What’s in a name?

So what the fuck is a memoir? What is a zoomer? Memoirs of a zoomer?

Let me be precise about this – I bought the website last night as an offering to myself. Everyone, my peers, my professors, my under-educated parents – they all told me that if I disconnect myself from academia that my wit will worsen. That I’ll become complacent with a sick linecook job making $11/hr; just enough to go to the bar, pay my rent and have no savings left over. My brain will ossify with nothing left but dopamine receptors.

This is a bipartite agreement here. The first part is to them. But only out of spite. I won’t lose my skills. I will continue to read and do all the other “big brain” things that keep me sharp. I promise I won’t play video games till two in the morning. I promise I won’t eat MSG rich Chinese food four days a week. I promise I won’t jerk off four times a day. The second part is to write, for the sake of getting better at it.

Anyway, back to the point. Memoirs. A historical account of something from a time period. Supposed to add to the retelling of an event. You know, letters during the Civil War or some shit. This is a memoir of living in the modern world, the age of the internet. A memoir of nothing particular besides living in a time with no convictions and a dying world. A flow of incessant information bubbling up. I wanna vomit.

That’s what a memoir is. And a zoomer? Well, it’s a riff off the memes about boomers, doomers, gloomers – if you’re reading this, then you know. In lieu of doxxing myself, I was born in the late 90s. Late enough to have no recognition of 9/11. Early enough for the good times in the late 2000s. Vivid reveries of the times my parents divorced, my Nintendo DS, Modern Warfare 2 and the financial crash that eradicated our savings.

I am a manifestation of Gen Z. So put those two phrases together and you have memoirs of a zoomer. I’m kicking myself in the head for such a stupid fucking name. Nevertheless, I’m gonna stick with it. The purpose of this website is catalog the machinations of my mind. At least this website has a purpose.

I am zoomer, and this is my memoir.

First post, best post

Oh boy, my very own blog! This is it, folks! I can finally engage myself in long diatribes against anything I wish. Well, the first thing to chastise is myself.

Yesterday was an important day in the life of a modern man. I graduated from college. It’s a right of passage, you know. It’s important. Grabbing that ceremonial degree was the best thing that ever happened to me. I can’t help but ruminate on the skit School Spirit 1 by Kanye on graduation.

In the track, the narrator goes on, sardonically, about his degree. Working in the GAP. Finally becoming the secretary’s secretary who got the job from her uncle. And the nasty fucking truth is that it is my future too. Liberal arts brought me damn near nothing. I learned the majority of the material on my own. By virtue of Wikipedia and YouTube University.

The girls at the bar this weekend told me I had a bright future. That I was a funny, intelligent guy. That I had a lot going for me. My family too. But what the fuck is it for? Anything short of philosophical suicide in the belief of God, there isn’t a meaning to any of this. It’s exhausting. As Sartre put it, we are condemned to freedom. I have nothing to do this fine Sunday. No work, nothing.

Everyone has left me, and I suppose that the only person I truly have is between my ears. Ringing thoughts just like my tinnitus. You know, I sort of wish Descartes was right. I wish I was a solipsism was right. It’s only me. But it isn’t.

Alright, said in the same fashion as when I’m trying to leave a conversation. This blog post was disjointed at best. It’s the first post though. The first day of the rest of my life. It’s the line of demarcation that expresses the transitory state in which I find myself. It’s raining. The birds are singing. It smells like worms and mulch. Anyway, welcome to the page. First post, best post, as they say.