This week, Georgetown alum (and former Voice editor) Noreen Malone (COL ‘07) wrote a feature story for New York Magazine encouragingly titled, “The Kids Are Actually Sort of Alright: My screwed, coddled, self-absorbed, mocked, surprisingly resilient generation.” I started reading it in the library today and had to leave because I felt near a breakdown (and a breakdown in Lau 2 is just not okay). As if I needed another reminder that the next stage of my life is a complete mystery to me.
It’s not like the article itself made me cry. It was the fact that this article touched upon every single worry I have had in the last couple of months. My best friend from home G-chatted me to express a similar sentiment about the article—“this is me, this is everyone I know.” While she and I acknowledge that we are a small sample of the world, we all think the same things—What am I doing wrong? Why don’t I understand what I’m doing wrong? What am I supposed to want? What am I supposed to expect from my life?
These kinds of questions aren’t new or unique to our generation, a generation that Malone grudgingly calls the Millennials. We are used to praise, constant ego boosting, and a strange “entitlement” that older generations now see as a crutch. Malone points out the irony in all this, as it was our parents’ generation that was so steadfast in instilling in us a high self-esteem.
I never really understood this generalization. I, like any other girl my age, feel the opposite most of the time. I didn’t understand it until I got my first job rejection last night. Our generation gets sad about rejections because, deep down, we think we are qualified. Don’t I even get a blue ribbon just for participating?
In high school we all padded our resumes to get into the best colleges we could. I rocked the clarinet, neurotically cared about my grades, tutored my peers, involved myself in fundraisers for third world disasters I didn’t understand, and held leadership positions that I barely remember the purpose of. But the end goal was pretty clear—entrance to a school that my mom could then brag to her friends about. And while I used to hate the rigidity of my direction and purpose while in high school, I can’t help but envy my 17-year-old self. At least I knew where I was going.
I am fully aware that I am in a lucky position. I’m still in school and I won’t have the burden of debts, the greatest gift my parents could give me besides, you know, raising me. I am fortunate to be at a school like Georgetown, entitled bubble that it is. Still, this feeling of being in a vague limbo, not sure of where to go, what to do, and who to be still haunts me.
I get anxious when I see my friends walking around in suits, off to second-round interviews, holding their fancy little embroidered folders. “Your resume is not a good layout,” a friend told me after a nauseating visit to a career fair. Shit.
Malone doesn’t spend time pointing fingers at previous generations for the faults that exist now. She focuses on the things that give our generation the potential to rise from the economic ashes and, just maybe, be great. We may be in a financial rut, but that does not mean that we are any less cultured, educated or capable. In fact, our economic situation can only lead us to figure out what we value beyond money, like family, relationships, or a social impact (something hard to grasp at a pre-professionally minded school like Georgetown).
In the end, I need to remember that no one really has it all figured out. I had ice cream with a friend the other night. To everyone else he seems like he has it all together —he is about to start hearing back from medical schools, of which I am sure he will have the pick of the fancy litter. But he admitted that he too has doubts about his career choice and is kind of just going with his interests, seeing where it takes him. His roommates for the most part have some sort of future plan, either job offers or early entrance into grad schools. Even though I know it’s not true, sometimes it is hard not to think I am the only one lost.
My friend told me that no one has it all figured out, that they are just trying to make it seem like they do because they think that everyone else does. What a sad and vicious game we play with each other. Everyone just walks around in suits, heading to interviews, hoping that the job and the career will somehow fit. They are hoping that they too will fit into this weird world. And you know what? Maybe that’s okay that we are playing this game. Maybe being lost and insecure is what this entitled, egotistic generation needs. Maybe it will lead us to great things. I’ve got to hope for something.
