Suburban hell

I live in suburban hell. And not just any suburban hell, but a wealthy suburban hell.

I'm 22 and I live in an apartment building full of families and screaming children who test their lung capacity until eleven o'clock at night.

Now, the good thing about this is knowing that if I want to stay home and watch a movie while curled up on the couch on a saturday night, my community supports that. The downside is, I feel like I'm old, like I should have a family already, complete with the kids, a house and a soccer mom h2 or station wagon (high-end of course).

I am obsessed with housing prices, buying houses, renting houses, property values, etc which could stem from two different reasons: 1) my father is a realtor/broker and has been since I've been alive, so it may come naturally or, 2) I have an unhealthy habit of striving to become better (by buying a better house at a lower price) than my brother/ B's cousin. The latter, of course, is the suburbia in me talking.

Unfortunately, I cannot afford a house at this moment in time, at least not in the suburbia where we reside. Housing prices are out of control, but if we moved, ah yes, to a different city, state or even nation, we could afford almost any house our hearts desired. But moving is out of the question. B loves it here and he will not let California defeat him.

"Why don't we move to southern california?" I ask, "it is a little cheaper than here."

He'll think about it, he says. He would want to visit first. Well of course, I say. But we live in the most expensive area in the whole state.

Once you find yourself in suburbia, you'll find you are trapped, saying things like, "we can't move. Our lives are here, our jobs, our suburbia friends..." And thats the thing about lives, once you have one, it's so hard to start a new one, especially outside of suburbia.

I mentioned berkeley. I work there, the commute for B would be about 20 minutes and we could become tourists in our own city. SF is just a bridge away and there is always something to do. Stores and restaurants don't close at nine o'clock in the evening on a saturday in berkeley or SF. The fun is just beginning at that hour.

but after all this, I think about my job and the early hours and the responsiblity I have now to a worldwide corporation. I remember that they want to make my position permanent, which could ensure my job and my salary for five, ten years to come. I remember that I am not eighteen anymore, and I won't get any younger. I have to remind myself that this is all part of growing up and that I am so lucky to be where I am, doing what I do, making the kind of money I do.

Right now, this is where we are, trapped in suburbia, which is only a hop, skip and a jump from the big city. This might be the place where I can experience the best of both worlds, or where I'll be trapped forever.

Trapped in a suburbia hell, and I'm only 22.

It's only gonna get worse isn't it?