Right, so, everyone knows that LiL is full of millennials. And basically, the internet is chock-full of millennials, because we all have such narcissistic important things to say and stunningly obvious and completely unoriginal great reflections on the world around us, starting with our favorite topic: childhood and the 1990s. And why should I be an exception? And thus I give you Exhibit A (or, the only exhibit of this post, and the only reason I had for posting today… but you still better love it.)
Totally found this in our files at work on Friday. Totally convinced my coworkers that I didn’t know what this “weird small plastic square” did. It was beautiful.
We tend to have running emails back and forth during the work week, and yesterday was no exception. However, the email chain and chats proved to much more entertaining than usual, and most definitely worthy of sharing on Life in Labels.
Denise: Tell me a story. Blerg, in a mood.
Emily: Well, I don’t really have a good story… but I have another underwear story, like the time I told you about dropping my underwear on 7th street… except this time, I went to pull my sunglasses out of my work bag and they brought a forgotten pair of spare underwear with them onto 13th street near Metro Center…. I think I just have bad undergarment luck. Another funny thing to read right now is the Bachelor Pad recap from last night, which includes this brilliant quote: “Just because we’re not emotional alcoholics who run around here hammered, crying about our feelings… doesn’t mean we don’t want this more than anybody.”
Emily: (5 minutes later) Here is a story via gchat about how we are not married, haha:
Lauren: your table [at my wedding this weekend] is going to be so freaking fun… so don’t be surprised if you find me trying to sneak over there often
Me: hahahahaha… are you allowed to tell me who it is? (although i can probably hazard a guess)
Lauren: hahaha, I can tell you. I just submitted the final seating arrangement to the woman doing the escort card templates, so there’s no going back now!
Me: ahhh it’s so real!!!
Lauren: it’s you, Denise, Declan & Becca, Emily & John, Nick & Emily, and Katie and her fiance
Me: hahaha Denise and I are dates.
Lauren: hahaha, I guess it did work out that way
Denise: HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA I JUST LOL’D and I don’t care which gov employees heard me.That. Is. Great.Well, at least Declan isn’t married, but still. Can we change our class rings to our left hands and pretend our husbands are in the military…or astronauts? But seriously, we’re 24. How is it that we’ve already reached the point of feeling like Bridget Jones. This is unacceptable. I blame the world.
Emily: I blame your Catholic friends.
Denise: Yeah, me too.
Emily: Well at least my mom is DD’ing us like the children that we are, so we can drink our feelings. HAHA.
From: Denise To: Emily, Lauren, Nick, Declan Subject: Fwd: Re: Tell me a story Message: Had to forward this. Too funny. Plus, we all obviously need to prep for the epic-ness that will be this weekend. We’re officially sitting at the cool kids table. Score. Also, to make it easier on everyone, Emily and I will each pretend to have astronaut husbands.
Emily: (Replying all) Thank you, Denise. I’m so glad that you included our earlier chain about my undergarments for everyone’s reading pleasure as well.
Denise: (Replying all) Oh yeah, you know. Thought it would add some context. But seriously, I’m sorry. And laughing. But mostly sorry.
As Denise already knows, I have recently taken a considerable liking to all things documentary. I mean, it’s always been there – but recently, my love for non-fiction has multiplied exponentially. This has resulted in hours upon hours of my life being devoted to obscure yet fascinating topics. Call me maybe crazy, but I think sometimes this is how I make up for not being in school anymore. I don’t have a strong desire to pursue another degree yet, but I still am fascinated by the exploration of new or different knowledge, and I like to think that I do more than just read Suri’s Burn Bookhighly intellectual material on a daily basis.
So what’s been on my playlist recently? I’m so glad you asked! Here, let me give you my unsolicited documentary reviews:
One week, my friend Steve asked what I had done the previous weekend. I told him that Denise and I spent Saturday night watching a movie about the home-birthing movement, including detailed footage of Ricki Lake giving birth. In her bathtub.
I thought he was going to vomit, but he was too busy picking his jaw up off the ground to do that.
And thus began the documentary journey (which Denise has accompanied me on for a good portion of the way). The Business of Being Born is actually a great example of why I have been enthralled with documentaries – sometimes they are a bit one-sided, a bit intense, a bit opinionated – but they often expose you to a completely new topic or way of thinking. For me, I had always assumed that giving birth meant hospitals and epidurals and the worst pain of your life (that I used to openly wish I would black out through). This film focused on the experience of birth, good and bad, and how different women elect different ways to plan how they want to experience the time with their child. Directly afterward, swooning from the descriptions of unique bonding and euphoric accomplishment that comes from having a home birth (plus a lot of wine), I was convinced that I, too, could give birth in my bathtub one day, while happily munching on granola and doing hynobirthing breathing techniques with my hip-yet-financially-stable-enough-to-provide-a-very-plush-version-of-this-experience-and-completely-emotionally-comfortable-with-witnessing-me-drop-a-baby-out husband. In the weeks since, I have definitely scaled back a bit on these expectations and desires for a birth experience (or having one at all). But yes, I do have a new appreciation for how giving birth is more than just a means to an end.
This was no surprise. You think New York is crazy. You think parents in New York are crazy. You think children in New York are crazy. You think Americans will pay for anything. You think that the pressure to attend the right school is starting earlier than ever. This confirms everything. Denise and I were riveted/disgusted/shocked.
Next up in our Netflix cue was this film about the mass games in North Korea. Denise gets credit for finding this one – and I get demerits for not even knowing what the mass games were before seeing this. Being that it’s the Olympics season right now, this does seem pretty appropriate in contrast (pardon the poor quality video):
I will never eat chicken again. Actually, that is a lie. But really, I will never, ever eat non-organic meat ever again. I had one chicken nugget the other week and literally had to choke back my gag reflex. Anyone who knows me well, knows that my ridiculous sugar addiction will never wane, even with dark and twisty truths about high fructose corn syrup that I now know. But I have become a full-fledged, unabashed Whole Foods snob.
Who knew that fonts were so complex and fascinating? (okay, maybe the rest of the world knew, and I’m just an ignorant handwriting snob that’s more concerned with the lost art of cursive). I was in NYC this past weekend, and I’m still surprised my friend didn’t hurt me by the end of it for pointing out fonts to her every 1/2 block. Afterward, I also felt much more justified for judging a resume that I once received at work written entirely in Comic Sans (aka the ancient font of angst-ridden, 90s-era tween AIM profiles).
Confession: I fell asleep during the second half of this. But not before I developed a whole new appreciation for street art, and got outside of my bubble of just thinking it was a bunch of hooligan vandals.
Somehow, I convinced my friend to wake up early and go see this yesterday morning at the Lincoln Center with me. And yes – it was SO worth it, especially to see it in the center of such a national magnet for the arts and performance. Although it picks up some fairly stereotypical characters to follow (incredibly wealthy family, helicopter parents, token African orphan refugee), it was incredibly riveting, and the performances were mesmerizing. I have never been coordinated enough to even consider dance, but the expression and emotion conveyed through these stories are accessible to many an audience member.
the most adorably talented 9 year olds ever. I hope they get together and have babies (in 15 years)
Although a friend actually convinced me to go see this, and I had never really listened to the band before (friend, don’t hate me)… it was remarkably enjoyable, beyond the fact that half the content was LCD Soundsystem’s last concert. The film follows the lead singer the morning after he ended the group, on good terms, with a final performance in Madison Square Garden. Normally, when I go to concerts or experience something HUGE, the moment engulfs me and I consider the fact that a unique group has assembled at one moment and one place for a specific cause or celebration or purpose… but often, I don’t think about the what’s next component.
Maybe this is me reading wayyyy too into it (actually, this is definitely reading way too into it), but I think the film addresses that uncomfortable limbo after any climactic event – the incredible investment in the present, the here-and-now, the right-here thrill.. it leaves you reeling afterward. It changes you, but then you are left alone to work through and process that change. There’s an innate sense of what’s next? Maybe I thought more into this because I didn’t have as much investment in the actual characters and band on the screen, but SUAPTH made me think about a lot of other life things as a result. You know those life things – weddings, graduation, moving, accidents, fights, races, wins, losses, births, deaths…
{insert stereotypical juxtapositions of scenarios and universally shared experiences here}
There are these moments when it feels as though the world is around you. Brought together by a mutually shared experience and emotion. And then you wake up the next day… and what’s next?
beat that, life.
Recently my friend shared with me that while attending the wedding of a childhood friend, [the groom] had told her that although he was excited for the wedding day, and for the days that would follow with his new wife, he already looked toward the future and wondered: what’s left? what’s next? The next morning he would wake up and be married; the celebration would be over, his wife had already given birth to their first child – these big life moments would fade into the background and what was left was seemingly ordinary. Just like the lead singer of LCD Soundsystem, he would wake up the morning after a final chapter of sorts. It didn’t end badly, in fact it was one hell of a party. But the new phase of his life he was about to begin was one huge blank canvas, and it was up to him to decide each day what he wanted to do next, and how he wanted that canvas to look. That’s an exciting thing to look forward to, but there’s also uncertainty – if everything is great up to that point, will it continue in greatness? Will it get even better? What if you mess it up? Did you pick the right things to do with your time? The sense of opportunity is at the same time thrilling and terrifying.
what if all that awaits is walking your dog?
Sometimes I think this is where the millennial generation encounters their creation of the quarter life crisis. For a generation that has pushed to achieve so much and experience seemingly endless worlds of opportunity, is there a limit to all of this? Does the increased opportunity mean that we reach the end of our limits faster? What happens when you have to start over? We build and build, racing forward until we can reach no further – and then it ends. And we are left the morning after with just ourselves, our thoughts, and hopefully someone else to share the next journey with.
So that’s enough of that for the day, since my light documentary reviews turned into a beast of thoughts instead. Did you know it’s National Cheesecake Day? I’m off to eat some cheesecake!
Coworker 1: Emily, how what year were you born in again?
Me: 1988.
Coworker 2: So basically, you’re 12 years old.
Me: Noooo I’m twice that now!
Coworker 3: I feel old, I started college in 1992.
Me: I was 4 years old…
Coworker 1: This conversation is over.
When I worked in university development last year, I was surrounded by coworkers who, 80% of the time, fell within roughly five years of my age. I was still on the younger side, but the emotional immaturity and basic incompetence of most made me feel far older and far more superior (yes, I said it).
Welcome to museum development, where 80% of the population is roughly within five years of menopause (before or after, take your pick).
Compared to most in the “millenial” generation, I feel as though I’m less caught up in some of the hullabaloo most of the time. I liked LOLcatz about 4 years after they were cool, I twit only once in a blue moon (and when I am very, very frustrated by the Metro), and I use LinkedIn to stalk donors for work, not to make my own links. It took me six months after moving into my apartment to finally purchase a TV, and I still refuse to get cable or internet service in my apartment because I have found that 95% of the time I don’t really need it.
{Maybe this is just stating how disconnected I am, rather than lapsing in my millenial status.}
Anyways.
Recently, I have discovered an internet phenomenon that I simply can. not. get. enough. of: Memes.
From the weird photos to t-rex drawings to the overly-used gifs from 90s sitcoms, Disney movies, and celebs, I have a weak spot for breaking down in childish giggles at work whenever I read through them. Imagine my dismay when I logged onto my government computer at work today and got a “Rules of the Roadway” interceptions when I tried to visit What Should We Call Me (Never fear, the U.Va version and Greek life one are still alive and kicking on federal hard drives). How dare they take away my one millenial pleasure!
So I resorted to the only thing a millenial could do in this kind of situation: rebel in the most creative, self-centered way possible and CREATE MY OWN MEME (of my dear friend and classmate)… after all, aren’t memes all about me-me-me?*
hello, first hour of my thursday. look at how productive you turned out to be!
I have also decided that this post could be labeled WAY TOO EXCITED FOR FOXFIELD. Or maybe HORSE [RACE] CRAZY. Christmas in April is coming, y’all – and I can’t waittttt! Stay tuned for next week when I elaborate further on my obsession with this one particular tradition….
*please excuse my awful puns this week, my sense of humor has taken a whacky and excruciating twist lately.
The other week, Joceline posed the question to me “What’s better – college dating or real-life dating?” Little did she know, but she had just provided me with food for thought for the next few weeks. As we saw from our mysterious male contributor during Marilyn vs. Jackie Week, the 21st century college scene creates a… *unique* environment in which to meet people. Coupled with the abundance of new methods for talking without actually speaking, and you’ve got a thoroughly overwhelming new world of dating, in comparison to the picket-fenced going steady and uninhibited “free love” of our parents’ generation. Now, that’s not to say that those concepts/people don’t still exist – in fact, I have plenty of friends who are married or in stable long-term relationships. But for the rest of us, the question remains – how do you navigate through all the bullshit to find a gentleman (but not a Gentleman)?! This past January, I turned to online dating, and signed up for OKCupid. My job search was in full swing, and I figured – hey, why not add a more fun search into the mix? A good friend had found her boyfriend (now fiance!!) using the site last summer, and she assured me that, if nothing else, it would at least be a good ego boost. I even coordinated (and commiserated) with my internship supervisor as we set out on parallel journeys – only, she used match.com since, you know, she had a salary and all.
Armed with inspirational success stories, an open mind, and some pepper spray, I dove head-first into the online dating world. 47 random messages, 34 days, 8 email conversations, 3 boys, and 5 dates later…. I found the love of my life was over it. Now, I am by no means bashing online dating – in many ways, I think that that it gets past a lot of the other barriers that 21st century “dating” throws into the mix – reading profiles isn’t Facebook stalking, you clarify expectations upfront (dating? long term? one night?), you can see how people answer a variety of questions before you even meet them (even the hard ones: politics, religion, abortion – you name it!), and best of all, at least for me: you’re allowed to shamelessly judge people.
pretty accurate - except I'm not sorry.
Speaking of judging, let’s take a moment to talk about how people view online dating. Speaking purely from personal experience, I think that my peers hold much less of a stigma against the practice than, say, our parents’ generation. Particularly those moving into postgrad life in new places or simply looking to expand their social reach, online dating offers a different way to meet other people. When I first signed up for OKCupid, I told one friend. After a few weeks, I shared it with my sister and several other friends – all of whom started having the same basic reaction: curiosity. “How does it work? How many people message you? What does he look like? Is everyone a freak? Can I read funny profiles with you?!!” With the introduction of more online dating service, including those that fill new niches like JDate, the stigma has lessened. Our generation relies on the internet for everything else in our lives – why not this?
Parents are a whole different story. In fact, I never even told mine that I had signed up for OKCupid. My childhood was filled with warnings of strangers and chat rooms and grizzly CSI horror stories – and for good reason. I never said the internet was a perfect place, and there certainly isn’t a lie detector attached to these sites – just ask the 5’0″ boy that I met for coffee. For parents, and others, online dating represents an unknown – and to some extent, I have to agree: if you haven’t experienced it, you really can’t fully understand or appreciate it. Online dating means that you’re committing to “the search” – you’re admitting that you are incomplete/unfulfilled/searching and want someone else in your life. Standing in a dive bar with a rail bourbon and your girlfriends, making fun of the men all around you (even if you secretly want to flirt with one of them) – that’s much less commitment.
lies.
In returning to Joce’s original question (college dating vs. real-life dating), I’ve come to see how for me, online dating definitely factored into the experiences I lump together under the “real life” side of things. Upsides? Real dates: dinner, movies, walking around museums. Meeting someone completely new. First kisses that don’t happen in a frat basement or in front of your dorm. Downsides: formalities. Meeting someone completely new. Distance. Unlike college, postgrad life lacks the intimacy and casual settings of seeing a classmate or friend-of-a-friend, or conveniently “running into one another” at the same bars. Friend circles overlap less, and dating takes time – planning, commitment, investment. That’s not to say that it’s not fun, or worth it in the end. And for a lot of millennials, it seems that we have begun pushing toward the idea that it doesn’t matter where you meet someone, or how you meet them – it matters that you met them at all.
Well, it’s my second week as a regular here, and I figured it was about time I started airing my dirty laundry and bad habits, just to test the readership… or, errrr make everyone feel better about their equally bad habits.
Y’all, I am an online shopper.
Now, I know that’s not necessarily uncommon for Millennials to be hooked on online shopping and other new-fangled tricks, but sometimes I wonder if I take it to a new [unhealthy, slightly obsessive] level. So please, feel free to compare yourselves – I’m sure it will just make you feel better. Or, it will make you begin your obsession with all of the shameless online shopping website promotions I’m about to throw in the labelsphere.
One of my online finds. $15 on Etsy, and this is the BACK of the dress. It's awesome.
Etsy.com: manna from heaven. If you haven’t been on Etsy, march your cyberspace bum right over there. Now. Etsy is not just an online shopping site, it’s an experience. Etsy appeals to all different types: soccer moms who want to decorate their homes, college students on a budget, hipsters who don’t want anyone else to have the same things as them, vintage furniture and clothing whores (like myself) who could literally look at pretty things for the rest of eternity, and pretty much anyone who ever longed to be vicariously crafty. Tricky wedding gift dilemma? Go to Etsy. Want to see things arranged by color? Go to Etsy. Need decorating ideas? Etsy.
easily one of my favorite Etsy finds. I'm wearing it right now, actually.
My “Retail” gmail label: embarrassing, yet effective. That’s right, I automatically filter all my retail-related emails (coupons, new lines, promotions, etc.) into a nifty little Retail label on my gmail. I am unwilling to admit to the worldwide web how many retail-related subscriptions I have. Suffice to say, there are several hundred emails in there by the end of each week. Pros: I know about every sale at any store I might even consider shopping at, at any given time. I can also tell when a sale is actually a good sale. Cons: inbox pollution.
Do you like coupons? I do. Never buy anything online again without first google-searching the retailer and “coupon” – free shipping? Um, YES. Extra “member” discount codes? For sure. If you aren’t saving, you’re losing. And that means you aren’t winning.
Online window shopping: the most cathartic retail therapy you will ever find. Sometimes, I play this game. I go to a store online, and I go on a shopping spree. I fill up my basket with anything my little heart could ever desire. Then I look at the total to see how much “happiness” costs that day. Then, I hit “empty cart”. (Okay, sometimes I eliminate a few things and if happiness < $50 and it’s a realllllly bad day, I give in. BUT most of the time I hit empty.) Talk about cathartic. Fill it up, enjoy it. Walk away. Be happy with what you have.
This is where my online shopping “zen” kicks in – sometimes, you just need a break from reality, a little fun. Maybe it’s looking at pretty things on Etsy, or going on an unrealistic shopping spree. Maybe you appreciate the incredible dress you find on sale because you know how much it was before. Or maybe you find something AWESOME for you or a friend. The point is, online shopping isn’t just a bad habit or crazy millennial/20th century over-materialistic phenomenon that drives women (let’s not even start on the gender stereotypes with this) to waste money and time. Sometimes, online shopping is just a much-needed release.
Now, I’m off to shop for an office toaster oven – apparently even my boss knows that I’m a pro when it comes to these things (and maybe I dropped one too many hints about burning my fingers every morning on the janky toaster oven we currently have while trying to fish out my english muffin).
Thank goodness for online shopping, so I can evaluate the pros and cons of ALL toasters. Pro: CAT FACE ON YOUR TOAST! Con: may not appeal to the male population of the office. Or any population other than me.
Sometimes we trip over our labels in newspapers, television, and the blogosphere…
Millennial
On the blog we’ve addressed many stereotypes (both lighthearted and pessimistic) that often come with our generation’s “millennial” label. One of the more popular characterizations attached to our group is that we’re politically inactive. Interestingly, there’s a new organization called Our Time that is trying to unify millennials as a lobbying force AARP style to address issues like student loans, employment, and young entrepreneurship. Check out the link to find out more.
Cat Lady
As our blogger Emily has pointed out, you don’t have to be ashamed of being a “cat lady.” You should flaunt it proudly, no matter your age. The person who drove this car obviously agrees with her…
As this New York Times article points out, many prospective college students struggle over which race to identify with during the admissions office. For these students, checking a box doesn’t represent their identity and they are often torn between what they feel they are and what they think they should say. Denise mentioned this briefly on the blog in her own “hapa” post.
Editor (Grammar Snob)
Life in Labels blogger Lauren is an editor from 9-5 each day and a grammar snob 24/7 (That’s a compliment, Lauren!). The perfectionism she brings to the English language reminds us of the “Alot” monster from one of our favorite blogs, Hyperbole and a Half.
"a lot" = many / "alot" = a fictional, furry monster that is half ewok, half Snuffleupagus. Get it right. (picture credit: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/ )
Catholic
We’ve had two very different posts related to Catholicism (found here and here). Just recently an interesting blog has surfaced called The Catholic Onion which will certainly amuse you if you have any sort of background knowledge in Catholicism. Headlines include “Priest leaves Mass Early to Get Whole Doughnut, Beat Traffic” and “Pope John Paul II Still the Anti-Christ, Evangelical Right Insists.”
The Washington Post wisely printed 35K more editions than usual today. Also, as of 11 a.m., the Newseum’s “Today’s Front Pages” site has become virtually inaccessible due to a crazy but unsurprising surge of traffic. People always hoard headlines during historical moments like these. I remember practically arm wrestling someone in a UVA library for the last hard copy of a November 5th 2008 New York Times (I was victorious.). I’m sure that as I type this, similar incidents are happening around the country.
This time I won’t be scrambling for a newspaper. In fact, last night I acted on my millennial instincts and successfully collected my own historical artifacts via Twitter.
So I did (click to enlarge)…
Just a few hours before I took these screenshots, I was ironically being mocked for my digital habits (You know who you are and don’t you feel silly now?). I’ve heard all the typical criticisms: Twitter ruins your communication skills, Twitter ruins your attention span, Twitter is superficial, Twitter has turned your generation into slacktivists …the list goes on and on. Though I disagree with these doubters, I still understand where they are coming from. A 140-character update in itself isn’t very profound. Then again, each of the above messages wasn’t meant to be read in isolation. Their significance comes when you place the messages in context, read them side-by-side, and watch them spam your computer screen in real time.
Essentially, I experienced last night’s historic news moment in an imagined community. I might not have been in front of the White House, at Ground Zero, or rallying on a college campus in person, but I did witness glimpses of each simultaneously. I had the opportunity to capture both the celebratory and the cautious live reactions from peers, professors, journalists, and organizations.
So yeah, I won’t be fighting you for the last Washington Post at Starbucks…
Earlier this morning I sent out an email to a few family members and shared my screenshots. I also proudly explained that, in the future, when my [hypothetical] children are working on their middle school history projects and are required to ask me where I was when Osama bin Laden died, I’ll just pass along the above visuals and tell them the truth:
“Sweetie, I was on Twitter.” *
Other Twitter Tidbits
It turns out someone unintentionally live blogged the attack on Osama without knowing it. Read the story here.
My appreciation for Twitter has been mentioned several other times on this blog – specifically here and here.
And just for fun…
*To which my dad swiftly replied: “Strategic Planning! Of course, your kids will say that they can’t believe you used anything so “old” as Twitter. What century were you from anyway?!” Well played, father. Well played.
When someone (a.k.a. Denise) posted last week for my birthday and said stalker should be her next label, I thought, “Darling, you don’t even know!”
I’m a huge Internet stalker
and I’m not afraid to admit it.
Disclaimer: I am not one of those people who knows (or even wants to know) the gossip about everyone from their graduating class or follows old college roommate’s relationships. I’m just saying thatif you know where to look, the information’s not hard to find.
I spend an unhealthy amount of time on Facebook, which means (as I’m sure many of you know all too well), that I get bored from reading the same newsfeed items over and over and have to go in search of juicier stuff. Interested to see what people are doing with their lives, I could follow a conversation that two of my high school classmates’ had on each other’s walls. I could look through someone’s profile picture album to see if they still have pictures up from that one relationship that recently ended. And I could at someone’s “info” section to see if they have that one thing the ultimate stalker craves: a blog.
I subscribe to more than a few blogs of acquaintances that I haven’t spoken to in a year or more. Creepy? Maybe. I prefer to see it as … being interested in people. I can’t help it! Blogs (especially the blogs of people I went to BYU with) are ripe with fascinating reading material: how people are decorating/redoing their houses, what they’re naming their babies, and where they’re going on vacation. Frivolous? Yes. Endlessly entertaining? Yes. Quality reading material? No (see this post about being a grammar snob).
Being a stalker pays, too. I once applied for a job under someone who had a rather androgynous first name. Thanks to my friend Google, I found out that she was a woman, and addressed my cover letter accordingly. It turned out that I was grossly under qualified for the job, but the interviewer told me that I got the interview just because I was the only applicant who addressed my cover letter to her as a woman. She was impressed with my research.
When Husband went to a business conference in San Francisco last month, he was staying with his potential boss — someone he’d never met. I was a little worried for him, not to mention curious, so in a few idle minutes at work, I found this guy’s LinkedIn profile, twitter feed, and personal blog. I knew where his wife was from, the names of two of his daughters, and who his favorite sports teams were. After that (plus a creepy email from someone I was working with in Bangladesh), I took greater care to make sure I wasn’t so easy to find on the world wide web.
Social media stalking has turned into an addiction. I love being the first one to know what’s going on. Husband has pretty much stopped asking me “Did you see/hear/know …?” because I’m always a day or two ahead of him. He has, however, played on my need to be in the know to convince me to switch to iPhones on Verizon. I can only hope that I’ll eventually O.D. on Facebook, Twitter, and Google Reader. Maybe then I’ll become one of those “I’m too cool for technology” people.
Earlier this week, I turned 23. I know, I know, a woman never admits her age, but I promise it relates to this post. (It’s actually everything to this post.)
Birthdays usually lead me to think about what I’m doing with my life, and I’m usually shocked when I find out what other people (okay, famous people) accomplished by the time they were my age.
It’s a lot like when Husband finds out that an NBA player is his age… or younger.
This week, without even trying to*, I discovered a few other people who are also 23.
1. Zee Avi**, new favorite artist. (I’m sure you all were into her, like, wayy before it was cool to be into her.)
2. Daniel Rasmussen. I heard about him on the radio this morning. The program was discussing his book American Uprising: The Untold Story of America’s Largest Slave Revolt, which discusses the 1811 slave uprising in New Orleans and how it was subsequently covered up. I thought it was semi-interesting, and was half listening until the interviewer asked Rasmussen how old he was. “I’m 23,” he responded. Turns out the book was originally his thesis at Harvard.
3. Tim Tebow. The first underclassman to receive the Heisman deserves a mention because my older brother lives in Gainesville and is a tad obsessed with Gator football. I don’t really care either way, but he’s 23.
I could go on, but will not–considering that the Internet tells me that other people now aged 23 include Nicole ‘Snooki’ Polizzi, Bow Wow (since when did he drop the “Lil’?”), Aaron Carter, Hillary Duff, Jesse McCartney, and Ke$ha. That’s a lot of eye-roll worthy celebrity-ness concentrated in one age.
I’m just trying to say that there are a lot of people out there who have accomplished a lot by age 23. And also that Joceline is apparently the only one of us who has time to become someone preteens drool over.
* Okay, maybe a little
** Upon further research, Zee Avi is not 23. But her web site’s bio page says she is. Boo.
Are you reading because Facebook or Twitter guided you to this page? Are you wearing a scarf indoors? Do you have an undergraduate degree in something obscure or theoretical that you are not currently using? If you answered yes to any of the above, then you are most likely a millennial and will appreciate the gift suggestions below from The Next Great Generation.
Recently I’ve become strangely obsessed with the way people talk about our generation. It all started this summer when it seemed like every other day I’d trip over an op-ed pointing out an inherent flaw in my person. Apparently I (and you too, if you are of proper age) have turned into a narcissistic, over-confident, unrealistic digital addict who suffers from a Peter Pan complex and whose social/communication skills have been permanently stunted… 140-characters at a time.*
I always feel strange reading these pieces. I never know whether to be defensive or highly amused by them. After all, such generational ramblings are reminiscent of cliché grandfatherly speeches about how kids today have it easy…before you had to walk to the unheated school house barefoot in the snow…up hill…both ways. This brings me to my very first label: millennial. It’s one that will likely apply to each writer and guest writer on on this blog. Unlike others it doesn’t have a clear definition, only an endless list of associated concepts which include (but are not limited to): debt, moving back in with mom and dad, “sexting,” and wearing jeans to work. At this point I just want to know if these criticisms from my summer reading are genuine or purely cyclical. Am I also doomed to a future of pessimism towards youth? Will I still be writing on this blog past middle age complaining about Generation AA’s lingo, habits, and smarter smart devices? I really, really hope not.
Perhaps I’m just getting defensive. After all, I partially fit into the cliché. I have an active Twitter account which I love and actually wore jeans to work today. I DO, however, live alone and make money (this is arguable, but I’ll explain on a later date). I’ve also refrained from sexting because 1) I don’t trust Verizon enough and 2) the practice itself is more lame than I can convey in this blog post.
So when exactly did millennial become such a dirty word? It’s gotten to the point where I’m almost offended when someone characterizes me as one because of the slew of negative connotations that accompany it. Not all of us are wandering aimlessly through our twenties with only the light of our smart phones to guide us. Don’t get me wrong – I’m not pardoning us completely from our flaws. I just don’t think youth has been completely doomed by our economic and technological circumstances. Yes, we talk about ourselves too much (evidence: this blog) and dream to a laughable degree (have I mentioned that I’m going to save the world?), but we’re not the originators of laziness or bad communication. Innovators – maybe. Originators – definitely not.
Out of my inspiring and interesting peers from college and work, I think I’ve encountered too many exceptions to believe the rule. Youth is not doomed. For now I’ll hold fast to my naïve, optimistic worldview.
But then again that’s what makes me a millennial, right?
*Please note that I am ironically displaying this opinion via blogging – a medium which only seems to enable my millennial ways. Also note that this post is more than 140 characters.
