Generation Why

Today is my birthday. I am 24. 24 years ago the World started. This is a plainly selfish view, and not true of course, as the whole of creation wasn’t brought into being because of my birth, but for me it was. I only know of 24 years of life, and everything else has been told to me. It might not have happened. Sure, World War II took place between 1939 and 1945, but I have only other peoples memories and good Wikipedia citations to go on.

That’s not the point of this post, nor is it to remind those people who have forgotten this hallowed day in the calendar, one I share with, as a guess, 18million people, or to compare it something more computational, 4.5 times the population of the country I live in. Or, 166,052 people in the UK. If we assume that the whole of Britain is 80k square miles, I share it with another person within a square mile of myself. It’s not that big a coincidence then, is it?

I don’t know what it means to be 24. 24 seemed so old, even only 5 years ago. I mean, at 19, I couldn’t imagine what 24 would be like. I had no idea what 24 would be like when I hit 21, barely 3 years ago. Being born in 1985 means I am part of Generation Y, or the Echo Boomers, or the MTV Generation. I’d call myself the Last Pre-Internet generation. My sister, 4 years younger than me, cannot remember School without it. True, it was when I was in 3rd year at School they hit us with computers that ran Windows and had fast internet, but before then I can remember how to do research before a computer. It involved this thing that has paper and words and is real called… an Encyclopedia.

So I suppose the place to look for comfort at this age is not at the stuff I haven’t done, but what I have done. I’ve got a well paid job. I’ve got a car. I’ve been able to travel a fair bit this year, and still have travels to go on. I have a good group of friends, all of which I’d happily shoot the shit with any time of the day, and probably most importantly of all, I’ve not met anyone that has the same birthday as me.

Yet.

The future then. 5 years? 29? Before the big 30? I can’t begin to imagine. If I am still working in Aberdeen it will be down to two factors: have I found someone to stay for (or not been able to convince them to leave) and secondly, maybe am I coming back from somewhere else. I have some plans for the next few years, Houston being one, London being another, Paris being the third. The future will come.