We can’t jump off bridges anymore because our iPhones will get ruined. We can’t take skinny dips in the ocean, because there’s no service on the beach and adventures aren’t real unless they’re on Instagram. Technology has doomed the spontaneity of adventure and we’re helping destroy it every time we Google, check-in, and hashtag.
Jeremy Glass, We Can’t Get Lost Anymore
i’m so sick of seeing people trash this generation for no other reason than that things aren’t the way they used to be. there’s this constant vitriolic stream of people snarling that selfies, check-ins and blogs are the death of culture, and i am bored of it.
the human desire to record and document experience is hardly new. without that urge we wouldn’t have art, music, dance, theatre. the world of electronics evolving around that to give us an even broader scope of options to preserve our unique view of the world and share it with others is a beautiful thing. despite a legion of cynical naysayers constantly shouting otherwise, i’ve not actually become immune to earth’s beauty or my own experiences in it. stop being terrified of change and development and calling it profound.
Last line bolded for emphasis
Additionally, I’m not losing my sense of adventure every time I Google something, I’m feeding my thrist for knowledge. I have easy access to the most information that humanity has ever amassed, and you want me to not use that? Because let’s be real, my ancestors who had a “sense of adventure” were actually far more restricted in their travel. I can travel more widely and more cheaply than any point in human history, and you’re trying to imply that my “sense of adventure” has died because of the very technology that has made that possible?
Actually, how about this: my “sense of adventure” is tempered by the responsibilities and anxieties I carry far more than Google or check-ins or hashtags. My “sense of adventure” is tempered by the money I have (or rather don’t have) in my bank account. My “sense of adventure” is tempered by what society has taught me about traveling alone at night. My “sense of adventure” is tempered by the fact that a girl from my high school went on an adventure and ended up murdered, and whose family is still seeking justice because of the negligence of the local police department. My “sense of adventure” is the same as my ancestors’ “sense of adventure,” and it not this nostalgic retelling of history.
And how many of these naysayers have actually taken a trip like Steinbeck or William Least Heat-Moon? How many of them have jumped off a bridge? How many of them feel free to benefit from iPhones and Google and cell service and Instagram, but then criticize younger generations for taking full advantage of the world around them?
We can’t jump off bridges anymore because it’s against laws passed by older generations. We can’t take skinny dips in the ocean because it’s against laws passed by older generations, and adventures aren’t a reality for us because they often cost more money than we have. Technology has made travel more cheap and widespread than ever, and we helped destroy it when we weighed an entire generation down with the responsibilities of another.
It sucks when someone you have feelings for doesn’t share those feelings; it happens to women all the time, too. We hear “I just want to be friends” and “you’re like one of the guys” and “you’re like a sister to me” just as often. But you’ll never hear a woman complain that guys just don’t appreciate a Nice Girl because we’re taught it’s our own fucking fault when we’re rejected—we aren’t pretty enough or thin enough or sexy enough, we weren’t sexual enough or were too sexual, we put out too much or too little or too soon or not soon enough, we didn’t wear our hair the right way or our skirt the right length, we’re “too tomboyish” or “too butch” or “too feminine”, or we’re “not their type”, or we’re otherwise not good enough in various ways to entice the man to grace us with his affection.
But when we’re not interested in someone, we’re vilified. We’re the bitch that lead them on, the bitch who let them buy us dinner but didn’t want to date them, the bitch who doesn’t appreciate a nice guy, the bitch they were nice to and then got nothing in return from.
And, frankly, fuck those people. Showing interest in me, being friendly with me, getting close to me, or eating a meal with me (even if they paid for it) doesn’t obligate me to open my heart or my legs. And anyone who doesn’t appreciate my friendship sure as hell doesn’t deserve my love or my pussy.
In order to become the supreme adult, you must perform the seven wonders:
- Public speaking
- Not being afraid of teenagers
- Calling the doctor yourself
- Arguing without crying
- Having a normal sleep pattern
- Having an answer to the question ‘what do you want to do with your life?’