No clever teaser paragraph this time, sorry. I’m not in the mood. Because you know what pisses me off? Boxes. Artistic boxes. Artistic stereotypes. And people who think they know you and then get offended when you don’t live up to their standards.
You. Reading my website. How many of my posts have you read? If you’ve read even one more than this one, you’ll know I’m a thinker. Or I like to think of myself as a thinker. And I like to write as if I’m a thinker.
And that would gets people thinking that I’m some sort of prodigy that’s above people of my generation. Because no introspective prodigy like myself laughs at poop jokes. Right? …right?
There’s this stereotype for people like me that I like to think of as “Generation X²”. When I say “people like me” I mean the people who have grown up in this enhanced and increasingly digital world and use it for furthering words and ideas instead of anonymous private parts on ChatRoulette. I mean the people who write about their feelings instead of hurting the people around them. I mean the people who are guided by their artistic pursuits and not a need to make something of themselves.
Ok, got that? “People Like Me” (n): Writers, painters, bloggers, vloggers, etc.
But Bri, what about the stereotype?
I’m getting to that. We now know the group of people I’m referring to. So what kind of stereotype is it that pisses me off? The stereotype that “PLM” (People Like Me) are somehow above the rest of their generation. That because I spend a lot of time thinking about how much I effing hate transcendentalists because they support apathy in society and only possess selective enlightenment means I can’t get giggly around a boy I think is cute. That because my idea of a weekend well spent is rereading the Hunger Games trilogy I’m not allowed to use “lol” in an instant messaging conversation.
Listen, people. I’m not above anyone. I believe that “That’s What She Said” jokes are the highest form of humor. I read trashy YA romance novels in between bouts of Harry Potter and The Great Gatsby. I like dressing up because no matter how much I complain about not getting to sit any way but cross legged, I like to feel feminine sometimes. I laugh when people fart. I blush really hard whenever Ethan, my really really cute Voyages leader, comes over to talk to me when he sees me in the UC.
I am a normal person. Being a novelist/blogger doesn’t make me somehow “better” than other people in my generation. Take me off the pedestal. I’m just a kid. I’m just a big mouthed, awkward kid.
And you know what pisses me off more? When people are disheartened by this information. Like it somehow makes me, and the people they usually associate with these traits, less desirable. Like it somehow makes me too human. Like having normal teenage urges and maturity levels is a bad thing.
Because it’s not. So from now on, I’ll make sure to keep you all straight. For every blog I post about something introspective that uses more than two words over three syllables, I’ll tweet something vapid. You’re welcome.
