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Rage Against Suburban Zombie-ism Tuesday, October 14, 2008  Fleeing The Hand That FeedsI was walking in an exclusive Toronto neighbour when I decided to call up a friend. He lived nearby in a gorgeous house. The space exceeds his needs. Considering the location, location, location, my rough estimate would be close to 1mil. In addition, his pad is surprisingly tastefully in its furnishings for an early-30s. Non-Ikea, not that there's anything wrong with that. It's just that the decor is incredibly "put together" for someone who's totally chill, down to earth, t-shirt/jeans kinda guy. I'm not gonna explain any further for the sake of digging a deeper hole. Plus, I think you get the picture! Anyway, I told him that I was gonna be in his area for a while and suggested that we should get together. To my shock, he told me that he had moved outta his fashionable digs + was about the quit his job. Instead of trading up, he was trading down...town. (Background: Friend works for his dad's company, house actually belongs to pops, & his attitude is far from being that of a spoiled child.) Despite the level of difficulty, I concluded that he was trying to cut the apron strings, reclaim his independence, find his own voice, etc. It was a commendable act. Hope it lasts. Labels: cutting the apron strings biting the hand that feeds posted by Stephania at 10:56 pm |
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