#selfie #yas #bae

I am a millennial. I am a part of Generation Y, and to some, I also classify to be categorized with Generation Z (a much worse generalization, supposedly). Time Magazine defines me as an adolescent grouped with the "me, me, me" generation, as it vilify and condemns us for our apparent narcissism and egomaniac attitude. In the ninth grade, one of my teachers warned my peers and I of the despicable deterioration of our generation; she felt compelled to pick apart our mannerisms, our fads, and our slang to tell us that we're self-centered and stupid. Why? Because our generation is immersed in a pool of technology? Because our generation feeds on Instagram, Snapchat, Facebook, Tumblr, and Twitter? Because our generation grew a culture of hashtags and filters, selfies and subtweets? I was offended then, and I am offended now.

I understand the rapid growth of technology and the sudden importance of media nowadays. In fact, I often find myself infuriated with the presence of media in society; I don't approve of how the news plaster criminal faces all day long and never once mention and honor the victims of a wretched crime. I absolutely loathe how tabloids and beauty magazines often label certain people as "plus-sized" models when they look healthy and normal. There are many faults with society nowadays, but it is hypocritical and utterly ludicrous to blame my generation. We may be the future rulers of the world, and we may be the ones coming into power, into responsibility quite soon, but we are not the only ones at fault. We were raised by a different generation; the generation before us were the ones that put us into the economic situation we're in.

Yes, there's a ridiculous growth in teen pregnancy rates recently. But you know what else has raised? Average annual debt of recently graduated students. It is said that the average amount of debt a millennial has approximates around $45,000. Unfortunately, average annual income only totals up to around $39,500, leaving it nearly impossible to clear the debts that are racking up. Tuition is now 2.3% more expensive for my generation that the previous one; 2.3 doesn't sound like a very large number, does it? Think of it like this: over the last 28 years, tuition expenses have increased 538%. The anxiety levels of my generation have peaked to parallel the anxiety levels of psychiatric patients in the 1950s. Almost 60% of the girls growing up now feel like they have an eating disorder. 16.3% of Generation Y are completely unemployed, and in every 10 millennials, there are only 6 that are actually employed; 3 of them are only partial employed. While these numbers may not speak volumes at such a small scale, let me put this into perspective for you: There are 86 million people a part of the millennial generation; that is a gaping 7% larger than the baby boomer population, which in turn means that there are just that many more people living without a job. Too often, I find a story of a man or woman, Bachelor's Degree at their disposal, but no job. With a lack of proper income flow, there are 21.6 million millennials that have lived with their parents after college. Even the safest of careers are crumbling at the weight of the economy. A law degree is drastically declining in importance. Terrifying. Truly.

We may be fluent in #selfie, #yas, #that'sbae, but we've never been given a chance to speak our voice. Time after time, we're shot down. Time after time, we're turned away -- told we're too inexperienced, told we lack the skill necessary to master a specific task, told we're too immature. How are we supposed to prove ourselves when we don't even get an opportunity?

I understand that there are plenty of wild children in the world. There are too many people that find themselves obsessing over the number of likes they got on their Instagram picture, and countless people update their Snapchat stories and Facebook statuses as if they're the next bestseller novel, but so what? Why does it matter so much to the baby boom generation that we're indulging in some guilty pleasures? These are the fads that come along with the technology boom. Every generation is constantly complaining about the next one; even now, my peers and I judge those children born in the 2000s for their degrading behavior and loss of innocence. All in all though, each generation will have its own flaws, and each generation will have its pros. We all just need a taste of perspective and open-mindedness.

Times are changing. America has its first black President. American states are finally starting to allow same-sex marriage. Marijuana is becoming legal in some states; we're progressing as a nation, but the blatant tension between baby boomers and millennials are creating an inevitable rift. Such a dichotomous division is dangerous, for society, for humanity. The baby boomers lived through war, started the fiscal downfall, and engrossed themselves in the Civil Rights Movement, the Women's Movement, everything -- us millennials are dealing with the aftermath, so cut us some slack. We're all living on the same planet; we're all a part of the same ultimate community, so why not act like one? We're too busy arguing over our differences that we don't realize we have similarities.

We all have our own stories, so maybe the best solution is to listen to each other and aim for reform rather than retaliation.

Don't walk towards the murderer, you idiot. Call the police already!

I don't spend days upon days marathon watching Netflix shows because I have nothing better to do. I don't mindlessly watch season after season because I'm bored. I watch television because it amplifies my emotions. It's my form of soul-searching, and I have no shame whatsoever.

The best television shows skillfully craft together protagonists and antagonists with such subtly that you don't even realize the contrasts that exist between them. They can magically pair together people that automatically sync together in their actions. The most talented ones can rip my heart out and leave me sobbing at 3 AM with one little plot twist. Now, I'm not saying I enjoy the pain that comes from killing off my favourite characters or the agony that occurs from the falling out between two characters, but it evokes emotion. And boy, am I an emotional person.

I definitely have a problem with getting emotionally attached to the characters in television shows, but can you blame me? How do you not feel some love for the people you've been with for seven seasons? You've learned their quirks, their mannerisms, their sayings. I've even found myself familiar with their slang. It's inevitable. I always get really invested in the lives of television characters, and while they are fictional and not at all like real life, I indulge in my little guilty pleasure. I live vicariously through them. I've slept with the President. I've traveled through time, saving the world from ferocious and conniving aliens. I've killed demons, gotten kicked out of Stanford only to become an international spy, and worked for the Santa Barbara Police Department as their prime psychic detective. Through the characters' passions, interests, and life experiences, I've discovered myself. Living in the suburbs doesn't give me much opportunity to pursue my own life experiences; I've scoured the Internet reading about adolescents that have climbed mountains and para-sailed over volcanoes, but at the same time, I've come to accept that my life just isn't all that interesting. It has interesting moments, that's for sure. I've gone to amazing concerts, spent a whole summer with the most brilliant people I've yet to meet, and I've traveled all around the historically significant villages of China. I've definitely cashed in quite a lot of money at the bank of memories, but I don't live a life of adrenaline and hype. Luckily for me, I have the privilege of watching television (on the computer... that counts, right?). I've spent endless nights watching Netflix til 3 AM, to which I promptly tell myself I need to sleep. I never listen to my own advice though.

However, through my self-rebellion, I've learned more and more about myself. I've realized that I am, despite what I tell myself every day, that I am a hopeless romantic. I'd be a sucker if I found myself a fiance like Evan R. Lawson on Royal Pains. I've realized that I oftentimes feel like I'm different from other girls, like Robin on How I Met Your Mother. Yet, at the same time, I've realized that I'm a kid at heart, like John Dorian from Scrubs. I've realized that it's okay to not fall into peer pressure, like Poussey from Orange Is the New Black, and I love that I've realized that feminism is necessary and of grave importance thanks to Oliva Pope from Scandal. I've realized that I do indeed have major problems with my family. Television has broken the wall that I have built around my vulnerabilities and delved straight into the war with my insecurities and fears. It has dug the repressed memories and neglected problems I've buried under piles and piles of concrete.

I know Hollywood is far from accurately depicting real life; there's always a happy ending, and the high schoolers in TV shows are all, in actuality, 20+ years old. That's okay; that's capitalism and marketing at its finest -- hazard of the trade. But television does the same wondrous and magical thing that books do; it teaches you. From the mistakes made on shows, you learn how to apply them to your life. Even in horror movies, you learn to never go towards the creaky noises and to always call the police immediately.

As I keep watching TV shows, I find myself seeing myself in all the characters, good or bad, and that's because I'm not a product of directors and writers. I make mistakes, and I screw up more times than I'd like to admit. In TV shows, there's usually an obviously "good" character and a notoriously known "bad/evil" character. In life, it's not always that easy, so sometimes it's easier to watch someone else go through the runs of their, albeit made-up, life. And through their story and perspectives, you start to see yourself reacting the same way they would. You begin to understand the mindset and ideologies of the villain. Most importantly, I've begun to really grasp the fact that I am human, which means that I am far from perfect. And that's okay.

Being an adolescent is tough; there are nights when a blanket of angst and aggravation veils upon the atmosphere. There are times when I am devoured by my over thinking. There are way too many days when I feel hopeless, lost without any motivation or determination. The littlest of things seem like Mt. Everest to overcome. Television has broadened my perspective. Do I owe my maturity to Netflix? Maybe, maybe so. But that's beside the point; the point is that everyone feels a little different when they're growing up. Everyone feels a bit like an outcast, and that's perfectly acceptable. Ironic, though. Ironic that we are all somehow united in our feelings of difference. So, sometimes it's nice to use fictional characters as a safety net. It's okay to bond with made up stories and relate to their made up adversity.

Now onto my third year of having Netflix, I've come to predict many events in shows. So far, I've been able to accurately call ever major event in Bates Motel. Even when I was little and had "family movie night", I was able to figure out all the plot twists before their big unveiling. Directors can't seem to fool me. But that doesn't mean all the joy is sucked out of them. I still anticipate the big shock, and it's very obvious that plot twists are common in every television show -- some more cliche than others. Directors, writers, and anyone and everyone that works with the production of a show have power. You do too. We all do. We are the directors of our own show. We get paid in life experience. We have season finales too. We have dramatic buildups. We have tragedy. We have bliss. So watch some television. Learn from the characters; learn what you like and what you don't. Learn what kinds of people you'd envision a future with. Learn what types of people to avoid at all costs. Learn what kind of scenery makes you wake up in a good mood every day. Learn all about yourself, and explore the sea of your personality, and produce one hell of a show.

1, 2, 3... Action!

Glass slippers and snowmen? Snowmen in glass slippers? Glass slippers on snowmen?

I've learned more about my family history in the past month than I have in my entire lifetime. While sixteen years may not be that long in perspective, I've come to terms with the fact that, growing up, I was ignorant of my roots. I'll be honest -- I never wondered about my background. I knew the facts: I'm a second generation Chinese girl growing up in America. My mother grew up in Suzhou, and my father, Chengdu. I'm also very lucky, as my family has never had to grieve any deaths (in relation to my grandparents). I've had my grandparents on my mother and father's side visit multiple times for one year/six-month time spans. I'm not sure why, but it never crossed my mind to ask anyone about what life was like before iPhones and Netflix.

Very recently, I've been experiencing what I'd like to creatively identify as the anti-existential crisis. As with any adolescent growing up, I've finally reached another rite of passage: my Holden Caulfield phase. Decorated with a fine cynicism and subtle skepticism, I've found my own healthy (or not so healthy) way to deal with the "phonies" in my life. All in all, I have all the tell-tale signs prefacing an existential crisis. I've had the religious talk with a lot of friends; I've embraced a sort of dark humor (and desensitized sarcasm) outlook on life, and my tolerance for stupidity is at an all time low. However, these past two weeks have revolved around my fascination at the fact that I am alive. I am breathing, and I growing every day. The tips of my hair used to be at my scalp, and my fingernails have lived a long and colorfully-nail polish filled life.

I think it all really hit me when I was sending my little brother, six years of age, to bed. Me sending him to bed was rather rare considering he's so used to my mother tucking him in, and I'm always drowning in my swarm of homework and studying. So, when I get the chance, I take it. Now usually I read a book of his choice to him; that'd been the norm for the past six years, but this time, it was like someone took a hold of the axis my world was built on and spun it around like the wheel of a kaleidoscope.

He read to me.

He picked up the rather extensive Toad and Frog chapter book and started slowly piecing the words together. Albeit slow and broken sometimes, his ability to read was awe-inducing. Maybe it was an out of body experience, or maybe it was my maternally-motivated sibling love kicking in, but I felt so dizzy. My whole world was spinning like the pointer of a Twister game -- and my perspectives were entangling with one another like the limbs of the people playing said Twister game.

And so with slow yet inevitable acceptance of my brother's growth, my thoughts began to sprout like the ivy that colonizes the hearty dirt in my backyard, and something embarrassingly obvious finally hit me. My parents had lives before they were my parents. Yes, obvious, but sometimes the most simple things are the most overlooked. Before my father became the 6 foot man that he is (I rounded up, shh...), he was as small as my six year old brother. Before my mother became the wondrous woman that she is, she had breakdowns about finals and worried about what her hair looked like in some lighting. They had their struggles, their talents, and their memories, but the most interesting part of it all? They've lived a life of contrasts. They went from Chinese culture to American society. They went from a time with no TVs to a media-influenced community. So, tonight when I asked my father about his family history, I didn't know why I didn't expect something grand.

To recap, my mother's side of the family comes from a long line of intellectuals. My great grandfather was dubbed the Great Educator of China during the Qing Dynasty, and he was prominent not only in the government, but in poetry, literature, and the humanities. Previous generations lived a generally affluent life, and they valued quality of life. Good natured people and all, they're rather kind as well. On the other hand, my father's side of the family parallels the chaotic pandemonium that is contemporary Chinese history. My (other) great grandfather was very involved in the military. He even studied in France for almost a decade, working with army men to strategically formulate the best weapons and attack plans. With the prominence of warlords in China, he was summoned to work as the head general of the tank units -- the first tank units to ever reach China. He was honored and diligent in his efforts, fighting Communism (and the Japanese). Unfortunately, he was killed in action in the Battle of Shanghai, and my great grandmother remarried to someone of a much lower social status, and that's when everything changed. With the Cultural Revolution and all the political uproar in China during the time, my great grandparents basically had to go into hiding and move the country side. One day, nobility and quasi-royalty; the next day, plebs and peasants. Simply, homely farmers. And then from there, I had relatives that had mental issues, relatives that became zealously religious (yes, cults were involved), and relatives that spoke their opinion. Essentially, my whole family was blacklisted at one point due to the anti-Communist force. My father grew up in a broken home, and slowly but surely, everything interconnected to leave me here: sitting in my bed at 2 AM, blogging about something beyond my control.

If my great grandfather wasn't killed in action, my family would've been extremely well off, riches and luxury a small price to pay. I could've been a princess, an heiress, anything, but instead, with one action, the history of my family was altered. The cruel twist of fate was cursedly made so my family history would follow that of Chinese history, and as proud of my culture I am, I must admit, China went through quite the roller coaster.

When all was said and done though, I realized how fragile life really is. Fate, whether it exists or not, is an aspect to consider because ultimately, we are all alive. We are living and breathing, and our brains are churning away to make sure it stays that way. We have lives and memories, and one day, we'll be thirty years older and reminiscing on the "good 'ol days". But in the big picture, one small decision, one seemingly tiny choice may change the chain of events for anything. Maybe in the future I'll take two steps to the left and end up in a mansion in the Hamptons. Or maybe I'll take a total flip and head in the opposite direction, leaving me in a tiny, yet cozy apartment in New York.

I'll never be able to control every single factor that happens in my life. I'll never be able to map out my future like the stars do with constellations. I'll never be able to check of a list: How To Be Financially Stable and Emotionally Happy: a List of Impossible Tasks. Life can change its course within a matter of seconds, yet we never seem to value the importance of our decisions. We spend our whole lives pushing the negative charge of a future that isn't meant to be with another negative charge of passion, and we still wonder when they don't attract. Like the glass slipper, life is fragile. It won't fit everyone. It won't fit just anyone. It'll break if I try and push something that doesn't belong, and it'll shatter if I act to recklessly with it; however, if I go the way the wind blows me, I'll be able to tell my grandchildren from my mansion/condo/suite/floating home (your pick, your pick) of how they came from both intellectuals and physical warriors. I'll be able to pass on the legacy that only exists today because of the path life decided to take.

So instead, I'll wear the glass slippers like Cinderella but build snowmen like Elsa. Who knows what my decision will do to the ever-lasting fragility of my life?