No time for getting old

Having studied the economy, some politics and modern pop culture in the last two months, I find myself stumped and mad. In fact, I don’t know how to describe the love-hate relationship that I now have with social media—Instagram in particular. It often feels like I’m trying to reach out to new friends that don’t really exist. Most of my friends remained on Facebook or Twitter. One of my best friends didn’t even want to leave Myspace ten years ago.

I don’t know what to do on social media platforms anymore. And Instagram is crammed with Millennial influencers that don’t welcome anything but good vibes. It’s become a goddamn hippie village. Perhaps I’m looking at it too closely and overanalyzing things. People connect in such a strange superficial way these days; they’re nothing but nice to each other.

While attempting to learn more about marketing, I find myself imitating and adapting to that social norm of Instagram without realizing it. It’s driving me insane now. There is no transparency or a sneak peek of what’s beneath a person’s surface—nothing but sheer phoniness.

Before I did all these readings, I had no idea what to think about this fast-moving generation, which is so hollow and artificially bright on my phone screen. I keep staring at it and lose touch with what’s real around me. Still trying to enhance my marketing skills, it seems that I’m doing better on my dog’s profile than my own.

I didn’t know which generation I belonged to, except that I am stuck in the same economic disaster as the Millennials until I realized that I’m nothing like them.

Then again, why am I acting like fifteen, trying to identify myself with a group?! Suppose I wouldn’t give a fuck, if things were different. Today’s youth doesn’t have security. I didn’t have it twenty years ago either, neither do I now. Perhaps that’s my problem, plus the fear of falling behind.

All those studies have helped me understand other people better—all except myself. That’s my relationship with most educational non-fiction—it’s numbing and soul-sucking. So many people are lost and aren’t admitting it.

I’m not a Gen X either, but I hate how political correctness has practically eliminated Gen X’s humour. Jokes aren’t so funny anymore. Generation serious is rising, and comedy is dying. Someone reassure me that our music will live on, please.

However, my essay summary on What does it mean to be young in an ageing world is not as subjective as this blog post. In fact, I didn’t feel this way when I was writing the essay. I suppose I burst my own bubble.

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