In Part One of 'Generation Why,' I wrote on the subject of Millennial impatience (as suggested by an excerpt from a book by Simon Sinek) and how it has affected my life. For those that may have been confused by Part One, I love my parents and don't begrudge them anything. I’d like to now explore a topic that I consider to be a symptom of my impatience: Avoidance. While it manifests in a number of ways, there are a few that I consider to be of more importance to the topic at hand than others.

Let me begin by describing what I consider to be one of the primary ways that I practice avoidance on a daily basis. To anyone that has been paying attention, it is quite apparent that nostalgia has become a currency of sorts with which we conduct interpersonal commerce (and otherwise: look at "Stranger Things," "Pokemon Go" and MTV Classic). This nostalgia is often for a time period in which we barely lived or were too young to have actively participated in. But the reason for such indulgence is the same as it ever was: A wish to mentally retreat to a time considered to be either more innocent, wholesome, or simply better. Implicit in this nostalgia is a well-developed (or perhaps the inverse) sense of irony. The function of this irony is often an ever-changing, almost alchemical effort to define what is "kewl," defined by a certain detached reverence for cult identity and interest. In effect, by utilizing nostalgia and irony to communicate with each other, we actively avoid some of the heavier lifting involved in meeting people and making friends. We relate on the surface only. And before you say it, yes, I know that this concept is neither unique nor new to our generation. But with each of us robed in our various forms of meticulously crafted, pre-fabbed identity, we actively seek out others with similar denim vests or overalls or handlebar moustaches or band t-shirts because then we know what we are getting into (and that’s just what is conducted in person, not even taking into account social media). It’s safer this way. Basically, we get to window-shop for new friends.

And by friend, I mostly mean acquaintance. I can count on one hand the number of true friends that I have, and the majority of them are holdovers from childhood. But I’ve had literally hundreds of acquaintances in my life, from one-off drunken conversations in bars, to people (usually co-workers) with whom I would spend great swaths of time, get close with, and then from whom I would eventually drift away. These acquaintances mostly only get the side of me that, over the years, I whittled into a smooth, hard surface–the shiny varnished side upon which the many mistakes, from deep cuts to superficial scratches, can hardly be seen. Most remain Facebook or Instagram (et al) friends, which allows me to reconcile the lapse of relationship within my conscience and keeps me apprised of what they are presently up to. Every now and then I “like” a picture or post a pithy comment to remind them that I exist. This works for me. Of course I have those moments in the darkness, when I’m lying awake, floundering in the vast ocean of my soul, that I find myself bereft at the idea that I’ve let a staggering amount of great people leave my life never to be seen again. But then I stare into the beautiful blue glow of my cellphone screen and sensibly chuckle at some dank memes as they carry me off to a different mental plain.

The cellphone is such an amazing tool. It simultaneously connects us to each other in almost every conceivable way while also allowing us as much distance as we may desire. 20 years ago, when I was 10 and landlines were a thing, the phone would ring and I would literally run to answer it. Not only was I excited just to find out who was calling (is it Oma?), but I also loved the phone we had. It hung on the wall with a knotty five-foot cord and had a clear plastic case so you could see the solder-laden circuit boards with their tiny fuses and multi-colored wires… oops— nostalgia, sorry. Anyways, as I was saying, as opposed to my enthusiasm for communication when I was younger, my cellphone exists to allow me to actively screen my incoming calls or text instead of talk. I honestly don’t know why I’m so avoidant, other than that while I do genuinely love and enjoy interacting with people, I also have an internal world that I must retreat to— sometimes for months at a time— to recharge my batteries. An introverted extrovert. Kind of an asshole, too. But this internal world, which I touched on in Part One, is at least partly a construct of generational tendencies.

Of course, my avoidance manifests in a lot of ways you would expect, too: Roughly six-months per oil change, job-hopping, unreturned emails, most things done at the last minute, waiting until my late 20s to return to college. I smoke too many cigarettes, drink too much beer. I tend to avoid reality and put things off as long as I can. Perhaps this is just my personality, perhaps not. I do know plenty of functional, driven, emotionally healthy people my age or younger. Either way, and it could just be those I’ve chosen to associate with, a lot of the millennials I’ve met could be considered late bloomers. What I mean by this is that there are many of us, college-educated or not, who have been forced to carve out a meager existence in service or clerical work. Granted, a great deal of this could be attributed to our coming-of-age and responsibility amidst the Great Recession, the carefully calculated economic disaster that wrought the worst economic conditions seen in the US since The Great Depression, but few of us have even had an opportunity to pursue career-oriented work. Once again, there are those that had the clarity, vision and fortitude to find a career and pursue it early and relentlessly. But I don’t think it’s that easy for most.

When you grow up being told you can be anything (an astronaut, a movie star, POTUS), it can be difficult, then, picking something practical off the list of career options. When everyone is slated for greatness, there are few that want to do the dirty work. I think a lot of us are dreamers, and can’t accept that we may only be capable of humble accomplishments (myself included). We all want to make our mark upon the world. And social media has in some capacity allowed us to claim our small part of the spotlight, which only perpetuates the myth. Irrespective of that, I don't think enough of us go to trade schools, instead pursuing impractical degrees that allow us to further develop our personal expression and little else. We get stuck with non-transferrable debt, a lot of it, and are forced to do whatever it takes to repay it. But despite the half-truth that was hammered into my brain from an early age (that I have to go to college if I want to do anything with my life and that, in fact, if I don't go to college, I will be forever shoeless and destitute), the truth is that no matter the level of education or experience, the cream always rises to the top. That much will never change. And so we’re left with a surplus of this or this. Passive participation, or just doing your best, becomes the norm and then we all suffer.

I think that some of the meanness that informs opinion about millennials ignores a few key facts. Aside from the Great Recession, there are a few other political/economical events that shaped the world we found ourselves thrust into: the post-9/11, post-NAFTA, post-climate change, presumptive TPP world in which jobs are becoming less standard, reliable and changing into more freelance and contract work. This’ll be the topic of Part Three of Generation Why?, and the likely conclusion. Thanks for reading and feel free to comment!