We look like adults, work like adults, dress like adults, address adult issues, but in our very essence, adulthood really isn’t our thing.
when someone mentions responsibility
Come to think of it, life really isn’t our thing either. We spend maybe 80% of our lives complaining that we’re alive in the first place. It was my favourite argument to raise with my mother after she’d complain about how much admin it was having me as a child. All I’d have to say is, “Well, I didn’t ask to be born,” and it was always the joke that won the argument.
Seriously though, my generation really hates adulthood. We don’t mind growing up, that’s not the issue here. Age isn’t even that big of an issue. It’s the doing of things that make you an adult that’s the problem. The waking up to realize you really are alone in the world, the fear of having to be accountable for things, the sheer disdain of doing… things. Simply because the adults before us made it all look so horrifying.
Considering adulting like….
This post came from reading a review of a book I didn’t really like. A 780 page award-winning waste of my energy (no really, it won the Pulitzer Prize). I really wanted to see if other people thought the same or similar of it. Well, to my disbelief, there were actually quite a few high-level literary critics who, like me, disliked it. However, I had to stop in my tracks when I read why they didn’t like it. They thought it was a child’s book in an adult book’s shoes.
One particular reviewer told Vanity Fair, “I think that the rapture with which this novel has been received is further proof of the infantilization of our literary culture: a world in which adults go around reading Harry Potter.”
That was a dagger to the chest. I am that adult who goes around reading Harry Potter, and other books similar to the series. Without going too deep in to my particular take on the book, especially after reading said review, I realized that I was caught. In agreeing that the book has an awkwardly childlike essence, but still wanting to defend my own childlike character, I found myself the epitome of a millennial. Come to think about it, I don’t even like reading books meant for adults… The wondrous world of adolescence and childhood is too rich with colour and excitement that I honestly cannot bear to look at anything else seriously.
The book that really isn’t that amazing
That’s just it. Our generation just doesn’t take adulthood seriously. It’s something that the generations before us swallowed dry, ignoring the taste and enduring its effects. Then it was our turn, and we knew we didn’t want it. We simply looked at it and politely said, “No thanks, that doesn’t look like fun.” Thus it sits on a platter, waiting for us to take it, while we gobble down the scrumptious colours of youth right in its face.
I must say, we’re all the better for it. I’m just obsessed with this stunning ability we have to look at how the world works and throw shade at things we don’t like, and fire emoji’s at the things that we do. We’re not cryptic, we’re creative. We’re not lost, we’re informed. We’re not disruptors, we’re innovators. We need to stop looking at ourselves as “not adults.” We’re getting old, so yes, we’re adults. We just don’t live in adulthood, it’s a dreadful looking neighbourhood. We’re doing the adult thing a little differently, and that’s okay.
A typical Monday at the office…
Anyway, in a completely non-refined kinda-not-really related, scrapbook-like manner, I introduce a little revamp to Book of Aces. Slowly but surely the content will be taking on a new feel, and I’m not afraid to mix it up, because that’s what we do. Introducing two new sections to the blog, Reviews and Reflections.
I hope it becomes a better reading experience, and that you can find a little entertainment in the content produced here.
