame.

Reason Not to Live With Your Parents: # 3

"So, what exactly happens if you don't do well on your LSATs?"


"Uh, well mum, I don't get into Law School. And I continue waitressing and living at home with you and dad and my cat until my wounded pride heals enough for me to write them again and Reapply."

No one can doubt your abilities and throw your future into a shadowy abyss quite like your parents can.

Reason Not to Live With Your Parents: #2

"You're not doing anything today, right?"

The question that does not get asked in my house. It is just the assumption made. Because if I don't have work and I haven't made plans with my friends then I must be available at their beck and call (and I should note here, only plans which my parents find valid are considered binding. Read; gym dates can be rearranged). Studying? Working out? Heaven forbid, blogging? These things are all irrelevant if one parent or the other thinks they have a legitimate claim to my time. My mother was actually irritated that my work schedule was such that I only had one full day to help her run errands this week. And I should emphasize that dropping my frivolous non-plans occurs based on if they think they have a legitimate claim to my time, not whether any rational person would.

Example a)
     After a weekend of 5:00 am wakeups, Monday afternoon rolls around and I take a much deserved nap. My mum calls, wakes me up, asks me to defrost fish. I go promptly back to sleep, and my cell phone becomes buried by my ample array of pillows. This is crucial here, because if you own an iphone, you will know that the slightest obstruction of the speaker muffles the ringer with astonishing efficacy. So when my dad calls, I don't answer. Until, of course, he's called three times, and I've managed to track down the source of the mysterious vibrations in my bed. He needs me to read him his Aeroplan card number, which was left on his dresser. And he's angry with me that I haven't made myself available so as to do this. "You answered when your mother called. Why the hell are you so tired anyway??"

Justifying my energy levels and sleeping habits because someone forgot something they needed and it lies within my immediate vicinity... not really my thing.

Only a parent would assume that your mere existence entitles them to your help. And I am not so thankless as to say that it doesn't - as far as I'm concerned, it has to be one of the greatest incentives to having children, the production of little future slaves. But it is the assumption that my plans are either non-existent, irrelevant or flexible if they are inconvenient to the aims of either parent. If I'm given a days notice that "Sydney, we need to do _____________ tomorrow," I will be slightly more amenable than when I'm told, mid-To Do-list-construction, that I am at the whim of whoever for the day.