Growing up, my older friends would tell me I wasn’t Gen X in a snarky manner. I was clearly Gen Y as I was born in 1979. I was happily a Gen Yer. Then suddenly the term “Millennial” started to get used. I honestly thought Millennials were the generation behind me. I still called myself Gen Y and thought it was awesome that we were largely being ignored by the world as no one talked about Gen Y anymore.
It was finally pointed out to me that Millennials are what Gen Y’s are now called. My first reaction was “I’m not a Millennial.” Then I dug deeper and found that I am not a Millennial. My birth year was moved to Gen X. I am not a Gen Xer. I’m lost as to where my place in sociology is.
My favorite color isn’t black and the greatness of ‘The Breakfast Club’ is lost to me. I also have no idea what the hell “craft” means. The term makes me crabby like an old person whose time in society is slipping away. I almost started boycotting Peet’s Coffee and Tea because their cups now says something along the lines of “Craft coffee since 1974.” (That’s a guess. I have no idea when Peet’s was founded) The only thing that prevents me from no longer going to Peet’s again is the baristas actually know what a London Fog is. I hate explaining to the clueless person at Starbucks what the drink is.
A generation doesn’t define you as an individual but it just tells you the group you belong to in society and history. Then something slightly horrifying happened. I became part of a micro generation called Xennials. I’m definitely not a hybrid.
Sure, making the year I was born in part of a micro generation makes sense but I’m holding tight to the belief my micro generation should be call Gen Y. Especially since the generation after Millennials is called Gen Z. Okay, I’m done with the ramble/rant. I’ll try to hurry up and have another schizoaffective episode so I can have something interesting to write about. Love and sparkles to you.
Gently Dented 
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