About Last Night is a 3 part writing series inspired by No Filter’s About Last Night, which was also inspired by Rashomon, where 5 kids recall the previous night’s party in varying (tipsy) perspectives.
For my take, I try to recall the same night spent by my 5 (also probably tipsy or hungover) 20something selves. I enjoyed writing this, and I hope you enjoy it too.
part 2 of 3
22. “I don’t have an IG”
“I don’t have an IG” I say, and suddenly people’s focus shift from their screens to me, eyes bat in disbelief. I mean what I said. I meant that I was being humble at it, too.
I’m good at being ordinary, in fact, I aspire to be great at being average. And IG is no place for that. Also, saying such sounds hipster-ly cool.
But hey, I had a LiveJournal account. I was blogging before blogging was cool. How old was I then, 12?
That’s enough cool for me to compare how people don’t exactly share as openly anymore, no longer as personal. Ten years ago, I read about people’s lives from around the world—a girl’s musings on missing her train in London, a narrative of one’s break up, and me typing away my Harry Potter craze phase. The internet was a safe space for an introverted me back then.
We were all just sincere stories; now we’ve become algorithms. Put in relevant data, like a few posts, and suddenly, the internet seems to know me more than my mom ever would.
The internet has become a reverse show; what used to be us feeding information to the internet, the internet now tells us what we are or what we can/should be. Simply do a google search for a product and you’ll be seeing ads or articles of it for the next few weeks.
Maybe the reason why people don’t share as openly anymore is that they’re trying to preserve themselves.
“I don’t have an IG” simply meant I don’t need more spaces, people and numbers to tell me what I do not know about my self, nor let grids and filters determine what I’ll eventually become.
23. How did I get here?
A quick search in Zomato, an Uber ride and a fumbling excuse to chug in a bottle of booze.
But really, how did I get here? One minute I was hopping off the school bus in a rush to catch up on cartoons, now I’m paying for fast food with my earned cash; and it’s thirty-minutes past midnight, and my parents only texted me to say goodnight, no sermons or whatsoever.
They have finally coined a term for what we feel–adulting. The paying the bills, choosing a career path and the fighting gravity at 6 am.
It was my generation who created that all-encompassing term for all things grown-up. That’s us millennials. We’re so good at trying to make things sound cool, trendy, and well, millennial. They call us trophy kids for wanting to be recognized for doing the bare minimum.
We hide behind “only 90s kids know” think pieces, shying away from the fact that it’s the modern version of our parents annoying “back in the days” lectures. We taught everyone how it is to chill and yet we have no chill. We’re lazy, entitled, we spit on nine-to-fives and we’d rather starve and work on our passions than doing soul-less work.
My generation is not perfect, but we continuously fight to make the world a better place when all we have were dust from wars and loose change from the great depression. We are re-building democracy, love and humanity. And yet, they’re only pinpointing us out for killing the real-estate industry, for selfies and for shedding unnecessary light on issues we can be #woke about.
We don’t just want to live in this world, we want to work our part in it, too. This is how I believe we’ve coined the words #adulting #woke are coined and to encompass us as a generation.
We ask ourselves every day, and we doubt everything over and over because that is how we get to our pivotal truths, to our great somewheres. And of course, we tell the world about it [in 140 characters more or less] Wherever there or here is, I’m just glad I’m not the only one to ask:
How did I get here again?
Read About Last Night part one here