Tag: Millennial

A Disillusioned Generation


I’m 25 years old.

I arrived on this planet in the midst of a technological revolution. In my lifetime, my generation traveled from VHS to VR.  The generation before me had seen a man land on the moon.  With the internet, the knowledge of the world was now at our fingertips. Disney said “dream big,” our parents said, “aim high.”  The impossible was now possible. “We will do great things!”

There Is Hope


I will be the first to admit, I easily become very gloom and doom when looking at the state of our nation, especially when I talk about Millennials and Generation Z. I know young people get a bad rep – and to be fair – they deserve it. Seeing as I am technically on the older end of these self-described “woke” generations apparently wiser than their forebears, I can call it as I see it.

They are the first generations since our nation’s inception to protest for their rights to be taken away, who see kneeling during the anthem as a productive avenue for change, and are so emotionally weak they utilize university-sponsored coloring pages, cry-ins, and safe spaces to protect them from words they don’t like.

Since less than a third of Millennials say the United States is the greatest country in the world and in need of drastic change, they gather in droves to support a “new” system of government; a system already responsible for the deaths of over 100 million people.

Should childlesss Millennials be banned from theme parks? Should Millennials have children? Are they ruining marriage? Relying too much on their parents for money? This special lightning round episode with Jack and Washington Examiner culture writer Madeline Fry attempts to answer all of those questions…in five-minute increments.

Bridget’s youngest sister Vanessa reveals what your wedding photos predict about your marriage, the joys and challenges of working with children, and why hedgehogs make terrible pets. She and Bridget discuss the trials and tribulations of dating millennial men, her 3 basic requirements a guy should have and why it’s harder to find than it should be, and her theory that feminism is making men lazier. Don’t miss their insightful conversation about unlearning unhealthy behaviors that were modeled for them in childhood, taking responsibility for your own life as an adult, no matter what kind of circumstances you come from, and the danger of waiting to be rescued. Vanessa shares her belief that therapy is like getting an education about yourself, the process of breaking the habit of losing yourself in a relationship, and the importance of practicing gratitude every day.

Mayonnaise. Home Depot. Breakfast. Lunch. Vacations. Golf. Like some assiduous predator stalking in the cultural night, the Millennial generation has killed each of these things, one by one…or has it? The latest episode takes up the trend of Millennials’ killing things, such as the aforementioned items, and tries to determine whether their guilt is fair or misplaced. Each guest also picks a thing they hope Millennials do kill.

Also, the Young Americans proudly sell out once again, as this episode is brought to you by Simple Contacts.

Member Post


So when visiting the Holocaust Memorial in Berlin, Germany should one behave with dignity? Apparently not for numerious millennial generation visitors. Why not frolic about shooting smiling selfie pics, jump around like it’s an obstacle course, juggle balls, strike yoga poses in a sports bra, lay around or stand on the concrete slabs while snapping […]

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The Moral Immaturity of the Millennial Generation


This morning in the PIT, I described my commute home last night from work. For those of you that haven’t heard, I recently moved to Portland, OR, where I work at one of the large hospitals downtown. Because of traffic and scarce parking, I take both the bus and the train into work. Last night, I left work about 15 minutes late. This may not seem significant, but when you’re beholden to a train schedule, leaving even 30 second late can put a major crimp in your commute. I was late leaving work because of the flurry of activity that happened with my patients at the end of my shift. One of my patients had come in with recent neurological changes, and after the work up had been done, at the end of my shift this patient was given a new diagnosis of cancer with a very poor prognosis. The family was sweet and understanding and appreciative; all of the things that make nurses remember why they became a nurse in the first place. I sat at the computer outside my patient’s room to chart, hearing the family cry together. I offered my presence and comfort, but it was clear that they wanted to be alone. At the nurses station, we all spoke in hushed tones about how sad it was, and how the worst diagnoses always seem to happen to the nicest people.

As you can imagine would be the case in Portland, my day had consisted of staff lamenting the election results. There was a litany of “I’m so depressed,” “I cried the whole time I was getting ready this morning,” and “I just can’t believe people would vote for him.” That morning, I over heard a woman tell her friend that Max (the light rail in Portland) had to close temporarily around one o’clock that morning because of protests; however, my commute to work was uneventful. I was anticipating an equally uneventful ride home, but that was not the case. When I got off the bus at Pioneer Square to catch Max, police were out securing crowd control barriers, and I could see an occasional “Trump is NOT my president” sign waving in the air. While running to catch the train that was pulling in, I saw a young hipster woman completely topless with anti-Trump sentiments written across her body. I reached the platform in time, but was informed by the police that the train would not be stopping at Pioneer Square because of the protests; I had to walk up five blocks to the next stop. Now, five blocks might not seem like much, but after a 13 hour day on your feet trying to slay the dragons of disease, it’s a lot. As I walked grumpily past all the 20-somthing homeless and protesters, I became increasingly incensed by the childishness of it all. I wanted to run back to find that young woman exposing herself and yell at her, “Showing everyone your tits won’t make a damn bit of difference or make anyone take you remotely seriously!! Put a damn shirt on and go get a job!” Meanwhile, my sweet patient was probably still crying in her hospital bed, coming to grips with her own impending death.