The Gaslighting of the Millennial Generation

Born Again Minimalist

I was in graduate school when I first heard the term “millennial.” It was at a conference. The session was about how to serve millennial students, because they have different characteristics than the Generation X students that went before them. It was here that I first started hearing things like “millennials need to be recognized for participation,” “millennials feel they are special,” “millennials are sheltered,” “millennials are likely to have helicopter parents,” and more. Society as a whole loves to hate on the millennial generation (those born between 1980-1999), calling us “special snowflakes” and sarcastically referring to us as “social justice warriors,” calling us out for “being offended by everything” and, everybody’s favorite, pointing out how very entitled we are.

Here’s the secret: We’re not.

millennial late for work.jpg

The negative opinions directed at millennials are a perfect example, on an enormous societal scale, of cultural gaslighting.

What’s Gaslighting?

Glad you asked. I learned…

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Another Event, Another Chance

The photo assignments keep coming. This week I got to take promotional photos for an upcoming stage production when the production managers went on an independent web radio show, and in a few hours I’ll be taking pictures for a campus event. With luck, this will start leading to paid assignments.

Looking Up?

When I first got my camera bundle and my LLC last year, I knew it would be a while before things took off with it. Now they’re starting to happen. It’s slow, but it’s coming. I just need to stay focused and keep my eye on the prize.

On another note…

There are times I dislike the sensitivity of my phone’s keys. I was on Instagram checking out updates from acquaintances when the suggested friends suddenly came up and I accidentally “followed” my batshit insane younger brother. I quickly unfollowed him, but the little stain sent me a message accusing me of cyberstalking him. This from a boy who has spent the last three and a half years stalking my every online post and using it to attack me on his blog. I refused to even dignify his accusation with a response and blocked him. But naturally, he’ll go around telling anyone and everyone he thinks will believe him that I’m now following him. UGH.

It just keeps coming

Two Rooms Plus Utilities

When you live with a body that never gets things right, well, eventually, nothing ever surprises you. Doing something incorrectly is as second nature to my body, as breathing is.

If you live in Scotland and you are aged over 50, every two years they send you out a bowel cancer test kit. All you have to do is supply a smear of your stools, from three separate dates within a ten day period, then post it back to them. It’s that simple and free, so to not do it, seems rather silly. I have to admit that I didn’t do the first one when it arrived, as it arrived on my 50th birthday, not exactly something that filled me with joy, in fact, I put it in the bin. Well, I already knew without someone rubbing it in, just how old I had become. Three weeks ago, my third…

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The Projects Are Coming

Last week I had the opportunity to do my first group photo shoot. I have to say, it was incredibly fun. When I got back to my room I found out what a toll the evening had taken on me when I started nodding off almost immediately on sitting down at my desk, but it was so worth it. The clients and I worked really well together and they want to have me back to photograph their upcoming events, which are centered on a stage production. I’m hoping this finally starts leading to paid work, because I certainly could use the income. I didn’t spend the money on a camera and prime lens just for hobby, after all.

I’m finishing up editing on pictures from another shoot from last week. It’s a slow process because a lot more work goes into editing photos than many people realize, but I’m getting better at it.

Speaking of which, back to editing!

It comes to us all

I felt grief when Dad died. When “mother” passes…well, let’s just say I have a bottle of fine Hungarian wine I’ve been saving for years, waiting to be opened in relief that the violent, hateful old hag can no longer hurt anyone.

Two Rooms Plus Utilities

I knew the second that I heard his voice, that what I was about to hear wasn’t going to be good news. In fact, the last time I heard from him was back in April 2014, but you can’t mistake my little brother, he’s the only one of us with an Aberdonian accent. We’re not exactly a close family and the contact between us has been sporadic over the past 30 odd years. That didn’t stop it hurting when I heard the words I knew were coming. “Mums dead”.

It doesn’t matter how much bad feeling, pain or even time has passed since you last saw them, the death of a parent hurts. It was just the same when my brother phoned me in 2012 to convey a similar message about my Father and our relationship, had been a thousand times worse, than the one I had with my Mother. For…

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