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Musings of a confused twentysomething By
Leon D'souza
I am a dispirited member of the generally misunderstood and much-maligned "Me-generation." Faddish consumerism and the quest for "success" (whatever that is) characterize my world. Somewhere between MTV and MBA, I've lost track of what it is that I'm trying to achieve. Contentment eludes me as my peers are constantly redefining the meaning of the word. I am unable to think about the important things in life, because to put it plainly, I don't know what they are. The mass media have schooled me to believe that flaunting connections and material wealth is all that matters in this era of socialite-columnists and Page 3 journalism. Life is about dressing up and raking in the moolah! Swanky cars, dapper finery, credit cards, and weekends in some exotic destination. These are the ambitions thrust upon me. I am constrained by endless definitions of "cool." I am afraid to be myself, lest my own disown me. I love to think and philosophize, but those that study my generation caution that such mental activity will only earn me that abhorrent label -- nerd. I have to work hard and keep up on the grapevine talk to be "with it." Love and commitment do not necessarily go together. Unblushing brief romantic excesses are definitely in. I must fall in line or be left out. Television soaps and music videos justify my lifestyle. From marketing gurus to the parish priest, everyone tries to understand me. To the former, I am part of a lucrative segment of the consumer market. To the latter, I am a wayward adolescent in desperate need of guidance and God. I am weary and confused. What does society expect from me? Why must I wear so many hats? Why can't I be left alone? Why do people try to analyze me? My life is complicated as it is. Freudian therapy only makes it worse.
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