Surfers, Simple Living, & The Future of My Generation

I learned something new about myself last night:

I shouldn’t watch surf movies with my husband before going to bed.

Hm. When I say it like that, it seems to imply that I had an unfortunate liquid-related incident in my bed last evening. That’s not the case.

To be a bit more precise in my explanation, I shouldn’t watch movies that portray a relaxing, nature-embracing, simple-living kind of lifestyle–one that seems to be favored by most surfers. Because after watching only fifteen minutes of a surf documentary about a surfer and rock climber who took six months off of “real life” in between jobs to explore the world on a sailboat, I was ready to sell everything I own and buy a boat and sail out to Easter Island, like these two did.

Fine–if I’m being honest, I want to hang on to my jewelry, handbag, and art collection. Oh, and my iPhone. That’s it–everything else can go.

It’s interesting, really, to think about living such a simple lifestyle. I think it’s one that my generation will eventually embrace.

I read voraciously, and love studying generational theories (I can thank my program director, Dr. Ross, for introducing me to this topic in college!). From what I’ve read on my own generation–the ”Millenials”, or “Mosaics”, as we’re sometimes called–it seems that we’re the most egocentric and entitled, but informed and socially-minded generation in history.

We constantly post status updates about ourselves on Twitter and Facebook (and have the gall to think that anyone actually cares what we’re eating for lunch), a Wikipedia article about anything under the sun is accessible to us at any moment, and we dabble in thousands of different interests at once.

At the same time, however, this is the generation that rethought new ways to contribute to the welfare of the underprivileged, as evidenced in companies like TOMS shoes. We’re the generation that invented a way to make a contribution to others via text message donations, whether it be starving children in Africa, AIDs relief efforts, or donations to help earthquake or tornado victims. And we think nothing about spending extra on bottled water or kitschy t-shirts, if it helps others.

We’re also under more pressure and balancing incredibly heavy expectations, compared to any other generation in history. I feel dizzy when I think about the pace of my day-to-day schedule–and it’s nothing compared to the bevy of activities I was handling in high school and college. 18-hour days crammed with multi-tasking every moment until my head hits the pillow at night have been a constant since I was fourteen.

And it’s only gotten worse, as I look at the students I work with. They simply can’t keep up with their increasingly demanding schedules.

You know what sort of comments I’m hearing from today’s teenagers?

“I hate texting. I hate keeping up with everyone all the time and always having to respond to them. I hate that stupid dinging, that tells me that someone wants to talk to me. I wish I could just get rid of my cell phone for good.”

“I’m so over Facebook. I’m sick of watching everyone pretend like they’ve having the time of their lives, all the time. It’s just a brag-book. I hate it.”

“Do you ever wonder what it’s like to be Amish? I mean, to just live simply and provide for yourself and not worry about anything else? It must be great.”

I’ve read that every generation rebels against their parents’ generation. It seems to hold true–the Baby Boomers definitely stood for the exact opposite of everything that their parents embraced and instead turned to mystical influences, free love, and relaxed and fluid lifestyles. And, in turn, their children chased status and wealth and stability in their careers. Just look at the rise of labels and Wall Street in the 1980s alone–that gives you a picture of what they craved.

So, what will our generation rebel against? What will we look like in the future, and how will we affect the world?

Maybe, as history unfolds, it will prove me wrong. But I think that this fledgling generation will give up status and wealth and success in favor of living more simply.

I think we’ll rebel against our frantic childhoods, crammed chock-full of piano lessons and football practice and student council meetings and find our stride in embracing just a few activities we really enjoy as adults.

I think we’ll see more and more people giving up the idea of owning a massive home and a closet full of designer clothes, and living like the surfer and rock-climber in the documentary I watched last evening–where, instead of saving money to splurge on tangible “status items”, they’ll choose to invest in intangible experiences like traveling the world on a boat.

I think this generation will care more about connecting with friends and family than having thousands of friends on Facebook. They’ll give up the concept of texting dozens of people at once, and will instead choose to share their lives fully with a select few.

I think this generation will give up the idea of conformity in a corporate-based world, and will instead celebrate diversity as they unite in their beliefs that we’re all out there to help each other. Don’t forget–we’re the kids that grew up with teamwork ingrained in our very souls from infancy, as we ran laps together for soccer practice and shared Valentines and cupcakes with everyone in grade school. Individuality will be less important, because the overriding idea will be that we’re all one big team. Hence, the passion for social justice and the idea that we should take care of everyone on this planet.

I think our short attention spans will influence everything around us, from television shows to literature to trends. But I think we’ll enthusiastically bounce from one thing to another, and a plethora of newness will spring from our generation, as people throw themselves into something they truly love and are inspired to do, no matter what sort of paycheck it affords them at the end of the month.

Of course, the inevitable outcome is that our children, someday, will rebel against us.

And thus, the chain of history continues.

To paraphrase one of the insightful comments I heard from the surf movie I watched last night, “The greatest lesson in history is that men never learn from the lessons of history.”

I think these surfers definitely had that right.

And if they had that right–then maybe they’re right about this whole “live simply” idea.

Compliments That Double As Insults: On Being Called “Barbie”, “Crazy”, & the Twin of an African-American Girl

Do people ever tell you things about yourself that make you cringe?

It seems to happen to me. Quite a bit.

Usually, people offer up something that they think is a compliment, but actually unwittingly insult me in the process. They mean well, so I can’t get angry–but it makes my soul wince in agony sometimes.

In college, a guy who had a crush on me once remarked that I reminded him of a certain actress he found attractive. When I pressed him for a name, he airily remarked, “I don’t know her name. It’s that one with the super-annoying voice, don’t you know who I’m talking about?”

Owch. I remind him of a woman with an annoying voice? Zing.

Another one of my friends has been telling me for years that he thinks I’d enjoy the show Madmen. While my husband was in Jamaica on a mission trip a few weeks ago and I was bored silly, I decided to fire up the ol’ Netflix and check out this show. I could sum up the show in three short words: 1960s, booze, and plentiful affairs.

Why did my friend think I’d love that show? Do those sound like things I do on the weekend? Do I enjoy watching people self-destruct on television? My self-esteem sprung a small leak there.

I only mildly resembled Barbie's platinum 'do at one point in my life....

Or take this recent happening–I was standing around talking to several adults and teenagers, and someone remarked, “Gee, Cassie, you look just like a Barbie doll today.” I looked down and realized that I was wearing a silky pink shirt, black pencil skirt, and high hot-pink heels and did somewhat resemble a Barbie doll.

Later, I remembered that my own Barbie had the exact same peep-toe heels in the late 80s–so their remark was definitely accurate. But nevertheless, I found myself loathing the idea that I resembled Barbie–of all the toys on this planet. Ugh. Why not an intelligent toy that didn’t drive around in a plastic pink Jeep?

It’s really amazing how personal the well-meaning attack on your character can get sometimes. I once had a guy I dated briefly try to talk me out of becoming a Christian youth leader. His reasoning? “I just think you’d be better off as a nurse–you know, something that actually requires a bit of intelligence.”

It ended quickly. No further explanation needed.

One of the most vicious attacks on my personal sense of style came about a year ago, when a student of mine dared me to step away from my signature tropical wardrobe and intentionally “dress down”, wearing clothes that reflected a sedate Midwest color palette. I donned the plainest clothes I could dig out of my closet: dark jeans, plain brown flip flops, a dark navy t-shirt, and a crocheted cream sweater. I wore no jewelry or makeup and did my hair in a bun to top off the extreme “Anti-Cassie Experiment”.

I kid you not: I had no less than four students compliment me on my outfit that evening. And one of them dared to burst my ego with a well-intentioned, “Oh, Cassie, you look so comfortable tonight!”

Comfortable? Yeah, maybe that’d be a nice description if I was wearing my pajamas. No woman wants to be told she looks comfortable. That’s like the equivalent of telling Lady Gaga that she looks normal–she just doesn’t want to hear it.

It packs the same self-esteem punch as a comment that men unwittingly make on a regular basis to women: “Oh, you look tired today.”

Translation to that woman’s mind? “You look absolutely awful. Noticeably uglier than usual. So much so that I actually recognized your hideousness and chose to make a comment on your physical appearance.”

Men, you’ve been warned. Don’t do it.

The ultimate remark that still makes me cringe, though, takes the cake:

During my freshman year of college, an acquaintance came barging into my room one day with her friend while I was diligently finishing my art history homework, and insisted on borrowing my Disneyland pass so she could sneak her friend into the park without paying. I resisted automatically, without raising my eyes from my book. That’s when this acquaintance said forcefully, “Look, Cassie, you guys look EXACTLY alike. They won’t even notice. You guys could pass for twins, seriously.”

I met eyes with the girl she was talking about–my “twin”.

She was a very plump, dark-skinned African-American girl with long black hair down to her waist wearing a belly shirt and tight pleather pants.

I was a slender white girl with short blonde hair just below my ears, wearing a button-up shirt and shorts.

That one stung at the time. I can laugh about it now, but I spent the better part of a month trying to figure out what that girl saw in the two of us that, in her mind, made us look “exactly alike”.

Am I the only one who’s ever experienced this, or is my life just that odd?

Oh, well. At least the maintenance guy who came to repair our internet connection today told my husband he liked my “crazy sense of decorating style” in our apartment.

I’ll just pretend that he didn’t use the word “crazy” to describe my taste in interior design.