Talkin’ ’Bout My Generation
Tonight I heard a comment about the “present generation.” It was a reference primarily to college students; an admonition that it was they who would wake up and affect change in America.
My generation was labeled “X” by Douglas Coupland, a moniker that took firm grasp in the early 90s as it was paraded from television station to print journal, ad nauseum. We were disdainful, disappointed and cynical, in a hopeful sort of way. I could propose many other counter virtues, wiping a nostalgic tear from my eye, but I can shorten all my thoughts of that time to my memory of Kurt Cobain1, grunge, and a grasp for something, anything, that was real. We were aware that our problems were psychological ones on a higher point of Maslow’s continuum; we had fought no wars when our fathers were in Vietnam, their fathers “stormed the beaches” and the old folks we ignored had seen depression and the war “to end all wars.” We fought love and fame, without being sure of what either really meant.
What happened was this: Cathy and I walked to the edge of the reservoir’s water and from her purse she removed a Ziploc baggie containing two filmy-tailed, rather stupid-looking goldfish that Pup-Tent had bought for her the week before in an isolated moment of kindness. We sat down on the smooth rocks next to the spotless, clean, infinitely dark and deep lake water. She said to me, “You only get one chance to fall in love for the first time, don’t you.” And I said, “Well, at least you got the chance. A lot of people are still waiting.”
She then poked the glassy still water, made small ripples, and threw a stone or two. Then she took the baggie, placed it under the water and punctured the membrane with her sharp black fingernails. “By-bye, fishies,” she said as the two languidly wriggled away down into the depths. “Make sure you two stay together. You’re the only chance that either of you is ever going to get.” - Life After God, Douglas Coupland
In our struggle for identity, we looked into ourselves, trying to find something meaningful and unique. We scoured thrift stores because we preferred a torn shirt that had an owner, an identity, and memory, turning our backs on the mass produced, generic, and glossy. We looked the same: different.
“Sometimes I think the people to feel the saddest for are people who are unable to connect with the profound – people such as my boring brother-in-law, a hearty type so concerned with normality and fitting in that he eliminates any possibility of uniqueness for himself and his own personality. I wonder if some day, when he is older, he will wake up and the deeper part of him will realize that he has never allowed himself to truly exist, and he will cry with regret and shame and grief.” - Life After God, Douglas Coupland
If we were to be defined by an aesthetic, Meghan Daum gets it right calling it the R.E.M. aesthetic, concerned with conveying “realness.”
This generation that has potential to “affect change” is a stranger to me. Their icons are boy bands (this includes Linkin’ Park), Britney Spears and Eminem. Their defining writer is Nicholas Sparks and the gloss, my friends, is in.
After thirty years of marriage, Wilson Lewis, son-in-law of Allie and Noah Calhoun (of The Notebook), is forced to admit that the romance has gone out of his marriage. Desperate to win back his wife, Jane's, heart, he must figure out how to make her fall in love with him... again. - The Wedding, Nicholas Sparks
I remember the first Real World cast having a heated discussion over “racism.” The most recent episodes have been illicit sex, lots of drinking and girl fights. The search for truth is over: pass me a wine cooler and did you catch that episode of MADE when the fat girl wants to become a cheerleader?
When I think of how soft the so called “Generation X” was, I cling to this truth: we looked for meaning. Even if our rock stars committed suicide, our rappers were gunned down, and the grunge clothes were available from Millers Outpost, we snarled at convention and any cartoonish, oversimplified rendition of what life was supposed to mean. Our wars were optional but our quest was not.
Short of a nuclear attack, this is today's conventional wisdom: drink low-carb beer, Britney is hotter than Christina, Eminem is dropping his pants and whatever you do, I mean whatever, don’t be weird. If this generation is going to impact anyone, it will be with a boy band, in the most inobtrusive way possible. Oh, and don't forget to make it simple enough for the animated version.
1I still have the drawing, MAP.
11:38:17 PM 
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