I Found the Real World

The real world only exists at one in the morning. And it only happens in the McDonalds parking lot. If not, then you miss the vans pulling in and out of vacant parking spots.

It’s because at this point we can’t even see the flashy yellow ‘M’ concealed by the roof of my cousin’s car. All we have is the fog on the windows, with which I took the liberty in inscribing the symbol of Satan beside the phrase love yourself. I blow fog on the star, remembering that the last time I drew it on a chilled window, my school’s Registrar walked in, looking both confused and disinterested. But the real world isn’t there. I think I’m trying to mark one world too many.

It’s here because we arrived an hour too late. They’ve stopped carrying Big Macs at midnight, and we weren’t about to wait until 10. Otherwise, the three of us wouldn’t have been frustrated with the junk that we did leave the window with. Instead we settled for three number twos, its own meal but to us a parody of what we made the drive for.  At the end of the order, my cousin tacked on an order of nuggets, and this is how you know it’s the real world. Otherwise, would we have needed the twenty McNuggets?

It’s here because the three of us are having one of those awkward conversations the ancient philosophers call guy talk. I try to push the conversation away from my insecurities, asking vague questions like what they would do with two wishes. Nobody considers giving the wishes away, but we can’t think of things we would change about our lives without changing ourselves.

The real world isn’t me blogging at 11, my parent’s cat fighting arduously for room on my lap. It isn’t here because I have too many tabs open to see it. The semester’s grades are a distraction—little A’s without comment that will never know when I threw the towel in. But how could they? They’re the same sprite that Microsoft used as a spaceship for their Asteroids game. Nothing more.

In the real world we shouldn’t have an agenda for wishes, because they stop serving them at midnight.

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McJob

I saw this Youtube video about whether or not the title ‘McJob’ is ethical and should be ‘banned’ or deemed derogatory. Something I particularly dislike about the modernist agenda is that our culture is trying to ban hurtful aspects of our communication. Coupland coined the phrase ‘McJob’ in his 1991 debut novel Generation X: Tales for an Accelerated Culture. The idea wasn’t to attack people who work these minimum wage jobs, but to develop a common phrase for work without passion. Most of the workforce consists of this, and I would argue that it’s different for every individual. I work a McJob at the grocery store because it’s not a passion for me. I think what worries a lot of people is that they might become defined by the term, and the negative connotations it could have. I encourage everyone to come up with their own views on this subject. What this group wants to specifically do is to change the definition the dictionary provides. Here’s the debate video:

In other news… the ‘like’ feature that was birthed on Facebook has bled into other popular sites such as Youtube. It’s hurting the indexing algorithm of the internet.

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