There’s a time when each generation passed, has looked back at their life’s accomplishments with a sense of nostalgia and self-satisfaction. I picture an old couple sitting on the stoep on a rocking chair on an autumn afternoon, sipping on cool lemonade, each trying to piece together fragmented and hazy remembrances of a time long gone. However vague their personal recollections may be, their generation’s triumphs will echo forever in history.
As a 26 year old I find asking myself if my generation has any substantial addition to the history of the world.
With the advent of the internet:
The rise of the bloggers has seen real journalism take the backseat. You don’t have to research your subject anymore, just write what you feel…express yourself. Nowadays anyone and EVERYONE has a voice. But in a room of a thousand voices, which one do we listen to?
Even music has suffered immensely with the shrinking of the world, vis a vis the online world-wide network. As a result, there are more “artists” than fans. You don’t have to study the art, or even have a talent to pick up some software and copy-and-paste your way into the Billboard charts. A hit is just a mouse click away.
People are no longer trying to invent something new, they would rather take what already exists and supersize it. There is no original thought. We live in the world of reality tv, where we watch people living their lives, no story line, no well thought out mystery, just a normal family going shopping and feeding the kids.
Should we even be worried though? Is it not just a natural progression of things? Life is continuously evolving, should we not embrace this new state of being, this age of digital art? Do we need to go back and revisit the past to learn from the previous generation, or have we forged our own identity, however fickle or erratic it may seem?
There is a false sense invincibility that clouds my generation, we go through life with a gung-ho attitude that does not lend itself to criticism and guidance. Are we the generation that refused to grown up? At the end of it all, we too shall find ourselves on that oak rocking chair, lamenting on opportunities missed, love lost, and other forlorn memories, and we’ll inevitably have to answer the same question: What will my generation be remembered for?