You know you’ve been listening to Angel Haze for three days straight when you wanna end all your sentences with BEEEEETCH!
The Millennial generation is the product of a discrepancy between accessibility and attainability. Anyone can send an email, but the responses are few, and the jobs are even further and far between.
How we got this way is rather simple.
It took a decade or two of indoctrination, of someone telling us that the world was ours, followed by the painful realization that reading Tweets were as close to big wide world domination as many of us would get. Ours would be a second-hand success. Most of us were left to fake it or blame the odds and cede to apathy. Delusions of entitlement headed off work ethic at the pass, and a narrowing spectrum of life experience and a contrary exposure to idealistic extremes left our senses dull.
Technology shoulders some of this responsibility (as does globalization, a weak economy that’s seeing the number of young adults making less than $25,000 increase by six million, and Sean Rad), but technology, for all its 0s and 1s has done something interesting, and slightly ironic: it has turned us into sentimentalists that lack the ability to see, or be lead to the truth. It has made us nostalgic for a history that’s not ours, and as a result denies us the future we desire.
It’s why we say things like: “I miss real photographs,” while simultaneously Instagramming, or Tweet, “I like the smell of books.” We’re stockpiling nostalgia, visions that never really belonged to (most) of us in the first place. We’re hoarding the image in our head without the means or the actual desire to put in the hard work to accomplish it. We’re busy surfing the internet wave, but never stop to realize that the wave is wet or that it’s pulled us under, or when, more often than not, we’ve missed the crest all together.
We don’t appear to want to shoulder any responsibility– like the fact that we refuse to read the fine print, and then collectively uproar that a conglomerate didn’t provide us with the magnifying glass. We’re a bit French (aie) in that manner. And when someone questions our abilities, we get pretty tetchy.
We want everything, while understanding the value of nothing. We accept everyone while having sympathy for no one. We see the man on the side of the road, but we aren’t going to be the one to stop. We jump in the fire and take a piss on it all at once. Tristan Walker may have succeeded, deservedly so, but for most of us this will not be the case.
We have to be willing to get out from behind the computer. We have to not only pay attention, but be willing to engage. We need unsentimental efficiency to disarm our nostalgia.
Yes and yes. I don’t know what to do about it yet, but this is relevant to my life.
This has been sitting in my drafts for ages. I’m not sure why I wrote it, seemed like something I should have down somewhere.
I’ve been marking events with piercings for a six years, looking forward to those long exhaling moments where the peircer pushes the needle through, the rush of heat fills my ear and the jewellery is inserted. They might just be holes in my ears to anyone else but to me they mark times of change in my life.
I got my first lobe piercings with my mum, at some crappy chemist by some girl with a gun in hand. I’d pretended I didn’t want earrings for a long time because I was scared of the pain, but I was feeling especially honest that day and when I quietly asked, my mum surprised me by taking me out for it straight away. I went to bed with swollen lobes and instructions about spraying antibacterial fluid and turning the studs every few hours.
I got my second set of lobes on a weekend away with friends in Terrigal. I’d been strictly forbidden to get these by my parents and when I got home with them they made me take them out. I just put another pair of studs in.
I had my helix pierced when I finished high school, it was one I’d wanted for a long time. I went to what turned out to be a fairly average piercing place near my house and my ear bled everywhere afterwards and swelled up like a balloon. I actually wondered what I would do if my ear was permanently disfigured, but with a lot of sea salt soaks it all turned out ok.
I got an anti helix when I was 20, the day after I broke up with my first boyfriend. It was a day out to take my mind off the waves of guilt that were crashing over me after I’d spent months umming and ahhing about how to tell him. I still think about him when I clean that piercing.
I got a rook before my last year of uni. I actually had to get this sucker pierced twice because I was stupid and went to a shitty place the first time. It was pouring and I didn’t want to catch the bus and walk Polymorph. So I let a girl from some shop in Broadway pierce my rook wayyy too deep and struggle to get the curved barbell in. Afterwards it was pinching me and the balls of the barbell were actually recessed into my cartilage. I had to get it taken out at Polymorph, wait six weeks for it to close up and get it redone. When I went back, I took my boyfriend of a few weeks at the time and in some weird metaphor for that relationship my rook didn’t heal properly for the two and a bit years we were together.. I babied it with sea salt soaks, slept on my other side and didn’t wear headphones, but it was sore and I bumped it a lot in my sleep. I was always warning him to be careful of it. I don’t know why but when it was finally healed to perfection, we’d broken up.
I got my conch pierced late last year after a long break. I was accompanying a friend to get an antihelix and it just seemed like it was time for another one. I was single again, just started a new job, just started a new course. Life was good. This healed like a dream, got the barbell switched out for a ring in six weeks.
I think I’m done with piercings. It’s been a good six years. It’s time to start marking events in new ways.