thinking since '98

i can cross rivers and climb mountains with energy to spare
i can explore oceans and lift boulders like they're barely even there
but give me a social excursion or a two hour dinner
and suddenly i understand how bears can sleep through winter
my cheeks hurt from smiling that superficial smile
in an attempt to make others think their gossip is worthwhile
but that doesn't compare to my thoroughly exhausted brain
who would rather drown in its own fluids than say "oh no, he didn't" again
days and days of peace and quiet
and now i'm thrust in the middle of the riot
so i run as soon as i can to the solitude of my room
hoping the serenity will once again resume
i close my eyes and am surrounded with silence

but the noise in my head doesn't stop.

by mia at chaotic tales

i've always had a fascination with all the other people born in 1998. we've been alive for the same amount of time - give or take a few months - but lead entirely different lives. i'll admit, i can be a bit petty when i see people my age who are successful and doing amazing things like amandla stenberg, jaden smith or ariel winter while i'm sitting here with my proudest achievement being i watched the entirety of friday night lights in like a week. and don't even get me started on people who are younger than me that are already taking on the world. but, i digress.

i think from the moment i conceived the idea of having my little baby that is thinking since '98, i wanted it to be a collaborative space - a beacon for everyone born in the latter year of the earth tiger and an opportunity for us all to share our art and our words. so now i'm calling on you, 98ers, to show every other year who's boss.

it's simple: send me your stories, your poems, your thoughts, your drawings, your grocery lists, your anything to thinkingsince98@gmail.com with your name, country, date of birth and any blog/social media you want me to include and i will share them with the world fortnightly (i'm not going to lockdown a specific day yet because if there's one thing i know about myself, it's that i suck at consistency). and there's only a few rules:
1. you must be born in 1998. i hope that one was obvious. is that considered ageism? sorry.
2. nothing offensive or discriminatory please. profanity is fine as long as it's justifiable. i get it. people swear. shit happens.
3. word limit is approximately 500 words but i understand if your creative juices are flowing and the brakes become a bit slippery so if it's longer, still send it through and i'll see what i can do.
4. where possible include at least one of your own pictures so your post will have a cover photo otherwise i will have to make one and i'm lazy so not including one will just prolong your submission's opportunity to see the light of day.
5. it can be something you've posted somewhere else before: if you don't mind, i don't mind.
6. a post about the '98 thinkers' project or even a mention or link on any of your blogs/social media would be great to get the word out there as it would not only help me, but it will also help you in letting your voice be heard across the void.

i hope this works and i hope to hear from you soon. let the minds of the children of '98 shine.

p.s. if you have room on your blog to chuck on  little '98 thinkers' button below i would be eternally grateful!!

the candle swayed, dancing with the sound waves produced by the other conversations the other couples were having on the other tables. valentine's day - the restaurants busiest night. as well as his.

date #3 was in the bathroom after she excused herself with a sly grin to powder her nose or whatever it was that girls did in there. he was glad for the break though; his muscles still ached from his afternoon with date #2, not to mention the tumble in the morning with date #1. but that was all just child's play. now it was crunch time. happy hour had just begun and with two more dates to go tonight, he was open for business. speaking of:

his phone buzzed. as a precautionary measure, he always placed his phone screen down while on dates, just in case the generic caller id in the form of mum, boss, doctor or bank didn't come through. the timing was pleasing - with his current date away from the table he was free to answer the call. he picked up his phone and glanced at the name before clicking answer. nephew. it was date #4.

"hey,"  he said, lowering his voice to the sultry register that made dogs stand to attention and girls melt.

"hey yourself," she replied. "really looking forward to tonight."

"mmmm, me too."

"i can barely wait and since yoga class finished early i was wondering, what are you doing now?"

for a moment he was mildly distracted by the thought of yoga and the different positions he wanted to try, but he quickly snapped back to attention. he decided to use the easiest lie in his arsenal. ladies loved a hardworking man, especially ones with a stable career, and would definitely understand if he was 'stuck in the office and the only thing getting me through is knowing that i'm going to see you soon, gorgeous'. he opened his mouth to work his magic and said, "i'm on a date."

"excuse me?" she laughed nervously, assuming he was joking around and, though he wanted to punch himself in the face for nearly ruining a perfectly planned night, he snatched at that opportunity to save himself.

"haha, haven't you heard of a joke? i'm-" he stopped when he noticed date #3 emerge from the bathroom. as she weaved between tables, eyes locked on him like an avid bird watcher to a kakapo, he tried to come up with his next cover. i'm at the office, he would say, and the boss is coming by so i gotta go. i'll pick you up at eight. yes, that would work. he mentally prepared his lines but his mouth had different plans.

"yeah, i'm on a date," he said. "with another girl and she's coming back now so i have to go. i'll pick you up at eight." he hung up the phone to date #4's spluttered cries.

though he was very much shook up from the absolute freak accident that just occurred, he slipped on his most charming smile for date #3. even olympians have off days, he reminded himself and focused on his current trophy.

"sorry, you wouldn't believe the queue," she laughed as she slid back into her chair. "so, where were we?"

as she leaned in closer to him across the table, a strand of perfectly curled blonde hair spilled out from behind her ear. he reached over to wrap it slowly around his finger, her eyes watching him like he was a hypnotist and she was completely under his spell.

"well," he crooned, "i'm picking up another girl in about thirty minutes so i was just going to take you back to my car for a quickie and then dump you by a bus stop or something to find your way home, alright?"

she shot back into her seat and her jaw hung fascinatingly close to her exposed cleavage. "also," he continued, words falling out like a fatal avalanche, "if you can pay for dinner that would be fantastic. i mean, you did eat half the menu."

he smiled at her seductively. she was not returning the expression which was unusual for him. instead, she picked up the glass full of the most expensive wine the restaurant had to offer (he momentarily recalled the internal cringe he experienced when she ordered it) and threw it straight into his face.

"ASSHOLE!" she yelled and stormed off to the shocked faces of the other diners.

his testosterone-controlled brain scrambled to comprehend what had just happened as the wine rolled down his defined cheekbones and slipped past his lips. the opulent taste pooled under his tongue and he fought to not spit it out - he'd always been a beer guy himself. he didn't need to glance down at his favourite white shirt to know that it was stained blood-red, giving him the appearance of a man who had just left a massacre. he was very confused.

the waitress came forward with a towel to clean up the mess. he recognised her. she was young, probably a student working off debts. he frequented this restaurant often with dates and she was usually here. however, this time, rather than scoffing at his lies from behind the host stand, she only looked at him with immense pity. he glared back at her until a thought softened his gaze. but it was only a myth. an old wive's tale. it couldn't be.

oh no.

he was going to die next week.

(writing prompt: in the week before their death, people cannot tell a lie or omit information)
(born in 1998 and have a voice to share with the world? click here to find out how you can be heard!)

okay so i was searching through my computer for a file i needed to work on when, oh no what a shame, i was completely distracted by other old documents i found including this masterpiece from back in year 10 literature. we were studying oedipus and were supposed to write a creative piece based on the play with complete free rein on how we went about doing it. nevertheless, i have no clue what was going on in fifteen year old dinushka's brain that made me write this. i honestly can't believe i handed this in, it's amazing. enjoy:

The night swallowed everything up in darkness to the point that you couldn’t see your hand if it was five centimetres in front of your eyes. But, MAN HAD FIRE! So the guards’ expressionless faces were lit by the flickering shadows of the burning embers.

Nothing moved in the seemingly never-ending pitch black. These guards had pulled the short straw. When you’re young and you say you ‘want to be a guard of Thebes when you grow up’, it’s not because you want leg cramps and to hear your own breathing for five hours straight. You want to catch thieves and stop murders. But who could be bothered with crime during the graveyard shift?

Finally, one of their stoic facades broke:

“Hey. Pssssst. Heeeeeeey.” One of the guards whisper-shouted to his partner.

The other guard seemed like he was embracing the belief that if you ignore something long enough, it will go away.

“Hey. HeY. HEY.”

It wasn’t working.

“Oi. I’m talking to you. Gimme attention.”

No response.

“Talk to me, I’m so bored. Oh my Apollo, are you mute?”

Eventually the other guard glared at him, irritably. “What?”

“HE SPEAKS!” After throwing his hands in the air dramatically, the first guard leant on his spear casually. “My name’s Andreas but my friends call me Dre.”

“Okay, Andreas. Shut up.”

“Sheesh, someone’s got an olive branch up their butt.” Andreas examined his nails, unfazed. “What are you even worried about? No one is going to bother doing anything here. This place is a wreck! What with the plague and the famine. I mean, if you’re going to rob somewhere at least make it worth the effort.”

“Please stop talking.”

“Also, did you hear about what’s going on inside the walls?” Andreas continued, ignoring him completely. “Talk about a freak in the bedroom, our majestic king is pretty kinky. Sleeping with his mum.” He shuddered. “How’d he even end up on the throne? He gets rid of one sphinx and his got everyone wrapped around his finger. Well, jokes on them I guess.”

Andreas chuckled before his face grew wistful. “You know what this reminds me of?”

“Nope.”

“Lions. Like in a pride. You wanna know why?”

“I really don’t care.”

“So there’s only one dude in the pride, right? The lion king. That means that when another guy lion is born, to become king he essentially has to kill his dad. And you know there’s one lioness that’s like the top dog – the king’s favourite honey. She’s got all the other lionesses gossiping about her during the daily zebra hunt because the king won’t make her get her own food. Basically, she’s the queen. So when the new dude lion kills the king, he then by default ends up ‘marrying’ the queen lioness or whatever it is lions do. Sniff each other’s butts? Nah, wait, I think that’s dogs.” Andreas’ face had become more enigmatic and the flickering fire revealed glimpses of his animated eyes glinting. “Now, if you just substitute our favourite messed-up royal family for the lions you’ve got one mighty fine metaphor. There’s Laius, the king of nothing now ‘cause he’s, you know, dead. Then dear, sweet Jocasta who busted the myth that mothers can recognise their sons anywhere unless that myth is actually true which would be wrong on so many other levels. And finally Thebes’ golden boy Oedipus. I’m not even going to go there.”

“So what do you think?” Andreas looked at the other guard with his chin resting precariously on the tip of his spear. “Am I right, or am I right?”

“Whatever you say.”

“C’mon broseidon. I worked hard on this theory – critique me, my body is ready.”

“It was great.”

“Suuuuure.” Andreas dumped his spear and walked up to his controlled partner. “I know you have thoughts.” He poked his cheek. “There’s a little opinion in there waiting to get out. Hit me with your best one, big man.”

“No thank you.”

“You’re not going to get out of this, you little Dionysus.” Andreas grabbed the other guard’s face between his hands as he smiled up at him. And, boy, did he have to smile up because the other guy was at least a head or even two taller than him. If Andreas was a stick, his colleague was a hundred-year old olive tree made up of lots and lots of sticks. He was big.

“Please tell me. Pretty please. Pretty please with a dry fig on top.”

“No.”

“I will actually pay you to give me your opinion. I don’t have a lot but I know this great robe tailor down in-”

“Oh, Apollo, fine.” The guard sighed, exasperated. “I think what happened to Oedipus’ was a great tragedy. His inability to acknowledge who he was and therefore his lack of self-knowledge was a fatal flaw to his overall character. Also, the fact that his pride and ignorance metaphorically blinded him to the truth that once revealed actually blinded him is unbelievably ironic. Tiresias may have been the actual blind one but he was also the only one that could see what was really going on, despite Oedipus’ stubbornness and refusal. What happened to Oedipus raises the question for all of us on whether we are all searching to ‘kill our fathers and marry our mothers’ in some way or form, though it doesn’t have to be as explicit as Oedipus’ example itself. Essentially though, it shows that trying to outrun or avoid fate will prove futile because everything will always play out as it was said it will.”

Andreas studied the other guard carefully before he shook his head and said, “Nah, man. I’m telling you – it’s just like lions.”

“I-”

“Whatever, I gotta go pee.” Andreas abandoned his post, leaving his perplexed and insecure associate alone to think in front of the towering walls of Thebes.

(born in 1998 and have a voice to share with the world? click here to find out how you can be heard!)

i know i'm late to the party but, hey, the party don't start until the cripplingly awkward socialite walks in, amiright? anyways, better late than never because i had absolutely no idea what i was missing before i had discovered the glistening treasure trove that is webcomics.

i love comics and graphic novels just as much as the next 5 minute geek. i've gone from short newspaper reads like garfield and calvin and hobbes to more longer series like scott pilgrim and amulet. i enjoy comic spin-offs of my favourite tv shows like avatar: the last airbender, adventure time and bravest warriors. and i've made my feelings about the archie comics very clear here. overall, i appreciate being able to read books with pictures that aren't just meant for children.

but i also tend to buy a lot of comics before i actually read them which means each purchase goes through a rigorous background check to make sure they're money well spent. also, i recently [had the best day of my life when i] quit my part-time job to concentrate on school and i'm absolutely outraged to find out that the depths of my savings apparently does have an end. i know, i know, libraries have buttloads of comics and books and they're all free!! but, you see, libraries require moving myself to a different location and i am lazy. why should i walk like 15 minutes to my local library when i can just reach out from the cave of blankets that i currently reside in, to grab my laptop and order books online that will come to the place where i already am? i am very grateful to be born during the era that i have been and i feel the best way to demonstrate that gratitude is by utilising the modern technology of my time to barely do shit all. and it's from that philosophy that my discovery stemmed.

flash forward to a couple of weeks ago when i was cheerily scrolling through my instagram feed, silent tears rolling down my face as i poured over fit bodies and healthy lifestyles that i would never get my indolent body to possess, when i saw one of the bookstagram accounts i follow mention a webcomic they were reading called omg check please. i stored the name in the back of my brain for future reference and - to my surprise - i remembered it a few days ago when it was around 1:30am and i was too tired to sleep (interesting how this memory doesn't come into play when i'm trying to recall something from school hmmm).

i had never read a webcomic before and i was wholeheartedly expecting some black and white pencil sketches accompanied by cheesy captions filled with grammatical errors on a tumblr blog with a tacky theme and the title, 'welcome to my twisted mind'. what i was not expecting was what i got, and that was a really really well done comic.

at first i didn't think i was going to be very interested in omg check please because a) it was about hockey and b) i didn't know anything about hockey except that it is a c) sport and d) i don't like sports. though, as friday night lights is currently teaching me, i know i shouldn't jump to conclusions (more on that later) (probably).

and i'm glad i did give ocp a go because i'm actually enjoying it. the art is very appealing and the dialogue is really funny - like laugh out loud funny. i was also very pleased that it had an lgbtq protagonist as well as culturally diverse characters. plus, the little hockey tidbits throughout the comic came in handy for noobs like me who at first couldn't even fully appreciate the pun in the name because i didn't even know what checking was.

it wasn't hard to quickly become up-to-date on ocp but while i waited for the next update, i was hungry to satiate my webcomic-fix. so i decided to hit up my bff google and let's just say my cravings won't be reappearing anytime soon. in the past week i devoured luke pearson's short stories and annihilated what was available online in nimona. i'm currently reading octopus pie and i'm loving every second i spend with my sardonic and organic girl. admittedly i did have to scour through a bit of smut here and there to find a comic worth sticking to, but who doesn't love some lame reads that make you scoff and groan in between the actually good work? if anything, the comparison made me appreciate the webcomics i read even more.

so i guess the moral of this post is that money is not proportionate to quality and once again, the internet has me worshipping the metaphysical ground it walks upon as i am not surprised to be surprised at the riches it contains.

(born in 1998 and have a voice to share with the world? click here to find out how you can be heard!)