By SARAH CHANDLER
An open letter from myself and my generation as we discover ourselves:
Please don’t read my blog.
I’m in the midst of an ill-fated attempt to make a distinctive impact on the digital world and any interference would significantly impede my ability to humble-brag about my accomplishments to middle-aged aunts and uncles who think a blog is something you’re commissioned to produce, like a biography or a portrait.
Please don’t read my blog.
Or if you do, please don’t say anything about it. My crusade must remain unsung. I demand tacit reverence, perhaps a nod of deference as we pass each other on the street and maybe the blood of your firstborn, but no more. And in case you think I’m being unreasonable, I said the same thing every other time I made a foray into the world of the Internet. See below.
“Please don’t friend me on Facebook,” I’ve warned.
“You will imbue my entire social existence with external meaning. You will become a fixture of my consciousness, a condition of my efforts to assert my presence on myself. I am blossoming. Enriched by the unprecedented potential of my birthright, I must not be disturbed. I am building an empire.
“Please don’t follow me on Twitter.
My presence here is utterly satirical. It is crucial that it remain untarnished by the sentiments of outsiders. I have struck such a delicate balance between what I’m actually doing and what I’m making fun of other people for doing. My righteous cynicism is the only thing that separates me from the hordes of thots and baes. The subjective intentions of my own actions exonerate me of my adoption of some semblance of a social role. My indifference toward socially validated identity and individuality is the only thing that separates me from any other walking anthology of tailored 140-character wit.”
I’m allowed to be fascinated by the dynamics of modern society in the digital age. I’m allowed to engage in it, comment on it, reject it, shape it to my whims. I have this unprecedented power, as a millennial, to exercise a deep but uninterested sense of self-realization. Half baffled, half envious, the older generations look on helplessly. And fittingly enough, I can express my power on the Internet, the very vehicle that granted it to me in the first place.
So please, until my conquest of my own identity is complete, I would ask that you keep a respectful distance. I am not here to do, but to engage in a reflexive analysis of my own place in a constantly evolving society. If you acknowledge my existence, you jeopardize it. Please, with discretion and care, safeguard and revere the delicate flower that is the millennial generation. Lol.
Sarah is a sophomore Psychology and Performing & Media Arts major in the College of Arts and Sciences. She likes to exist sometimes, but mostly just recite lines from The Office. Her favorite food is oatmeal raisin cookies dipped in curry sauce, and she can usually be found using the words “film” and “movie” interchangeably, highlighting her favorite words in the dictionary or trying to transcribe feral cat noises into the next groundbreaking Twitter trend. Good Taste Alone appears on Fridays this semester. She can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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