Think Hippie

“Millennials (also known as the Millennial Generation, or Generation Y) are the demographic cohort following Generation X.”

My name is Miranda Tempest, I'm twenty years old and I belong to Generation Y and I can’t make up my mind as to whether I’m happy about it or not… We are a generation who has witnessed first hand the vast difference between the ‘90s’ and the ‘Naughty’s.’ We watched as Take That, and The Spice Girls were replaced with One Direction and Little Mix (vom), as SEGA disappeared and IPhones appeared. We are the last generation to remember what a VCR is, and what it was like to get up early on a Saturday to watch our favourite cartoons. Only Generation Y knows the pain of realising they are not, in fact, going to Hogwarts when they turn eleven. We went through parties akin to that which we viewed on Skins, and messed ourselves up over absolutely nothing. We’re all crazy, self-indulgent, lazy young adults who refuse to grow up (with the exception of a special few), and we are the generation who will be starting our last year at University in September. We have one year left, it counts the most in terms of our grades, it will either make or break us, and we’re all scared shitless.

People always ask me what I want to do once I leave university; they have this glint in their eye that suggests they think I will be one of those eternal students. They know I don’t have a clue, and it seems everyone else around me knows precisely what they want to do. I have ideas, and passions, I’d like to go into publishing, and I’d love to travel around the world, but the likelihood of my plans actually panning out are probably fairly slim; such is life. Maybe the paralysing fear I feel about the prospect of leaving University is unique to me. I definitely don’t feel my age, I’m twenty years old and while my peers are out taking part in who knows what kinds of shenanigans, I’m sat at home in my Sainsbury's pyjama set watching SpongeBob Squarepants or reading Harry Potter. Seriously. So how on earth do all of these adults expect me to be able to honestly and confidently answer their questions about what I want to do in life after University?  

University has been an absolute rollercoaster ride from the get go, my first year was the most baffling, difficult, and amazing year of my life and while it may be fraught with regrets, I doubtless learned my fair share of lessons, not all of which I particularly wanted to learn. I escaped my second year with barely a hiccough and my best friends are my saving grace, I ended the year feeling shocked that so much time had gone by so quickly, and grateful for a rest… A rest that didn’t last so long… I have to find somewhere new to live, and am faced with the horrifying prospect of having to move back into halls, which I prefer to call a homeless shelter that charges extortionately high rent. Not to mention the mountain of books to read for my dissertation and modules in preparation for September, oh the horror! I wont lie and say the hundreds of things I have on my to-do list are robbing me of my midday lie-ins, I am a student after all, but I can’t deny that I’m woken at least once a week in the middle of the night anxious about my final year. Its difficult to put my finger on exactly what it is that is so frightening, is it the looming finish date? Or is it the feeling that everything is up in the air, that nothing is set in stone? There is certainly a feeling that dreams that I had wont be possible anymore, that places I wished to visit on my backpacking adventure are going to cost too much money, and the expectation to put a foot on the first rung of my career hangs over me like a cartoon rain cloud.

I’m babbling incessantly and I’m sure this is one of the most boring posts I’ve ever uploaded, but trying to assemble how I feel about entering my final year of University is not an easy task. How are a bunch of big kids supposed to pull themselves together enough to be able to organise their futures and actually get what they want out of it? How are we, Generation Y, supposedly the most screwed up generation, expected to orchestrate our hopes and dreams in a world where it’s too expensive to  eat let alone fulfil our fantasies? The answer continues to evade me but that isn’t stopping me from chasing desperately after it like a sleep-deprived student during finals. I suppose we just have to suck in a huge breath, hold it, and pray to almighty God that it all works out in the end.