Holy cow...
Threads like this one are why I joined this site. I'm 24 myself, so it's an eye-opener for me to read some of this advice. I'm still in school working on my B.S, and I only work part time. I read about guys buying houses in their late 20's to early 30's, and I feel so far behind the curve

I won't even be finished with my bachelor's degree until I'm 27.
There is some good news: This time next year, I'll be wrapping up a certificate program in healthcare informatics, which will allow me to land a much better job than my current one.
I wasn't born lucky, or rich, it was not an easy life at first. I grew up in a dangerous neighborhood until my mother's father died in 1996. We then moved as a family, my parents and brother, to a beautiful home in Iowa. My father managed a limosine service, and my mother worked in manufacturing. Unfortunately, they lived beyond their means, and the home was foreclosed. We moved to Florida in April of 2001. My father was in poor health as a non-compliant diabetic, who racked up $1 million in medical expenses over the course of 3 years. Luckily my mother had excellent health insurance, but it didnt cover everything. The move to FL cost her a $50k per year job, and put her into waitressing at a local village inn. I was too young to legally work, so I did whatever odd jobs I could to make some extra cash.
At one time, I spent hours in the florida sun helping an elderly neighbor by pulling weeds and taking out trash, scrubbing floors, etc. I was paid $20, and I had squandered my life "savings" at the time, which was $7. I gave it to my mother to buy groceries. My father had other plans, he bought a carton of marlboro reds, soft pack IIRC.
My father died in 2006, right around the time my mother was diagnosed with osteo and rheumatoid arthritis. I could move out on my own if I wanted with my current income, but I want to stay and help her. She's worked tirelessly to keep us afloat as a family for 30 years. I've watched the rough times take their toll on her; her hair is gray and thin, her movements gradually slowing, especially in her hands. I was not highly privelaged as a child, but I was never homeless and I got to eat. There were always presents under the tree.
All this talk about saving money, but she wants to go to Rome before she loses the use of her hands. I'll work three jobs if I have to, I'll be goddamned if I don't make it happen for her. I owe it to her.
I'll admit that I'm fighting back tears as I write this. It's not working well, and I'm not ashamed.