Product of My Generation

Sometimes I hate my generation. Each of us a carbon copy of the next. iPhone, designer jackets, caffeinated beverage in hand. I hate how we are so absorbed in social media that we let ourselves get lost for hours searching out information about someone else’s life. I hate how our music is defecating on our language. Terms like “bitch” and “slut” and “whore” are used as words of endearment like people want to be degraded to feel good. And the people who worked so hard to put together those resources we call dictionary, thesaurus, grammar have no concrete value anymore. I hate that our great literature is being turned into a project. Books, once desperately cherished, are obsolete and good prose is “boring,” fading away word by word until they are nothing but the dust we all become. Time spent on technological advances in gaming devices surpasses the time spent in advances we find in things like medicine, because we would rather be entertained for a couple moments each day than have a couple moments more with a friend. At least we act that way, taking for granted the time we have now, wasting it absorbed in ourselves, absorbed in our vanity, selfishness, and better-than-you thinking, that we end up regretting it all the moment our loved ones are gone. I hate how our focus has changed from caring about the justice each person deserves, to a focus on beauty, perfection, how the news takes more time focusing on this celebrity and that celebrity instead of showing us what has purpose —what matters— like the joining of two countries in peace or the heroic acts of an individual in times of need. I hate how ignorant people are about the world, about the news, about their country, about their own backyard, because they believe every word they are fed by the media. We don’t question things like we should anymore and we let other people control how and what we learn. We are able to escape from our daily lives by turning on a television set, a computer, a cell phone, instead of turning to each other to talk, to listen, to understand, to help. I hate that we have stopped trying to better ourselves in our educational values, in social settings, in community, and instead live only for Me, Myself, and I. I worry for our future generations. My children’s children who will be able to work out any tech problem that comes their way but won’t be able to look each other in the eyes and say “Hello.” Instead they will choose to mask themselves behind screens, creating the lives they want to live, but never getting up and making that difference. I hate how I hate I If not my generation, then whose? Where do I put myself? Every generation has its problems and no one place will have all the solutions. When’s the perfect time to live? Maybe it is still to come. Going any further back would hinder my freedom because of my gender. But moving forward into a new time could result in further disappointment. I do not want to settle. I don’t want to be just another product of my generation. I just want to be plain old me. And I will give what it take to make a difference.