Mostly though I get tired of Baby Boomer
generation controlling so many of the official corporate narratives (of which
have become super entrenched in my lifetime – from both binary sides of the
political spectrum, as Reagan on has been somewhat of a tumorous explosion of
corporate powers starting to fill all the gaps and cracks in the settling
foundation of our constitutional republic). They act like two arguing white ass
rich as fuck 60-somethings is somehow a BOLD AND IMPORTANT CHOICE BETWEEN TWO
SUPER DIFFERENT same things (or at least not different enough for me to see
from too far down the socio-economic and psycho-social ladders). But really,
this is not about a same thing argument, because that’s been argued incessantly
the past six months, and I don’t need comfortable white people blowing up my @s
with how my lack of giving a fuck was the sword of Damocles with which Donald
Jose Trump is going to decapitate the Statue of Liberty with and destroy
freedom for everybody from marginalized communities (who never really had that
type of freedom to begin with).
What bothers me is how that generation feels
entitled to my support, from both sides of their limited spectrum (two), and
that for me to want anything else is out of line. I should clarify I’m a
40-something, thus in the bullshit cultural context of labelling generations, I
am Gen-X, not Baby Boomer, and have always felt very much like the younger
sibling to that generation, who will not fucking give up anything they have, at
all. They’ve held the wealth (we are the first American generation as Gen-X to
have less than the one before us), they’ve held the power, and they’ve involved
us as little as possible. We were too immature, or not focused enough on
traditional shit. We got too many shitty tattoos that ruined our ability to get
a real job. We loved too much dumb shit like cartoons and video games because
they, as our older sibling (parents) left us to raise ourselves in front of the
cable TV box and Nintendo machine (with old TV Guides holding the cartridge in
place) while they went out and accumulated all the fucking wealth in the newly
globalized world. We could manage their webpages and shit like that, and they
gave us a big enough cubicle we could set up some action figures, but we never
got access to the big table behind closed doors. Our bigger sibling was taking
the family business (if you consider United States a family, which I guess it
might be, just a fucked up dysfunctional one where there’s a lot of hatred),
and we were going to be given a token role.
As we went to escape from this through cultural
consumption, all of that reflected back (in the traditional formats) on them
though – the music they made, the books they wrote, the movies they made. They
were so fucking brilliant. Our music wasn’t even music, our books not even real
literature. We weren’t doing it right, which is why we weren’t at the big table
behind closed doors. Greedy fuckers. But they’d talk about that little bit of
time when they were protesting to make shit right in our aforementioned
fucked-up dysfunctional family, how they took to the streets in the ‘60s, and
all that accomplished. Self-important fuckers, owning everything, and looking
down on us.
Being the younger sibling was rough enough, but
then a third sibling came along, younger than us, cornily titled (because we
need corny titles for generations apparently) the Millennial generation. They
grew up in the second wave of games and devices and doodads behind us, and
whereas we had to fucking complain forever to get a Sega Genesis (being told
the Nintendo worked just fine, just stuff the TV Guide into it), they got like
19 different things to play with. And I ain’t really mad at them, because if we
could’ve gotten 19 different things, we would’ve took it too. Plus the younger
sibling is way more chill. The thing I don’t like though is how all you hear about
is them. Older sibling ain’t giving up no loot, no jobs, no wealth, and the
younger sibling got nothing. “Millennials deserve something too!” And they
start complaining in strange fractured ways through digital mediums that’s hard
to understand, but is also kinda our fault, because we used to show them all
this shit at a way too young age maybe. I don’t know. But as our older sibling
starts to look so tired and binary and full of shit, the family conversation skips
us completely, and jumps to younger Millennial sibling – what they’re gonna do,
and how they have to work with the older sibling to fix things, or just take
over roles from the older sibling completely, and make necessary changes to
ensure the family business (of pretending to be free) stays open for another
couple generations. Older sibling’s like “we gotta find a good job for youngest
sibling, make them a part of this thing!” because they’re sitting around,
getting gas money from part-time gigs, but yo, we ain’t really got shit
ourselves. They done forgot about us over here in our dank ass cubicles,
thinking we happy because we got a Junkyard Dog figure off ebay standing up.
Them old motherfuckers got vacations to St. Lucia and spend three weeks every
summer at the beach, and think we’re good because we got a goddamned JYD
figure, and go camping one week a year (because that’s all we can afford).
Younger sibling has taken the binary problem of
older sibling, and blurred the fuck out of it, to where they got a buffet of
genders and no real hardcore positive regard for those old racial structures.
And to be honest, I don’t really mind it – it makes more sense than what older
sibling still tries to enforce through their cultural control, but also it
feels overboard at times, like they’re just trying to piss people off, and do
wild shit to make the family uncomfortable. It doesn’t really bother us, but it
gets tiring when the two of them is arguing about shit, and we’re just sitting
there, mostly unheard but not really trying to speak that much at this point
anyways. Ain’t nobody listening.
Meanwhile, over the Labor Day cookout, older sibling was explaining how instead
of putting new variety of lights in the old home place, we should just keep the
same old off-on binary switch and just put in energy saver bulbs. They were
asking us which we liked better – the steak (Trump) or chicken (Clinton)
without even noticing we didn’t get any of either, opting for cole slaw, potato
salad, and kimchi (all of which we brought) and fat cup of homemade chai from
younger sibling. Older sibling has inherited control of the old family home
place as the eldest, and isn’t too keen on involving the rest of us, other than
suggesting what we should do and letting us do it so long as we agree with
them.
Younger sibling doesn’t really give a fuck to keep
the home place in any traditional order. When older sibling’s around, they act
like they’ll help keep it up, but when it’s just us, they’re like “lol I’m just
gonna live here until the place falls apart. I don’t have any money to fix it
up, so if it falls back into the Earth, fuck it, I’m just gonna go live on the
couch at my friend’s house.”
I smile when they say that, because that’s exactly
what we did, for like three years. But we got roped into the family business
with promises of growing into a bigger role, which never came. Older sibling
got us geeked on the way it’s always worked, so now we got a mortgage with
about 30% more owed on it than the bank value, so we ain’t moving nowhere, and
we can’t afford to even quit unless we want to disappear. Can’t even do that
because we got our own kids now, younger than Millennial sibling, and fuck,
some nights I lay awake stressing on how chaotic this world and the family
business falling apart must feel to them. Not to mention they living in the
constant glow of the tiny screen/mirror, to where they’ve got an altered view
of themselves. So we – as middle child – try to hold it together, try to keep
holding course, and hope it all works out, and we can provide for our own kids.
Make the shitty drive to work every day in my late model minivan with one
wobbly wheel (always the right front), maxed out on all devil spreadsheets
which older sibling told me years ago would naturally start turning from red to
green by now if I did everything like it had always been done. Motherfucker’s
more red than ever, with no green in sight. So I smile, because even though I
feel like my younger sibling gets all the attention, they’re right – fuck it. I
hope they do go live on their friend’s couch, and never get roped into sitting
in one of these stupid fucking cubicles, looking at their Junkyard Dog figure,
thinking that yes indeed, life thumped the spirit out of you.
Anyways, being the middle generational child
sucks. Older sibling gets all the shine, and is running shit at the family
business. Younger sibling got all the toys, and doesn’t even give a fuck about
the family business. Kinda wish I had the power of the eldest, or at least some
of it, but at the same time I don’t really want it because it’s pretty obvious
what a hypocrite my Baby Boomer elder sibling is. Kinda wish I had stayed
crashing on couches and abandoned any hope of assimilation into the family
business (of still pretending to be free) like it looks like my younger
Millennial sibling seems bent on doing. And at the same time, I can just see it
play out now – where older sibling just hands the whole fucking thing over to
younger sibling, and I’ll still be sitting here in the corner, overlooked,
fiddling around, pretending to care while really not caring at all. It feels
like I’ve wasted my life, and by whatever financial metrics one might use
(applying more of those devil spreadsheets logic), I likely have wasted it
mostly. Sadly, it also feels from basic quality of life heart check-ins that I
likely wasted it far worse than I’d like to admit. There’s been no pay-off, no
three weeks every summer at the beach, and no hope for retirement. But I’m
supposed to be thankful because unlike my younger sibling, at least I have a
job, one that I can’t ever quit, and won’t ever be promoted from.
Kinda wish my younger sibling would just burn the
house down, absolving us all of any responsibility for maintaining the
pretending to be free charade, and I can just wander off into the mountains.
Honestly, I’d probably help them if they asked, and likely it would work out
better because they’re always the best about planning things like that out,
what with self-snitching every waking thought through digitalia. But I’m not
gonna bring it up either, because they don’t give a fuck what I think. Nobody
does. So I just sit here, miserable and depressed and hopeless, but pretending
everything’s going to turn out okay.
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