Generation Me

I feel as though I need to talk about old folks. I feel like after bashing young people yesterday I need to talk about the older set.

When I say old folks, I mean the people that are over 30 and have children. Last night my brother was complaining about Generation Me. It's "Me, me, me" with this up and coming generation. We have our hands out-constantly expecting them to be filled. He said when he was in school, he was happy to get a B on something, nowadays we fight our way to A's. I have one thing to say to that. Hell yes. I refuse to settle for less.

See I don't believe I deserve handouts of any sort. I believe in good old hard work-give-me, give-me, is not my motto. I will agree, though, that some do expect to be taken care of. But back to what I was saying-

Who sets these standards for us but our parents? Do they not realize that we undergo evolution, whether or not they know it. Think about sports. I'm sure at one time 60 seconds was a good 400 meter time, but people get better and faster over time. Times change, and people must also change. We must find something new to strive for. Plus it seems like anything less than perfect these days is irrelevant. I didn't set these rules, I just follow them. Parents do nothing but perpetuate the cycle that says almost doesn't count. You almost won. Well almost doesn't count Little Matthew. Any parent who says they don't pressure their children into greatness is lying.

My dad used to tell me that I had to be like my cousin Cicely. Cicely found herself a good man-she did everything the right way. She's educated, she knows how to talk to people. You should too. I love my cousin, and she is a great woman, but I think that parents should allow their children to carve out their own mold, not fit the perfect one before them.

Yesterday my professor accused me of trying to smooth talk my way through life when I'm actually sometimes DEAD wrong. That statement pissed me off, even though that's accurate. He wasn't saying it because he knew me. He has me in his class an hour and a half, twice a week. For mass communications-a class with no assignments, just a midterm and final. What could I possibly smooth talk my way through? He was trying to lump me together we those sorry excuses for students that he deals with daily. I have this philosophy: If you can get into something, then you can get out of it. That's when my smooth talking comes into play.

In conclusion, I'd like to thank competing mom cheerleading coaches fixing competitions, and dads fighting at peewee football games for us fighting our way to the top. Let's not forget about those go-getter moms who fight other women on Black Friday for toys for their children. Next time you point a finger at the younger generation, remember that lame cliche about how many are pointing back at you...