From the Archives: Dear Adults (Episode 3)

Hi guys!

Just a small foot note before I start the rant discussion: I know that in the previous episode (link), I said that I was going to talk about grades the next episode, but a couple days later I ended up writing a super awesome episode which both of my parents approved of, so that's what I'm posting today.

Whooooooo's ready? I AM.

What do you want to be when you grow up?

The first time I wrote a Dear Adults letter...episode...thingie (uh...?), it was with the intention of destroying the phrase, ‘these are the best years of your life, so enjoy ‘em’. Shudder. As most of you know, I utterly ripped it to shreds, pointing out how incredibly insulting it was, no matter the interpretation. It was pretty popular, probably because I went to town on it and was aggressive, sarcastic, but also somewhat fair on the topic.

Today, I’m going to attempt (attempt!) to do the exact same thing, but with a new phrase. You guessed it: what do you want to be when you grow up?

This phrase always confuses me, and has since I was a little kid. If you can imagine little five year old Noelle, all blonde hair and goofiness, drawing away. I’ve asked around, and can I dispel a myth on the side - artists are not made through practice alone. Yes, practice will dramatically benefit you, as well as getting good teachers who encourage you, friends who can critique you, proper ‘artist quality’ supplies, and exploring new styles. But I was born an artist, with actual talent. I don’t know if that’s a bad thing or a good thing, and honestly, it’s just a thing. BUT BACK ON TOPIC.

When I was a little kid, I distinctly remember relatives and friends of relatives asking me, “What do you want to me when you grow up?”

Scenario #1:
Them: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Me: An arc-ee-olly-gist. (or whatever the heck I wanted to be at the time. There was a time when I thought ‘frog breeder’ was a thing. I was horrified to discover it isn’t)
Them: But you’re such a great drawer*! You should be an artist! You’d be great at it!

Scenario #2:
Them: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Me: I dunno
Them: How about a scientist? Or a mathematician?**
Me: Can I be a singer?
Them: uh
Me: An artist?
Them: Sure sweetie

And then they’d kinda brush me off, like, ‘who cares, it’s just a little girl’. They have a point, I was five, and my concept of the future only went as far as my age - in minutes. Whatever the future was, it only existed for five minutes, and beyond that was an empty abyss that didn’t matter at all.

*Side note: Drawer is not a real word. It took me years to figure this out, because adults kept using around me
**Double side note: what exactly do mathematicians do, anyway? Cuz I didn’t have a CLUE as a child and I still don’t

What interests me is: if you’re not going to be happy with what I say, then why bother asking? Don’t even try to argue, ‘It’s just asking a kid a question, no big deal’ because I have been asked this all my life, even to this day! And what’s really interesting, and partially insulting, is that while the two scenarios haven’t changed, people’s reactions have. It seems the older I get, the more people expect me to abandon my dreams and give up life as a hopeless cubicle slave.

I mean this totally literally, of course.

Here, I’ll prove it:

Scenario #1:
Them: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Me: A author
Them: But you’re such a great drawer [still not a word]! You should be an artist! You’d be great at it!
Me: I know, but writing is my real passion, and I’d like to be an author.
Them: What kind of author?
Me: Fiction, probably young adult/fantasy. I like to work with a bunch of different subje-
Them: You know there’s already a bunch of great young adult authors, right? [No, really, people flat out said that to me. Way to be encouraging to the next generation]

Scenario #2:
Them: What do you want to be when you grow up?
Me: I’m not sure, exactly [I’ve refined a bit since my five year old years]
Them: Well, you’re in high school. Gotta chose that degree sooner or later, or else you’ll end up in your parent’s basement haha.
Me: Well I really enjoy art, writing, and music.
Them: So you really want to be in your parents basement.
Me: No, I think that anybody can make money doing something they love and-
Them: Entitled generation! Selfie generation! Spewing stuff about politics!
Me: *backs away slowly*

Okay, maybe it doesn’t go exactly like that, but I’d still appreciate it if my dreams were taken seriously. ANYWAY. Back to the main point: why exactly do adults ask, ‘what do you want to be when you grow up?’

When you’re a kid, the most you’ll be exposed to is the basic, heroic jobs, like police man, firefighter, astronaut - the kind of people that appear on TV, encouraging children across good ol’ America to eat healthy, stay and school, and don’t do drugs. When you’re a teenager, you’re expected to start getting your pathetic life together and to chase a passion that will land you a job with lots of money, ambition, respect, and room to eventually rise to the top - jobs like lawyers, doctors, scientists, etc. Stray outside the lines of normal answers, and you’ll be perceived as strange and, God forbid, thinking for yourself.

Because that’s what it boils down to: the phrase, ‘what do you want to be when you grow up,’ isn’t about what you actually want to be. When I was a kid, I wanted to be an archeologist, and that got shoved aside as kid weirdness - which it was, because I decided to chase my real passion. As a teenager, I’m not expected to follow those passions - I’m expected to be looking for a high paying, socially-acceptable job, and nothing else. Oh, and as a girl, I’m supposed to be looking for the perfect husband (angels sing in the distance) and want to have eight children in the future.

Okay, well here’s the truth (are you braced for it? You certain? Hold onto your hat, hang onto your baloney sandwich)

I want to be an young adult author.

I want to live in a tiny house, which I am already roughly designing.

I want to have a bunch of pets, like a cat and two sugar gliders, to keep me company while I write.

I don’t want children.

I don’t want to work in a cubicle like what seems to be 87% of society does.

I want to do what I love, and if I make money from it, then that’s all the better.

And here’s the best part: I’m already chasing my dream. Forget ‘when you grow up’, because that’s the most insulting, rude, ill-mannered, uncivil part of this question. It implies that, as a teenager, I can’t do anything more than dream of the future, get good grades in school, and hope that a college will allow me to give them thousands of dollars for an education and a piece of paper that makes me a socially-acceptable adult. It implies that I am not chasing my dreams. It implies that I have to be over 21 to have a job, be a member of society, and to have a voice.

It implies that my voice doesn’t matter.

I know that’s not what you mean, adults, I really do. But here’s some news: I already am working towards that future of a tiny house. I’m already making my mark as an author, blogger, and artist, and I don’t mean to be a braggart, but I think I’m doing pretty good for a teenager! So I ask you: what do you want to be when you grow up?

I like to finish off these Dear Adults post with a diagnosis, and the last few diagnoses have all been the same: staaaaph. HOWEVER. That’s not what’s happening today. Today, the diagnosis is: trade the phrase for, or ‘what are your hobbies?’ It’s better-mannered, is more respectful of what they enjoy doing, and ultimately has the same basic meaning.

Adults: Yeah, just, trade out the questions. No big deal.

Teenagers: CHASE THOSE DREAMS, YO!!! Also, next time you have to go to a social gathering where you’ll eventually be asked this question, here’s the ideal way to deal with it - smile, nod the entire time, and when the question finally drops, just say with your most dazzling smile, “A grave digger.”

(bonus points if you get a picture of their reaction)

Bye!

P.S.
I know not every adult asks this, and I know that you don’t mean it like this.  Chill your beans.

Double P.S.
Comment below with what phrase or aspect of teenager-hood I should talk about in the next episode!

From the Archives: Dear Adults (Episode 2)

Yo

As you MAY (just might have) guessed from the title, I’m doing another Dear Adults episode today! Hopefully this one is as interesting as the previous one, which you can read here.

Alright, the subject of today’s Dear Adults episode is: we are an electronic generation. What’s the big deal?

To clarify what I mean, I’ll give a little example: this blog. It’s completely electronic, isn’t it? That’s pretty much what a blog (or vlog) is - a completely electronic, creative platform that’s very popular. Invented in 1997, this platform has appealed to many, many writers and artists (and stay-at-home moms) because of its openness and informality.

As many of you know, I work a LOT on this blog. I’d say between admin work, writing, finding subject matter, and convincing new authors to give blogging a try, I’d average about 7 to 8 hours a week on my two blogs (including Steve the Wimpy Dragon) It is, so to speak, my secondary job, after doing well in school. It’s a job I enjoy, a job that I relish in, but it’s a job, all the same, and it requires a lot of work (just like any real hobby)

My teachers (I won’t name who, for politeness’ sake) claim that ‘this generation never slows down to admire the world around them, be truly creative, and to just play like children again’. Is that so?I guess I’ll just have to stop writing my books and blogs. Or drawing my artwork and painting every second I can. Or thinking about the world around me and worrying about the modern politics of our nation.

A sales person at Lowes laughs with my Mom about how ‘kids are always on their phone, I know how you feel!’ because I’m editing a picture for my blog (heck, I don’t even have a phone! It was Mom’s!)
True, my teachers are exaggerating, and the sales person was probably just trying to make a joke. We’re living in the most electronically-intertwined years that have ever existed on the planet, and the idea of a teenager having a phone generally brings up a negative image of Instagram, selfies, texting and driving, and acronyms taking up the majority of time in a teen’s day, which could be better spent on studying their school work, upping their grades or spending time with friends. (and may I add, slightly off subject: are grades really the point?? I’ll probably talk about it next Dear Adults episode)

And yet, when I go out in public (yes, I actually do leave the house sometimes. I’m not a complete vampire...yet), what do I see? ADULTS. WITH PHONES.

Adults are probably muttering at this point, saying things like, “Not all adults...” Take off your fedora, adult reading this post, and listen to me: that argument goes both ways. “Not all teenagers.”

Most of the people that I’m friends with, actually, don’t have phones. I’m not even talking about us ‘sheltered homeschoolers’. Public schoolers! Private schoolers! All of them, all participating in games, chatting with friends, enjoying life, and what’s best: not on their phone.

But back to my original point - when I got out in public, I see lots, and lots, and LOTS of adults with phones. When I went to the art museum recently, what did I see? Adults, sitting around on their phones, not even paying attention to the amazing pieces of 20 x 20 foot artwork literally right in front of them! People texting while walking right past Van Gogh paintings! If that isn’t enough to truly horrify you, then get this: the people who weren’t on their phone were teenagers and kids younger than me, who were absolutely amazed and thrilled to be there.

Look, it’s true. I admit that this generation of kids are much more electronically-involved than any generation before us. We are always typing, snapping, texting, lol-ing, whatever the heck you people are doing these days on your phones, computers, and gaming devices.

But it’s incredibly, completely insulting to assume that doesn’t mean we’re not creative, or that we don’t take time to admire and attempt to improve the world around us, because of a small glowing screen.
The world is a crazy place (the presidential election has definitely proved that) As teenagers, there’s not much we can do - we can’t vote, we don’t really have a voice, and as I’ve proved, no matter what we do, adults assume that we’re just goofing off. It makes me really sad that people think of it like that. And yes, “not all adults think like that.”  And neither are all teenagers.  You don't get to generalize around here.

I know that this episode was a little shorter than the last one, but let’s wrap this up, because I’ve made my point, very, very clearly. Diagnosis: staaaaaph.

Adults - stop making assumptions.

Teenagers - stop making it so easy for adults to belittle people your age. You can be creative. You can change the world. Prove it.

And I think that this episode has pointed out something else - while this blog series is labeled “Dear Adults”, the problems I discuss need to go both ways. It’s more than just teenagers pointing fingers at adults and whining. I’m not saying, “We’re a self-entitled generation that DESERVES to be treated better because we’re all special snowflakes and have opinions!”

No, that’s not how it works. It needs to be a mutual discussion.

So, in conclusion...next time you see a teenager in public with their phone, don’t tsk. Respect them as a human being who has dreams, creativity, and hopes for the future. Have a great week, and comment below with which issue “Dear Adults” should address next!

From the Archives: Dear Adults (Episode 1)

Hi guys!!!

It's another archive post.  This was originally posted on a blog blog written by all teenagers, some soon to be adults - although I don't really get that.  Are 17 year olds supposed to wake up one day and be like, "Oh goodie, now I'm an adult!  Time to pay taxes, go to college, get a job, and search for a potential mate before my family buys me cats and/or tries to set me up with a snot-nose who's twice my age!"

Yup.

Fair warning, this new blog post series will be pretty much made up of extremely unnecessarily judgmental rants directed in adults' direction.  Sorry.  (Except I'm not.  Writing this post was so fun.)

Today's edition of Dear Adults is discussing that hallowed, decrepit phrase - "these are the best years of your life, so enjoy 'em!"

*Teenagers everywhere shudder*

First of all, this phrase makes me think of aunts who smell like cats and cigarette smoke and bake you oatmeal raisin cookies that you're forced to gag down because your mother is giving you this look:

The "Be polite now because we're in public and I can't kill you yet" look

(she posed for this.  Thanks Mom)

OR, a distant friend of your mom's, with two bratty kids and a screaming baby who they call "their little cupcake".  You barely know this woman and had the misfortune of running into her in like, the commissary.  (Or the grocery store, for you civilians)

These are NOT good images people.

Secondly.......WHAT?!

These are the best years of my life?!  Just what do you think a teenagers life is actually like?  Let's take a step back now and look at the teenager's mind.  Like literally, what is going on up there?

I know, for me, I'm stressed over school, wondering if I should get a job (and if I can balance my hobbies with money-making and not be miserable), concerned about where I'm going and what I should do with my life, worried that my dreams will never come true and I'll be staggering around in a land fill begging the pigeons for food when I'm 40 because I got an B- on that quiz last week instead of a A.  Teenagers are, in general, an emotional mess, drenched in rampant hormones they don't know how to deal with, and are covered in pressure - and not just peer pressure, but pressure from their teachers, parents, coaches, extracurriculars, A.P. classes, bosses, etc.

Ah, to be young and carefree!

So maybe I'm happy - which is what I'm guessing this phrase is implying, because otherwise, what the heck, thanks jerk for reminding my how sad, lonely, and miserable my life is going to be.  So maybe I'm just content to allow life to happen and feel the breeze and the auras around me and wow the sun is so beautiful!!

(no, I'm not a hippie.  I've never met a hippie teenager.  Peace, yo)

Anyway, even if I'm happy...these are the best years of my life!?

My life?!!?

Human life expectancy is about 80 years of age and stretching with every scientific discovery about genetics and what we're made of (and dropping every time a new Burger King joint opens its doors)  These are the best years of my life?  I won't enjoy my 20s or my 50s or my 80s or any other time as much as my tumultuous, miserable teenage years?  There won't be a single day where I'm sitting in a rocking chair in my 60s as the summer breeze drifts around me,my one year old grandchild asleep in my lap like an adorable squishy couch potato, and I say, "This is the best time of my life,"?

This is not promising.  Or encouraging, or cute, or 'enjoy-it'-inducing, or whatever the heck was supposed to be.

This is a threat.

It is literally promising that no matter how sucky life is at the moment, heh, it's only downhill from here!  Have fun with our 19.4 TRILLION dollar national debt, the responsibility of figuring out whether humans are actually melting the planet or if that's just political hype, plague, famine, pestilence, World War 3, and Trump (or Clinton.  Either way:

Conclusion: This phrase is so insulting on so many levels I'm surprise it even became a thing.  It was probably invented by the same guy who put the 's' in lisp.  And puts sharp corners on hip-height furniture.

Diagnosis:  Destroy it!  If an adult ever says this to you teens, feel free to slap them, with a fridge, or something lighter, like a scorpion.  Or let loose the fire of hell and tell them a thing or two (you can quote me!  I won't sue)

Or you can just force an awkward laugh and nod politely before exiting like a sweatshirt-ed ninja.

Since that's what we're doing anyway.

Sincerely,

Teens.

P.S.

I hope it was extremely clear that I meant this post to be as ridiculously sarcastic and offensively scathing as possible and that it was clear that I didn't literally mean to point fingers at anyone.  If you think this was too mean, tell me in the comments below.  Or complain to your friends about how weird and offensive this blog post was and give them a link.

Teens - tell me what Dear Adults I should do next!

Adults - Please stop telling kids that these are the best years of our life.

Literally, I didn't mean to hurt anyone's feelings.

Bye!  See you next week!

From the Archives: What To Do When an Essay Says 'Screw You'

Hi guys!
As many of you know, I've recently switched blogs.  There are a couple posts I actually really like, and I've decided to repost them on here.  Don't worry, I won't be spamming, it'll be posted over time, bit by bit.  This is the first part of it!  I hope you like it.  Today I Met presents:  What To Do When an Essay Says 'Screw You!'


***


Somewhere,
In a distant land, probably the living room, my mother is being scandalized by my language in this blog post title (sorry mom)  Anyway, today we are going to talk about that essay.  Yes, that one.  The one where you read the prompt and just want to repeatedly slam your head against the desk because you already know that this essay is going to be the dullest one in the history ever.

:(

No, today is not a complaining post (although my brain and wacked up emotions want it to be).  Today, we're going to go through the steps to...well, maybe not ROCK this essay, but at least survive it.

Alllllrighty.

Step 1:  Write an outline
Yes, I know, outlines suck. But this will make fleshing out your essay much easier.  Find out your essay's word limits and assign each paragraph a number of words.  This will help, trust me.

Step 2:  Flesh it out
Believe it or not, this is the easiest bit.  Write those paragraphs (and you don't have to be A-B-C but in the order you want/feel like writing.  This is called dessert writing, and many authors prefer this method!)  Try to stick with the word limit, but it's okay to go over a couple (hundred).  And remember, this is the time to give this essay personality.  Make it  yours and don't worry too much about it.

Step 3:  Editing Part 1
If you have time immediately after writing, then go back.  Fix grammar and spelling mistakes.  Cut extraneous material, but leave that creativity in!  And keep  ignoring that word count.

Step 4:  Your soul dies Editing Part 2
Step away.  Do something else.  If you can, wait till the next day.  NOW:

This is the hard part, when you have to look at your essay as a teacher and answer the questions they're going to ask themselves when they're grading this.

Does this essay cover the material?  Make sure in your rambles, you haven't gone off topic.  Read the prompt again.  Read your essay.  Be honest when yourself as you figure out what doesn't belong.

Is this essay fundamentally correct?  No, I'm not talking about your opinions.  I mean, formatting, grammar, and spelling.  Most high school teachers call for MLA formatting.  It sucks and looks stupid, but teachers love that format.

Ahem.

Also, listen up buttercup:

"Comma inside the quote," she said.  "And Around Short Story Titles.  Unless It's a Longer Book Title."

You claim you're not good with grammar?  You need to improve your skills.

That's their toy.

Give it to them, over there.

They're going to beat you over the head if you don't.

Its tail.  (possessive.  The tail that belongs to it)

It's a tail (it is a tail)

There, now none of your stupid excuses!  You've got nothing to hide behind.

Back on subject.

Is this essay formal?  It maybe dry, but you have to be formal in an essay UNLESS specifically instructed not to.  This means:

• Cutting words like 'kids'.  Use 'children' instead.
• Not using 1st Or 2nd person.  Instead one should use the term one when asserting one's opinion.  (I know, it doesn't make sense to me either.)

Alright!  You may feel yourself dying inside, but your essay is complete!  Now, do not stress about it!  You've finished it up as best you can.  Stress is bad for you.  Drink tea instead.

You deserved it ;)

(see you next week)