I don’t have a job because I’m young. Haven’t you read that New York Times piece about me? I don’t want to work. I’m just looking for a full-time job as a Young Unprofessional. The requirements would be to have no work ethic, show up to “work” hungover after having a wild night out, and tweeting mean things about my boss. Is anyone hiring? I need money to buy Kombucha and Xanax. This is serious. Give me a job, you crypt keepers! if not, I’ll just continue to be the person you want me to be—lying on my iKea couch watching Reality Bites. Life imitates blog.
I don’t know how to love anyone because I’m young. In other languages, “young” loosely translates to “heartless creep with a nice ass.” You better watch it because a young person with internet access is coming to a bed near you! If you disappoint me, I’ll tweet about it to my 1,298 followers. I am that evil. People would describe me as a character on Skins mixed with any Bret Easton Ellis character. My narcissism is scarier than any demon you could conjure.
I don’t have any money because I’m young. But you know I still buy exclusively organic at Whole Foods and you know I’ll spend my last twenty dollars on a macrobiotic salad because I partied hard last night and need to start treating my body with respect. Money is overrated anyway. The real currency is in a blog comment, an American Apparel leotard, a new Twitter follower, a how to guide on living, dreaming, breathing.
I do tons of drugs because I’m young, Yikes, I have a headache. I better take an Oxy! I place no real value on my life, didn’t you know? I choose doing coke over having sex because meaningful connections terrify me and I’m just so disconnected. What is this? Real emotion? Get it off of me! Did I catch it? I better have vacuous sex with a stranger. I read somewhere that it’s the only way to get rid of real feelings. That’s what young people do anyway. Right?
I listen to Grizzly Bear because I’m young. I love riding my bike to the summer festivals in a crop top and tweeting, “Riding my beach cruiser in a crop top to see grizzly b. Summer skin, laughter and mimosas!” I’ll then do a Twitpic and post it to my Facebook and Tumblr, and by the end of the night, my vapid youth will have cum all over the world wide web. You’ll hate me for all of it because I’m young. I will feed into it exactly the way you want me to.
You want me to be bad, don’t you? You want to talk about how awful I am and how my generation is fucked and how I need to get a job and get some perspective and some feelings and a pair of boot cut jeans, for christ’s sake! Fine. Because I’m young, I’ll give you something to blog about. But only because I’m young.