Luxury is a full cart of groceries

You’re a millennial for fuck sakes. You can’t be bothered to rest because of the human rhinovirus. You’ve come too far to be laid out because of some sniffles?!

GET UP.

GO TO WORK.

DON’T LET EM’ CATCH YA BLOWING YOUR NOSE.

But you know that sweet little moment when you finalllllly let yourself be sick enough to lay down during your fourth cold/flu/covid of the season, surrounded by a puddle the nasal mucus, that little burning sensation in your throat, and some self-pity?

That, my dear millennial, is the absolute best time to have a politically charged argument with someone born between 1946 and 1964.

It always starts innocently enough, doesn’t it?

“How’s it going?” It’s going.

“How are the kids?” They’re amazing.

“Don’t you think Trump MPGA (Making Pipelines Great Again) is going to save the future?” Oh no. Deep breath.

They’ll drop that last one so casually, like they’re mentioning how gas is going down again (because they never miss a chance to bring that up), and you’re too hopped up on cold meds to dodge the incoming disaster.

Suddenly, there you are, faced with a choice:

1. The “We Don’t Talk Politics” Approach
   Smile, nod, and say something like, “Oh, wouldn’t that be nice?” before swerving to safer territory: “So how’s your cholesterol doing?” A solid choice if you’re working 10-12 hour days and simply don’t have the bandwidth for this bullshit today.

2. The Full Millennial Rage Option
   Let loose every ounce of fury you’ve been saving for landlords, student loan servicers, and avocado toast memes. You may lose your voice and need to pause for a cough drop after, but you’ll walk away feeling like a warrior.

Oh, and guess which one I picked?

I chose rage. And let me tell you—it felt pretty damn good.

Even as I wheezed and coughed my way through the argument, sounding like a stuffed up Mr. Bean, fighting with the power of extra strength Advil Cold & Flu by my side, I gave it my all.

Now at this particular moment in time, I was honestly too tired to even care about the recent election results. I know, I know. I’m not proud of it.

HOW COULD I NOT CARE ABOUT THE POLITICAL STATE OF AMERICA AT A TIME LIKE THIS? DON’T I LOVE FREEDOM? DON’T I CARE ABOUT WOMEN?!

(Come at me. I still have rage to spare.)

So there I was, sneezing between sentences, making my points with the kind of fire that only a cold-medicine-stoned millennial can muster.

I explained, in vivid detail, how I’m spending my days scraping by, juggling remote gigs, deciding between one pound of real (non lab-grown) meat or ten cans of chickpeas (please, no more chickpeas), and Googling “cheap dinners that don’t taste like the great depression”.

And yet, they had the audacity to scream at me about focusing on the big picture. Not these “little details” like, oh, I don’t know—whether women have control over their own bodies or how we address decades of systemic oppression. Because apparently, if we don’t start “focusing on the future right now, there won’t be one.”

Guess what, old guy? For me (and maybe you) the future ain’t looking as bright as you said it was.

And you want to know how I ended that call, dear millennial?

On the concept of luxury.

The luxury to come home from work with enough energy to care about what happens in January 2025.

The luxury to not obsess over how you’ll stretch a gallon of milk for a week.

The luxury to plan for a future that feels remotely possible when today is already unbearable.

Hell, even the luxury of throwing an avocado in your cart.

And those are simply a few luxuries, among others, that we don’t really have right now.

So while they might try to start a political argument out of boredom from the luxurious life, soaking up pensions from that single job they held for 25+ years, or feeling grateful for how they bought a home for less than today’s down payment, we’re left with three jobs, student loans that cost more than a mortgage, and groceries priced like front row Taylor Swift tickets.

(Yes, even high on cold meds, I managed to bring up student loans because nothing says ‘holiday cheer’ like crippling debt.)

And they wonder why we can’t focus on the “big picture.”

It’s not that we don’t care about the future—it’s that caring feels like a luxury we can’t afford when we’re drowning in the present.

Millennials aren’t apathetic; we’re just too busy carrying the weight of broken systems to pick up the pieces for the next generation. But we still try—because that’s what we do.

This is the reality of being a millennial: constantly fighting just to survive in systems that weren’t designed for us. We’re not apathetic; we’re exhausted.

And when you’re exhausted, caring about the future sort of feels like a luxury.

When you’re too tired to remember that, I’ll try and remember it for both of us because even when the deck is stacked against us, we’re not alone in figuring it out.

So, next time someone smugly asks why you aren’t focusing on the “right” things to “fix the future,” remind them that you’re too busy patching the leaks in the present and trying to ride the wave of motivation of that comes with crippling anxiety and the fear of not knowing how you’re gonna make it.

You’re doing a pretty good job riding that wave (if I do say so myself) and managing to balance both while still waking up with a little hope.

And there’s still hope, my dear millennial. That’s the one thing they can’t put interest rates on.

If you’re like a lot of millennials out here who are also:

a. overwhelmingly exhausted

b. way past burn out (actually scaled it and kept going)

c. are currently waiting for bed so you can revive your broken down spirit even a little

d. and/or a bonus fourth — simply too busy trying to survive in this economy to really dig into what those election results mean for you and the world

Allow me to formally welcome you to the exclusive clubs for Millennials (or, late stage capitalism).

Come on in – we can hang out over here quietly looking discouraged together.

And if you’re ever handed the choice to “not talk politics” or let your millennial rage out for a joyride, I highly recommend option two. (Even if you’re hopped up on cold meds—it somehow makes the whole thing better.)

Anywayyyyyy—so, did you see that gas is going down again since the election?

xo, millennial