Teenagers these days are different to the teenagers of the past. They listen to different music, use technology and dress differently. They also act differently. I took to the streets to interview them.
"These days we do things differently than in the past. I feel almost like I didn't do the exact same things as my parents did." says Adam. He is studying a creative subject in a town in the Midlands to give you the impression that he is somewhat of a nieve idealist. We look at out a street I would describe with bland adjectives and perhaps mention the juxtaposition between an advertisement and what is happening nearby.
"Why is it do you think we have subcultures? And why is it they change so much?"
"I'm not entirely sure so I will give a slightly nihilistic yet self-aware response as I lack the confidence to truly say what I think due to the question being mostly unimportant." he says, checking the end of an object one associates with being symbolic of that sub-culture. A group of teenage men and women are walking down the street across from us, although these are dressed differently to Adam.
"Is that a different sub-culture, perhaps one that somehow rivals yours?"
"Correct. The shared beliefs in which each subculture values can differ in importance. Although this brings up the question of if people belong to subcultures based on their beliefs or does the subculture shape the beliefs of the person to which it belongs. I propose it is less of a chicken and egg scenario and more akin to the Portuguese man o' war, a single being made up of several different creatures or in this case, concepts." says Adam, gesticulating in the fog rolling in around us. I thank him and cross the road into a café in which the other teenagers have just entered.
I sit down nearby and after eavesdropping for ten minutes or so can't help but mention that I am a journalist on a website and if it would be possible to interview them.
"What do you want to interview about?" says one baby-faced youth.
"What is it like being a teenager in 2014? I mean, I know I look young but I'm not a teenager." I say, laughing to myself.
"We are undergoing a severe biological transformation and this causes a certain amount of ennui." says a tall girl.
"Yeah, it's like in our culture being a teenager is a thing you do between being a child and being an adult. But the way in which it happens is totally unhealthy." says the baby-faced youth, drinking a can of pop that didn't exist five years ago and is mocked slightly by people it isn't marketed to. The other people sitting at the table nod their heads.
"So you think there's an alternative?" I ask, pulling a microphone out of my trouser pocket and letting its foamy tip rest on the table.
"I think it'd be more fluid if teenagers left their homes once they show the first signs of puberty. They would gather in special camps out in the wilderness where they would learn about themselves and the world around them. The community is encouraged to experiment and build on interpersonal skills whilst undergoing an education and learning the basics of self-sufficency. I believe that this would lead to general feelings of well-being and happiness that would have a trickle down effect through the generations until we achieve a kind of...utopia."
"Well I'll get right on that." I say, laughing. "Next you'll be saying we should cut funding for the police and armed forces and put it into education and welfare."
"Well now you mention it..." says a pimple-faced miscreant. Like Jesus cleansing the temple of merchants, I flipped the table over and started throwing plates around.
Six hours later I am stood on a cliff next to a woman about to jump. I look down at the rocks and the surf below, listening to the wind carrying the call of gulls which fly around.
"Don't try and stop me." she says, breathing heavily, face wet with tears.
"I'm not." I say, kneeling down on the grass and flipping my legs over the edge.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm climbing." I say, letting my body slip as I clutch onto handfuls of grass. One of my boots catches a rock and I begin to rest my weight onto it. Gradually I begin to clamber down, sometimes a foothold gives way beneath and I slip a few feet.
"Stop it! It's dangerous!" she shouts down at me.
"If you jump I will catch you." I shout back up. I climb down for a while longer, rubbing the sweat from my eyes with the sleeve of my tweed jacket. I glance back up and she is still there, watching me. There comes a point in which there are no more places to put my feet or my hands. I can't go back up as most of my previous holds have crumbled away and fallen into the sea beneath me. I am stuck.
"Excuse me. Can you call mountain rescue?" I shout up. But she has disappeared. One of my hands begin to cramp as I hold myself against the cliff face. "Shit."
