The Adolescent Bucket List, and My Failure to Check the Boxes

The Adolescent Bucket List, and My Failure to Check the Boxes

The final girl. A classic slasher/horror trope, the final girl is the one that escapes the jaws of death, defeats the killer or evil, and emerges victorious from the bloodbath. How does she do this? Easy. She doesn't engage in any of the behaviors that her teen counterparts do. No smoking, drinking, drugs, and certainly no sex. Think Jamie Lee Curtis' character in Halloween. The other teenagers all get axed (usually after having sex) but Laurie, the pure, virtuous babysitter, is allowed to survive (for now...). It's a misogynistic and unrealistic way of looking at the world, to equate partaking in anything mildly scandalous with deserving death.

I'm the final girl. Or it feels like it sometimes. Except this time, making it out alive without even a scratch or having engaged in anything rebellious doesn't feel like a victory. It just feels wrong.

It started in seventh grade when my friends and I began to attend these public dances at a local middle school. We'd go for the fun of dressing up, to dance, hoping to meet someone. At the age of 13, I knew that these dances were the home of what could possibly be the most shocking act I was aware of: hooking up. Remember, this is hooking up in the seventh grade sense; just making out, I guess. I never got the chance.

My mind at these dances was populated by contradicting thoughts. Is this something I want to take part in or not? One part of me craved the experience, a first foray in the world of adolescent sexuality. Another part worried about the logistics. How was I supposed to get myself into a situation where hooking up happened? Did I have to talk to my partner? Would I screw up while kissing them and make a fool of myself? What would people say about me? In the days before I was diagnosed with anxiety, these questions tormented me and banished me from the world of preteen make out sessions. I heard my friends tell their hookup stories and wished that I could have the courage and the experience that they did. I stopped going to the dances, because spending a night fighting my anxiety was too painful.

And then people started drinking. It was like hooking up all over again, but with added risk. This time, if your parents found out you would really get into trouble. I avoided scenes that I knew would involve drinking, because I was scared to try it, and scared to be judged for not trying it. I'm not saying that drinking makes you brave or noble or anything, but I felt ashamed at my Puritanical ways. It's not like I think drinking and sex are sins or, like, the lure of the devil or something. My aversion to them is merely personal, a self-reflective insecurity that shuts me out of taking risks. A combination of being afraid of the act itself and how people will perceive my fear of the aforementioned act holds me back. I'd rather be safe than sorry; rather stay home alone than reveal my diffidence.

Because I've barely experienced anything in my seventeen years of life, I feel like I've failed teenagehood. What teenager has never been to a party, never snuck out of the house, or never been hungover? Have I failed some duty I owe to myself by living by the rules? I can't say that these years have been boring-- I've found plenty of entertaining and exciting things to do with my free time. They just don't involve the things I feel they're supposed to-- crushes, first kisses, breaking minor laws. Isn't they're some adolescent bucket list that I'm supposed to have checked off by now?

I don't mean to advocate either way for these things. Health class 101 taught me that you don't need to drink, smoke, or hook up to be cool. And in no way do I aim to shame those who do do this stuff. I mean, they're the majority. And it's completely alright. I merely mean to say that sometimes I feel like I'm doing my teenage years wrong. My life will never reflect the teen movies I was raised on. 

The final girl. Sometimes I wish I had some scars. Some mistakes I made, the trouble I got in. Final girl feels to naïve, too safe. 

Talking to a friend about this, she reminded me that I'm young. There's time for all of this, and there's no right way to do life. There's no right way to be a teenager. I guess she's right, but I can't help but feel wrong, like I've failed by making it out of high school with no regrets, asides from regretting that I have no regrets.

I don't have an answer for other teenagers that feel like me. I don't know if I'll feel like I've spent these years well. But if I can impart something on you, it's that I hope you don't doubt yourself, whatever you're doing. I hope you're able to do what you want to do with your adolescence, without being afraid of what others think of you, and without fearing what you think of yourself.

Parental Guidance: Teen Movies and the Portrayal of Parents

Parental Guidance: Teen Movies and the Portrayal of Parents

Heathers, the iconic and underrated 1989 black comedy, has a lot going for it: Winona Ryder in her early days, crazy 80s fashion, biting wit, and harsh reality. Perhaps the harshest of said realities that the film serves up is the way the film portrays adults’ perspectives of teenagers.

Most teen films feature parents one way or another; after all, so much of being a teenager is about your relationship, or lack thereof, with your parents—fighting with them, bonding with them, being annoyed with them. The lesson of most teen movies is yeah, parents can be annoying, but they only mean the best. Think about it: Kat from 10 Things I Hate About You eventually convinces her father to let her leave the nest as they face their differences and accept each other for who they are; Andie’s dad from Pretty in Pink gets her her killer prom dress.

But Heathers takes a darker, if not caricatured, approach to the parent/child relationship. For example, two separate scenes in Heathers mimic each other almost exactly in dialogue, as Veronica’s parents discuss the same things each time. The movie seems to imply that they hold no regard in finding new things to talk about with their child, and instead settle for the mundane and repetitive instead of engaging in an interesting conversation with their daughter.

When Veronica complains to her parents that teenage suicide is being glamorized in the media, she tells her mother, “All we want is to be treated like human beings. Not experimented on like guinea pigs, or patronized like bunny rabbits.” Her mother scolds her harshly: "’Treated like human beings?’ Is that what you said, little Ms. Voice-of-a-Generation? How do you think adults act with other adults? Do you think it's all a game of doubles tennis? When teenagers complain that they want to be treated like human beings, it's usually because they are being treated like human beings.” “Well I guess I picked the wrong time to be a human being,” sighs Veronica. Her mother’s complete disregard for Veronica’s disgust at this romanticized version of suicide and her annoyance with Veronica’s request for respect encapsulates how Heathers views the adult world: full of contempt for youth and unable to properly respect and appreciate the ideas and opinions of teenagers. And unlike other team films, there’s no resolution—this is the last conversation we see Veronica and her parents having. No tear filled apologies and forgiveness here.

Heathers furthers this perspective with a cast of adults who lack respect for teenagers: the guidance counselor who uses an outbreak of suicides to make herself look good, the board of teachers whose only concern about student deaths is how many days of school to cancel, J.D.’s father who completely fails to take on the role of a father. Everywhere you look in this movie, parents fail to fulfill their duties as supportive and compassionate parents to their children.

And when you think about it, many films are filled with this view of parents. While Ferris Bueller’s parents may be adoring, his friend Cameron’s father seems to value his precious Ferrari more than he does his son. The school dean thrives off of Ferris’ failure and tries to bring about his downfall. And how about The Breakfast Club? Parents are off screen in this film, but forefront in each of their kids’ minds. Whether their child is torn between divorcing parents, desperately trying to fill their parents outlandish expectations for them, abused, or just flat out ignored, these kids do not have the loving and caring parents that we all hope for and cherish.

Maybe the adult world isn’t as cruel as these movies make it out to be. But sometimes a caricature of a real problem can make it stand out to viewers. Being a teenager is hard, and criticism and cynicism from adults doesn’t make it any easier. These films go very far in their negative portrayal of parents, but they surely point to an issue in our society. Every parent/child relationship is different, but I imagine many teenagers can relate in some way to the parental dynamics portrayed in these movies.

The Issue of Emotion

The Issue of Emotion

Sitting around a table with family this past summer, the topic of music came up. Surrounded by adults at least twice my age, if not more, I listened to the conversation. Eventually, my favorite question in the world was asked, as I had hoped it would be: “What music do you like?” A friend of my uncle’s, a middle-aged man, posed the question as a sort of a challenge. No doubt he was lying in wait to mock whatever the modern youth liked, ready to scoff at the “lack of sophistication of kids these days." Aware of the oncoming criticism, I answered honestly. Hearing my answer, he scoffed before asking with a snarky laugh, “You like that band? Their music is so depressing. So angsty. Are you a happy person?” I didn’t really know how to reply. I laughed sheepishly and let the conversation go on without me.

What got under my skin about this man’s comment was how quickly he wrote me off as “angsty” and unhappy. So often have teenagers been classified by adults as “angsty” or “moody” that we’ve been conditioned to feel ashamed about being upset. We’re embarrassed to talk about our stress, sadness, or frustration because our elders have drilled into us not to be “mopey” or “self-pitying."

Any emotion we experience is “just hormones” and simply a melodramatic exaggeration of a real feeling. Anything we worry about or get angry about is merely another example of a teenager being “dramatic” or “seeking attention."

In class a while ago, I was asked to complete the phrase “The world is...” I finished it with “unfair”. I was thinking about Syrian refugees sacrificing everything while people like Donald Trump sit on their billions making fools of themselves. I was thinking about how single parents who work so hard still must spend hours at multiple minimum wage jobs to support their families. When I told the class my answer, my teacher responded, “So angsty! It’s okay, you’re a teenager.” My frustration at the imbalanced world was boiled down to a moment of hormones, as if what was unfair was the amount of homework I had to do or that my parents wouldn’t let me go to a concert.

And even if a teenager's emotions are shallow or vapid, they still feel very real to them. It's completely unfair to tell a teenager to "just stop worrying" about what people think of them or to "just get over" a breakup, because even if those emotions seem invalid to someone older, those feelings are still very real to the person experiencing them. Just because the emotion is not as mature as it could be does not mean that it is not worth considering. Imagine if adults disregarded the feelings that they deemed unimportant of other adults. The world would be a very indifferent place. But when it comes to teenagers, it seems it is perfectly alright to not only write off a teenager's feeling, but actually degrade them for having it. We are shamed for having feelings that the adult world does not account worthy.

I’m tired of being labeled as a melodramatic teenager. I feel things as acutely as any adult does, and I believe my peers do too. Yet somehow my emotions are consistently shortchanged by those older and “wiser” than me who think any expression of sorrow, upset, or anger is merely a chemical reaction. To my fellow teenagers I say: keep on feeling. Write that “angsty” essay, play that “depressing” song. Embrace your feelings. They are valid and important. They are what make you human. And no one should make you feel bad about that.