I’ve been suffering from writing withdrawal. I spent a week in Brisbane before my big move to Canberra (tomorrow! Where did the time go?) and during the five hour bus ride back I felt the overwhelming urge to write. Unfortunately, I had absolutely no way to do so, what with my motion sickness and babble of all volumes and accents coming in from all sides. So, by the time I actually sat down to write yesterday, I was all fired up to start but had absolutely nothing to write about. Nada.

Well, there’s this one thing, but I want to try and write it for publication. And if that doesn’t work, then I’ll post it up here.

Thank GOD for today’s Daily Prompt. Not only does it give me a chance to write, but it also gives me a chance to use up some of this built-up rant energy that I didn’t even know I had. So if you are in no mood for reading someone’s rant, then I suggest you move along.

I belong to Generation Y. I’m a Millenial. Born in 1992, I grew up with dial-up, disc-mans, cassettes, the GOOD Cartoon Network, chalk boards, white boards, and pacers. iPods, when they first came out, were these multi-coloured little bricks with dodgy graphics and no room at all. And when we started getting our mobile phones, sometime around fourteen, everyone’s phone was different and the battery lasted for days. My first experience with a chat room was AOL; a friend of mine was over and we were messaging each other in flashes of blue and red while we kept my little sister entertained.

I think we were the last generation that will understand how satisfying it is to slam a phone in anger. Honestly. Does anyone actually remember the last time they slammed a phone?

Generation Y cops a lot of flak. We have short attention spans, expect instant gratification, are entitled, spoilt, and all-around soft. I totally get that. I mean, really, we haven’t had to work that hard for anything.
Equal gender rights? Won for us.
Conscription? Beaten for us.
Racial equality? Won for us, again.
Although we still have some battles ahead of us – such as Marriage Equality – most of the privileges we enjoy, we take for granted. Honestly, we haven’t had to fight that hard for anything.  But I take offence at the idea that we’re all spoilt and expect things to be handed to us. I am painfully aware that there are people like this infecting my generation. But there are people like this infecting every generation. How else did we end up with dickheads like Tony Abbott?

95% of everyone I know are the opposite of everything negative the media has ever said about Gen Y. They pour everything they have into menial jobs that help them pay for their independence as they study to better themselves. Or they have pulled themselves out of bad situations, found a decent full time job as they decide what they want to do with their lives, stashing money away for their first house or brand new car. OR they are busy looking after their young families, either with a partner or alone, and simply  making ends meet. All around me I see strength, determination, and hope. I don’t see entitlement anywhere. Although the other 5%? They are the epitome  of Generation Y. Well, according to the media.

Have you ever read a book called Super Sad True Love StoryI accidentally bought it for my first year of uni, before realising that I had enrolled in all of the wrong subjects. Essentially this book is Gary Shteyngart predicting the future. Fairly accurately:

  • There will be “Onionskin” jeans. Basically translucent jeans that show off your underwear
  • Lingerie will become fashionable, and AssLuxury will become a label (thus, the Onionskin jeans)
  • Life Extension will become an incredibly profitable market
  • Everyone speaks in acronyms. I mean, more than now.
  • Poles throughout your city will light up with your credit score.
  • Everything tiny detail about yourself that you can possibly imagine is online and available for people to read via their apparats (basically, the next generation of iPhones).
  • You are judged solely on your credit scores and, no joke, “fuckability” rating.

The scary thing about this book is that it is so dead on that I actually think that everything mentioned in this work of dystopian “fiction” could actually come to be. The American dollar is pegged to the Yuan, America is ruled by the omnipotent Bipartisian Party and immigration is punishable by means too horrific to speak about.
Why mention this book? Because, it illustrates my point better than I could. I hold no faith in the future generations. Hell, a fair chunk of my generation are lazy, self-entitled princes and princesses. I can imagine Shteyngart’s future with such clarity it scares me. If it’s fashionable now to have half your arse hanging out of “shorts”, I can definitely  see a market for Onionskin jeans. And don’t even get me started on the whole “fuckability” thing.

And people wonder why I don’t want kids.


About Bec Graham

Bec Graham, 24, was born on the wrong continent. Everything from her burns-like-paper skin tone to her inability to cope with the slightest hint of a hot day suggests she should have been born under the gloomy skies and mild sun of the UK. She hopes writing will get her to her rightful home one day. Failing that, she scans the skies for a spinning blue police box, hoping to catch a lift back to the motherland.
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4 Responses to Millenial

  1. Pingback: Daily Prompt: Generation XYZ | Chronicles of an Anglo Swiss

  2. iihahs says:

    Another Millienial reading this post and nodding to every line !

  3. Pingback: Learning from my 4 year old | A mom's blog

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