Every time I watch a confirmation hearing or hear talk of a stimulus plan or find out about yet another inauguration to-do, I can’t help but think about how much work there actually is to do.

This, I’m told, is a very Gen Y impulse, the product of being young, sleep-deprived, and raised on Mr. Rogers, who told us we really could do whatever we liked. But I think it probably has more to do with getting older, and coming to grips with what exactly our future might hold. Sure, we’ve got the Wii, and HDTV, and Google, but those only go so far when you’re unemployed, drowning in debt and lamenting the plight of the polar bear.

It’s a topsy-turvy world out there, and while every generation has experienced some of that, the real grown-ups in my life say that feeling does seem more pervasive than ever, reaching into just about every aspect of life – from foreign policy to the domestic struggles of young vets, from student loans to the greatest economic instability since the Depression, from joblessness at home to the perils (human rights, environmental and otherwise) of globalization abroad. Or maybe we just hear about it more.

Regardless, I know this worldview might appear a tad extreme, so in the spirit of sharing, I thought I’d give you a little insight into what I saw and heard this week to put me in such a lovely frame of mind - a small snapshot of one Y perspective.

5 signs of the apocalypse, and why they made me think of you…

1. Gold might as well be fur. Last night, I told my boyfriend I’m off gold. I’m not that flash to begin with – and I’ve been off diamonds for a while for obvious reasons – but after reading National Geographic’s January cover story, “Gold: The True Cost of a Global Obsession,” I couldn’t believe I hadn’t already known to eschew gold. “For all of its allure, gold’s human and environmental toll has never been so steep,” author Brook Larmer writes. At this rate, I’m going to have to take up an ascetic lifestyle. I already had to stop eating shrimp. My sister’s even done with Coca-Cola. And if anyone ever marries me, it’ll probably be without a ring (and not because I’m easygoing). It’s easy to dismiss as a whole lot of fanatacism, but with the amount and visibility of information that’s out there, we’re going to learn some things we don’t like. Ignoring them won’t make them go away. On the contrary, we should be grateful we do know, and doing our best to act on that knowledge when we can.
2. Everyone owes $50k! According to a financial aid counselor at a well-known Washington, D.C., university who my siblings chatted up last week, $50,000 to $60,000 in educational debt from undergrad is just about expected these days for her institution and schools of its caliber. There’s so much to say about that, and yet, no need to say anything at all. Because, as the College Board says, educational debt is an investment in your future, and a bachelor’s degree is all but essential these days just to be competitive (someone with a B.A. will earn $800,000 more than someone with a high school diploma over a lifetime), so young people hardly have a choice. But that doesn’t make it any less shameful.
3. Kids use Facebook for (not annoying) good. Believe it or not, and whatever you might think of the situation in the Middle East, I found the following rather encouraging: The 14-year-old daughter of close family friends recently updated her Facebook status – which people use to say everything from “Joey is ‘eating spaghetti,’” to, “Sarah is ’so, so, so excited to be engaged!’” – to read, “R. is ‘702 Palestinians murdered by Israel in Gaza (more than 230 children & 100 women) & 3100 injured. Donate your status.’” Now this is a little girl I’ve known since she was a baby, and whose young adulthood I’m so in denial about that I assiduously avoid her Facebook page, lest I find anything I don’t want to know. And Facebook is running out of ways to surprise me. But unlike the 101 groups for this or that cause, or messages from people actively proselytizing, this just had an earnest, honest, youthful sincerity to it that grabbed me. And  how nice to find that on Facebook.
   
4. The government hates animals. New York’s Governor David A. Patterson has proposed “an immediate 55 percent cut and elimination of zoo and botanical garden funds altogether in 2010,” writes Andrew C. Revkin on the New York Times’ Dot Earth blog. All right, I get it — the state’s in trouble, and the $5 million it’ll save by slashing the zoo’s funding will no doubt go a long way in stabilizing things. Doom a hedgehog, feed an investment banker, and all that. But really, how sad. It isn’t enough that we’re destroying natural habitats all over the world, now we have to target the artificial ones we’ve created to shelter the few animals who might survive us. What difference does it make if my kids never get to see a red panda or Bengal tiger? (Never mind the American pika, a cute-as-a-button rabbit relative that’s on its way to becoming the second animal to join the endangered species list because of global warming, behind the polar bear. NatGeo can be such a downer.) Sheesh. The Wildlife Conservation Society’s pithy but pointed video response to the budget cuts is perfect. I hope someone listens.
5. And I love my Mom, but what about the elderly? And in what could have been my own personal apocalypse, on New Year’s Eve, my mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. And last week, she had surgery to remove it. It’ll be a few months of recovery ahead, but the way she handled it – bouncing right back better and bossier than ever – reminded me of that Boomer resilience that some say (and I hope) we’ve inherited. But it also underscored how important excellent health care is: While watching doctors dote on my mom was a relief, I couldn’t help but think about all the people who don’t have that, not just all over the world, but right here at home. And while nine million uninsured children is a disgrace, our aging population will be larger than ever in the coming years – because of both the number of Boomers, and their lengthening life span – and adequate health care will be essential for them. Not meeting those needs would be a disgrace, too.

So that’s what I’ve been thinking about, guys. What does it all mean? I don’t know yet, except that there’s a long road of recovery and rebuilding ahead for us, too. Have I fallen off the maudlin cliff, or do you feel it, too?

Just when I think the Gen Y conversation’s gone stale, a new theme emerges that proves me wrong, and this year, it was a social one. But perhaps not the one you’d expect: It wasn’t social responsibility, or even social networking, but (our lack of) social connection, and by extension, aptitude. If it seems I’ve been harping on this a bit (witness “Making true connections in a Facebook world”), I have — because this might be the area where we have the most to learn, and the most to lose if we don’t learn it.

What better time to start those lessons, then, than right now, as many of us head home to family and holiday parties galore this December, situations that often traditionally elicit at least as much dread and drinking as goodwill? So this December, I vote we actually (gasp) talk to people, and (double–gasp) mean it. As New Year’s resolutions go, it’s a basic one, I know. But after all my cheerleading and translating for our cohort, I’ve also learned a few things about where we fall down. And making substantive connections, whether they’re on or off the web, is increasingly becoming one of those places, especially if what I’ve been hearing from you all is any indication.

Consider Hannah Seligson’s November New York Times story, “For Help Finding a Job, Friends in Low Places.” Hannah, a Gen Y author I met when I wrote about her book last year, told me I might be the “contrarian” voice in her piece, which explored Yers’ efforts to utilize their peer network — instead of, say, their parents’ friends — to find job opportunities. Hardly in a rush to read my curmudgeonly comments, I waited a while to read the story.

And then an odd thing happened: I started to get e-mails and calls from people (my own younger sister included) thanking me for being honest and realistic about what one Yer might have to offer another, especially over something like Facebook. “It’s very easy to just send out a friend request,” I’d told Hannah, “but when you are looking for jobs, you want to make sure your peer network is comprised of people who can speak to your qualities, not just vouch for you as a friend on Facebook.” It certainly wasn’t revolutionary, but it resonated, likely because — like me — many of you are finding yourselves drawing that new distinction between Facebook friends and real ones, too. And let’s just say Facebook friends don’t always make great references, mentors, or, well, friends.

So in the interest of having real relationships, let’s treat every connection we make from now on as sincerely as possible. And let’s keep the connections we already have from going generic. That friend you only see on IM? Drag him or her out to lunch. If you’re home this break, take the time to catch up with old friends in person, rather than updating them via Facebook status (or relying on that most formidable of networks, the Former PTA Moms Phone Tree).

Or if you run into someone you haven’t seen in a while on Facebook, take the time to write a quick note instead of sending a blank friend request. This makes you a person, instead of a profile your would-be friend has to poke around in till s/he remembers who you are and confirms that you aren’t insane. (And this goes double for people you don’t know, but would like to; they’ll be much more likely to respond to an “I love your work!” than nothing at all.)

Even when it comes to folks who’ve made themselves available as part of your university alumni network or company mentoring program, reach out to them first as an individual and second as an opportunity. And always do it with some humility and gratitude. After all, there’s a huge difference between an e-mail that says, “You’re in a field I love, and I’d really appreciate a bit of advice,” and one that says, “Here are the three jobs I’d like at your company, and my resume’s attached.” (Both of which I’ve gotten, by the way.)

The moral of the story: Use all the tools available to you, but use them to build relationships, not just networks, social or otherwise. A Boomer parent/executive stopped to chat with me recently about the seeming contradiction between Gen Yers’ affinity for technology and our need for interpersonal connection, and as we wrestled with it, he said something that stuck with me: “The technology is actually getting us back to where we used to be.” A few generations ago, one’s hometown alone offered a lifetime’s worth of deep connections. In today’s sprawling, mobile, hyperactive world, not so much. And while technology’s helping us to (re)create some of that community online, we’re still a long way from replicating the lasting bonds that used to form naturally in our neighborhoods and help shape us into the people we were supposed to become.

Good news is, those bonds still do exist in the real world. So, as a present to ourselves and everyone who’ll ever have to know us, let’s go get them back.

I saw snow for the first time this season last week. I was on a train from Philadelphia back to New York and — after spending the night listening to Phillies fans in the streets and waking up at 6 a.m. to spend the stormy morning on a Gen Y panel – I was exhausted. But when I looked up from my book (Neil Gaiman’s Neverwhere) to the snow swirling against the rust and mustard of autumn trees and a winter-gray sky, it gave me a little rush of joy.

While it certainly meant the onset of winter and, as we say in my family, a *suckster* commute, it mostly reminded me of being a kid. Those of you from comparable climes will know what I’m talking about: waking up to white everywhere, waiting with bated breath for the local radio or TV guys to confirm school was canceled, and clambering into your snow-day finest to go act a (frozen) fool outside with your friends.

But as lovely as that memory was, it also made me think of a conversation I’d had with one of the panel attendees that morning. A thirtysomething father of three living in the Philly area, he came up after the talk to ask what I thought the youngest Yers would be like as they grew up. But before I could get a word in, he started talking about his own kids. I’m going to kick them off the games and the phone and send them outside, he said. “None of that.”

And then he told me about his three-year-old, who had been wreaking barefoot havoc on his tricycle on the curb recently, and attracted a neighbor’s concerned attention. “He comes running across the street,” the Xer dad told me, laughing, “meanwhile his 12-year-old is wearing a helmet on his Razor scooter in the driveway. He said we just have different parenting styles.” And while coddling parents worried this Xer, something else really stressed him out: A friend complained recently that his 16-year-old had sent 11,000 text messages in one month – “My wife and I calculated,” he practically yelled, “that’s 366 a day!”

When people ask me what I think will be Yers’ challenges moving forward, I often cite technology. And not because of the technology itself, but because of all it enables. Parents now have to work to get their kids out of the house, instead of working to get them in, the way our moms used to at dinnertime. And as much as tools like texting and Facebook have made it possible for us to maintain more “friendships” than ever, I’d argue that those same technologies have made it more difficult to cultivate the few close relationships that shape every person over a lifetime. There’s something about actually being together, talking all night, and even getting in fights that can’t be replicated on a laptop or iPhone — and that’s essential to being a person, never mind a success.

After all, how can you lead or manage if you’ve never learned to really, substantively, fundamentally connect to other people, in the truest sense of the word? And let’s be honest, you can’t do much of that and send 366 texts a day. (Which, incidentally, speaks to something else I’ve been getting angst-mail about lately: Mom and Dad, take your grown kids off your cellphone plan! Sheesh.)

It’s nothing that’ll be solved in a day, and maybe some of it is nostalgia for a simpler, less wired past. (Hah.) But I’m already hearing some working Yers say that they’ve started carving out downtime from all the pinging and buzzing in an effort to stay sane and centered. As it stands, we’re at that moment when — with so many new and exciting tools and not much sense of what their long-term effect will be — we’re more or less letting it all run wild. But that can hardly go on forever, and I can’t imagine it’ll be too long before we reach an equilibrium where we can exploit the great aspects of these tools without falling victim to the more problematic ones.

That occurred to me, too, on that train: Sitting in the “quiet car” on the Acela — where the woman next to me actively shushed other people on the train, pointing imperiously to the “Quiet Car” sign above — I was struck by how annoying the endless click-clacking of BlackBerrys and laptops became, and how much I missed the low hum of, you know, people that used to make travel fun and interesting for me. But perhaps most disturbing was that I succumbed to it myself, curled up in my book like some sort of sad sleeping snail passing time till more favorable conditions emerged. And that’s why it was so nice to look up, surprised, and be reminded that there’s a world out there, and I used to – and should – enjoy it.

Every time politics comes up in my household – especially these days – it ends up being a very long conversation. It was no different the other day, when a colleague stopped by for a visit. Except that the discussion wasn’t about John McCain or Barack Obama or even a policy question; it was about how uncomfortable we are talking about the candidates in the office – and how much more comfortable others seem to be.

We’re both in media, both Gen Y, both cool-enough downtown girls (we hope). Yet based on the venting going on in my living room that afternoon, we also seem to have deep-seated issues with how the exciting general political climate has translated into what should be the less-dramatic workplace.

And we’re not just talking about old-school corporate institutions here. My friend works at an openly liberal entertainment media company, which might explain why some of her coworkers feel it’s alright to do some Barack Obama organizing in the office. But even at a company that’s in the business of ideology – one where you might think you know everyone’s views — it’s almost never a good idea to take the conversation from the general to the specific by, you know, doing things like sending group invites to Obama events to the entire work e-mail list.

By now, we should all be saying, Stop it. Nobody sent out Obama fliers to their office list. That would be crazy. (Everybody knows, and this New York Times story will confirm, that even political paraphernalia in your own office is bad, never mind in everyone else’s inbox.) But that’s where, apparently, we’d all be wrong. Because this is exactly the situation that got my friend going in the first place. And not necessarily because she’s not an Obama supporter. Sending what amounts to political advertising to all your colleagues – particularly if you’re at a company of more than, say, three people, and don’t know everyone’s feelings on the matter — is about as tactful as filling their in-boxes with Scripture. Put plainly: Not cool.

Now, I have to admit that when I brought this outrage up with my sister, expecting equal amounts of ire, her response surprised me. Social justice-minded 23-year-old who she is, she went in six seconds from, “That’s an, um, conservative tack for you take,” to, “Why isn’t it okay to say, ‘anyone who thinks coastal oil drilling is a good idea is an idiot’ at work?!”

Maybe she’s right to feel that, in the face of problems we have today, your comfort or mine shouldn’t be her primary concern. But here’s the trouble: When you take that fight to a coworker, you’re assuming that they agree with you, and if they don’t, you’re forcing them to pretend they do, or admit they don’t, opening the door to a potentially volatile situation.

That’s all well and good at three in the morning sitting around the old freshman dorm, but it doesn’t work in the office. When it comes right down to it, most of us are at work to achieve our own and our company’s goals, not to have values debates. And no matter how ideological your business, if the last decade of election results are any indication, for every person with your opinions, there’s at least one other person with completely opposite views. There’s probably at least one of those people on your office e-mail list, whether they’re “out” about it or not. And every time you choose to ignore that, you risk alienating that person.

Not only is that kind of friction – be it overt or covert – going to be detrimental to achieving your career goals, it’s bad behavior. Part of being human, never mind American, is respecting other people’s right to be who they are, and when it comes to something as intensely personal as one’s vote, well, what’s more fundamental than that?

None of this should be breaking news. It wasn’t so long ago that talking politics — or religion, or money, or relationships – at the office was considered a serious faux pas. But as we’ve said before (e.g. “Your salary: Don’t ask, don’t tell?”), that list of taboos is getting shorter, and obviously, for some people, it no longer includes politics. Unfortunately, I don’t think that’s so much a conscious decision as a kind of (usually) benign obliviousness. And I’d like to believe that if the people doing the political proselytizing really knew how it was perceived, they might do things a little differently.

So, by all means, talk politics. Talk about what an amazing, historic election this is, what a committed electorate we suddenly have, or what strong contenders our candidates have become. Just do it with the same decorum and care you’d use with any other sensitive subject. And realize that, even when you think you’re being careful and measured in your casual chatter, someone with different opinions might not see it that way. (It’s hard, for instance, to say you think anyone who’s pro-coastal drilling is an idiot without being just a tad pejorative.)

While it might be fine to go there with close friends, or even coworkers who are also close friends, chances are you aren’t close to everyone you work with, so better to leave the controversy at home (or at the bar, or at the local Greenpeace chapter – whatever floats your boat. Or, er, sinks it. See? This is exactly what I’m talking about.)

Even more, if you see a fellow Gen Yer – or anyone for that matter — heading into dangerous territory, consider finding a kind and subtle way to tell them so. And remember, too, that when this sort of thing goes on, it allows older folks to see us as a monolith. If you’re young and vaguely hip, whatever your actual opinions are, you’re assumed to be an Obama fan. Sure, Obama has had unbelievable success using Facebook and other Gen Y-friendly strategies, but that doesn’t mean every Yer’s a Barack booster.

And even if am a fan – and hey, I might be – nobody likes being stuffed in a box like that, especially when it comes to politics, and in an election as hotly contested as this one.

(Some of you longtime Gig fans will no doubt be thinking, But Nads, this is what we do every week: Generalize about Gen Y! Okay, but that’s in the service of understanding each other and explaining ourselves, not marginalizing each other’s perspectives. And some of it’s even based on actual observation and research! But it’s nice – and important – to be reminded that, in reality, we’re dealing with individuals. Sometimes we may act like we share a brain, but we don’t. For the most part.)

Call it my conservative (lowercase “c,” guys) New England upbringing, or just my nice-guy empathy for differing viewpoints, but we’re at work to be put upon by our bosses, not other people’s politics. And let’s be honest, the world is better that way: When I got one of those Obama blasts on our own work list, I couldn’t help but wonder what would’ve happened if someone had responded with “Go McCain” or some such. A-w-k-w-a-r-d.

So have you noticed it, too? Do you have your own tales of inappropriate office politics to tell? Or do I just need to loosen up?

Hello, everybody! Hope your 2008 is off to an amazing start, and despite all appearances to the contrary, I have not in fact fled to a foreign country in an effort to shirk my Gig duties. Actually, I got a nasty flu and decided to spare you guys the NyQuil-induced ramblings. (And hey, I did say I’d be back in January, and technically, it is still January, right? )

But it was lovely to come back to your sweet letters, and Gig reader Juan gets a special shout-out for threatening to seek therapy if I didn’t get back to work. So in the interest of Juan’s mental health — and let’s be honest, my own; I missed you guys! — let’s get to it. We’ve got some new stuff in store that I’ll be excited to get your thoughts on, but in the New Year’s tradition, I thought we’d start with a bit of reflection. By that I mean, it’s been a few weeks since last we spoke, and in my acetaminophen haze, I had a lot of time to think. So today, friends, I’m going to torture you with…

WHAT I LEARNED OVER THE BREAK

(or “5 maudlin semi-epiphanies that are sure to infuriate Yadgyu, which only further motivates me to share them”)

Be forewarned, I really have missed you guys, and it shows in the treatise that follows. So apologies in advance. And in case you don’t make it to the end, we’d love to hear about your recent semi-epiphanies, so comment away.

1. We’re too old to spend two straight weeks at Mom’s.

Remember when you used to come home on a break and, as annoyed as you might’ve been at your parents, you kind of loved vegging at home? Well, I think those days might need to be over, at least for me and all of the other should-be independent twentysomething people we know and love.

Regular readers have probably by now ascertained that my family’s pretty tight (i.e. if we were any closer, we’d be sardines). And yet, when the kids decided that this holiday, we’d kick it old school and spend all our time off at Mom’s, we didn’t really know what we were in for.

Our hearts were in the right place; this was her first Christmas in a new house and we wanted to give her as many opportunities to cook ginormous meals as possible. But seriously, by about Dec. 28, we’d each gained 10 pounds and reverted to our worst, whiniest, most awfully teenage incarnation.

So while it’s true what we’ve often said here — that while for many Yers, there’s often nothing our moms would like better than to have us home — it’s time to have our own homes! And maybe even host our own holiday parties! The kind our parents can come to, with, like, real wine and no passing out. Sheesh.

2. We’re not too old to play Wii till 4 a.m.

The preceding tirade notwithstanding, it turns out that one good thing about regressing to childhood at home is remembering that there are some seemingly childish things that are pretty darn awesome — including, but not limited to, the Wii, hot chocolate, Legos and Animal Planet.

And incredibly, when you indulge (a bit) in these extravagances, you often come to the realization that this stuff is at least as cool as standing around at a cocktail party trying to sound smart and wishing you were home watching Adult Swim. Which is what I for one often found myself doing when I got my first real gig and suddenly started worrying about being taken seriously by my legitimately grown-up colleagues.

But as I get legitimately older myself (officially identified a wrinkle, FYI) and vaguely more secure, I’m finding that my favorite Gen Y “characteristics,” to the extent that those exist, are all our little paradoxes. Love the environment/drive an SUV. Most educated people ever/obsessed with MTV. Grew up too fast/can’t get out of our parents’ houses to save our lives. (And before you letter-writers get going, I am speaking very generally here, folks.)

So yes, sure we want to be — and should want to be — adults, but a little Wii never hurt anyone. At least not if you keep your Wii jacket on, take breaks, and clear all the furniture out of your living room. And more importantly, it does keep you from turning into into Holden Caulfield’s long-lost angstier twin, even if you do spend an eternity at your Mom’s.

3. We’re finally just old enough to learn the good stuff.

There was an upside to the aforementioned eternity, though. When we were small, our mom worked a full day; cooked dinner every evening; sewed, papier-mâché’d, and otherwise “project”ed with us every night; and still found time to be best friends with our teachers and know all our business.

As a kid, you take that good stuff for granted and ask yourself why, oh, why, you’ve been cursed with a mom who won’t just take you to McDonald’s. By the time you go away to school, you appreciate it enough to miss the nourishment, but not quite enough to understand the labor. But once you’re out in the world with a real job and bills to pay, well, then you start to get it. (Forget kids; my fish would file a petition of neglect if they could.)

Talk about your self-esteem killers. My poor sister and I will so never be as anything as our mom. Which is why this break, what with the eternity we spent at home, we actually got the chance to ask some questions and learn some things. And not the encyclopedia factoids and oft-repeated lectures we groaned at in our argumentative youth, either. But some things that are actually worth knowing, like recipes for the West Indian dishes we grew up eating, the patterns for our favorite sundresses, and the full-length versions of family ghost stories we’ve been hearing in snippets for years.

It shouldn’t be all that long before we (gasp) have our own children, and if we want to be even decent approximations of the good older people in our lives, we’d better start asking the right questions now. There isn’t much of a precedent for that in our country, and goodness knows we Yers are sometimes considered the worst offenders when it comes to valuing our elders, but I do know that we value expertise, and more often than not, the people who raised us have some that’s worth sharing.

4. Sometimes, you just have to say, “Look how amazing I am.”

As little as we know, there is something to be said for a little self-affirmation in spite of it all. Consider my brother Kamran, the RIT freshman. We’re all sitting at the dinner table over the holiday, chatting away, and our mom gets a call from one of the engineers at her office, who was dealing with a problem. She hangs up, shares some (general and totally over my head) details with us, and Kam says, “Oh, so he has to replace the filament.” Mom says something along the lines of, “Yes, precisely, exactly, quite right,” our collective eyes glaze over, and somewhere in the ensuing self-absorbed silence, Kam says to himself, and I kid you not: “Look at how amazing I am.”

Laughter, of course, erupts. But he’s so far off in his own world that he seems a tad confused about the reaction, still smiling to himself over his little triumph. Obviously, he suffered merciless derision the rest of the holiday (for this and his sheepish admission that, until this Christmas, he thought Elvis Presley’s “Blue Christmas” was in fact called “Hullabaloo Christmas” — classic).

But my mom rightly pointed out that for a kid who, after getting his first 80-something on an elementary school spelling test, spent the entire afternoon with a sheet over his face, emerging only to cry, “I’m the only one who gets B’s in the family,” some quiet self-regard was a big deal, as it should be. So regard yourself quietly, and remember how amazing you are. Just don’t tell your siblings, if they’re the sort that, you know, live to mock you.

5. A good job is like a good boyfriend.

And that, dear readers, is why I’ve been gone so long. Because, if I’m being honest, I’d tried to open my apartment door with my office key just one too many times. And had even answered my cell phone, “Fortune,” on more than one occasion. Never mind the sad realization that, as far as my brain was concerned, I’d used and abused every word I had to give, and might in fact have had nothing left to say. My work boundaries were so fluid that I was drowning on and off the job, and that does not a good life — or good Gig writing — make.

But as the proverbial “they” say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. And with a few weeks away from you and the real-life boyfriend, I’ve returned excited to see you both, with new and (I hope) interesting things to talk about, and a fair amount of starry-eyed optimism about what this year might hold. If you’ve read this far, you’re feeling pretty optimistic, too (certainly about the outside possibility that this’ll end up being worthwhile reading ). And you can probably also tell that, whatever I might say, as monstrously long as this post has been, I obviously missed writing to and for you. And that’s just the kind of re-discovery I’m hoping is in store for all of us. So here’s to making our work work for us in 2008. It’s going to be fun.

Allrighty then. Guess I did miss pontificating with you guys. But now that we’re done with that, on to the 56 million new posts I’ve been planning. And in the meantime, if my musings got you to thinking, let us know what you learned — or un-learned — since last we blogged…

Hello, everybody! Hope your 2008 is off to an amazing start, and despite all appearances to the contrary, I have not in fact fled to a foreign country in an effort to shirk my Gig duties. Actually, I got a nasty flu and decided to spare you guys the NyQuil-induced ramblings. (And hey, I did say I’d be back in January, and technically, it is still January, right? )

But it was lovely to come back to your sweet letters, and Gig reader Juan gets a special shout-out for threatening to seek therapy if I didn’t get back to work. So in the interest of Juan’s mental health — and let’s be honest, my own; I missed you guys! — let’s get to it. We’ve got some new stuff in store that I’ll be excited to get your thoughts on, but in the New Year’s tradition, I thought we’d start with a bit of reflection. By that I mean, it’s been a few weeks since last we spoke, and in my acetaminophen haze, I had a lot of time to think. So today, friends, I’m going to torture you with…

WHAT I LEARNED OVER THE BREAK

(or “5 maudlin semi-epiphanies that are sure to infuriate Yadgyu, which only further motivates me to share them”)

Be forewarned, I really have missed you guys, and it shows in the treatise that follows. So apologies in advance. And in case you don’t make it to the end, we’d love to hear about your recent semi-epiphanies, so comment away.

1. We’re too old to spend two straight weeks at Mom’s.

Remember when you used to come home on a break and, as annoyed as you might’ve been at your parents, you kind of loved vegging at home? Well, I think those days might need to be over, at least for me and all of the other should-be independent twentysomething people we know and love.

Regular readers have probably by now ascertained that my family’s pretty tight (i.e. if we were any closer, we’d be sardines). And yet, when the kids decided that this holiday, we’d kick it old school and spend all our time off at Mom’s, we didn’t really know what we were in for.

Our hearts were in the right place; this was her first Christmas in a new house and we wanted to give her as many opportunities to cook ginormous meals as possible. But seriously, by about Dec. 28, we’d each gained 10 pounds and reverted to our worst, whiniest, most awfully teenage incarnation.

So while it’s true what we’ve often said here — that while for many Yers, there’s often nothing our moms would like better than to have us home — it’s time to have our own homes! And maybe even host our own holiday parties! The kind our parents can come to, with, like, real wine and no passing out. Sheesh.

2. We’re not too old to play Wii till 4 a.m.

The preceding tirade notwithstanding, it turns out that one good thing about regressing to childhood at home is remembering that there are some seemingly childish things that are pretty darn awesome — including, but not limited to, the Wii, hot chocolate, Legos and Animal Planet.

And incredibly, when you indulge (a bit) in these extravagances, you often come to the realization that this stuff is at least as cool as standing around at a cocktail party trying to sound smart and wishing you were home watching Adult Swim. Which is what I for one often found myself doing when I got my first real gig and suddenly started worrying about being taken seriously by my legitimately grown-up colleagues.

But as I get legitimately older myself (officially identified a wrinkle, FYI) and vaguely more secure, I’m finding that my favorite Gen Y “characteristics,” to the extent that those exist, are all our little paradoxes. Love the environment/drive an SUV. Most educated people ever/obsessed with MTV. Grew up too fast/can’t get out of our parents’ houses to save our lives. (And before you letter-writers get going, I am speaking very generally here, folks.)

So yes, sure we want to be — and should want to be — adults, but a little Wii never hurt anyone. At least not if you keep your Wii jacket on, take breaks, and clear all the furniture out of your living room. And more importantly, it does keep you from turning into into Holden Caulfield’s long-lost angstier twin, even if you do spend an eternity at your Mom’s.

3. We’re finally just old enough to learn the good stuff.

There was an upside to the aforementioned eternity, though. When we were small, our mom worked a full day; cooked dinner every evening; sewed, papier-mâché’d, and otherwise “project”ed with us every night; and still found time to be best friends with our teachers and know all our business.

As a kid, you take that good stuff for granted and ask yourself why, oh, why, you’ve been cursed with a mom who won’t just take you to McDonald’s. By the time you go away to school, you appreciate it enough to miss the nourishment, but not quite enough to understand the labor. But once you’re out in the world with a real job and bills to pay, well, then you start to get it. (Forget kids; my fish would file a petition of neglect if they could.)

Talk about your self-esteem killers. My poor sister and I will so never be as anything as our mom. Which is why this break, what with the eternity we spent at home, we actually got the chance to ask some questions and learn some things. And not the encyclopedia factoids and oft-repeated lectures we groaned at in our argumentative youth, either. But some things that are actually worth knowing, like recipes for the West Indian dishes we grew up eating, the patterns for our favorite sundresses, and the full-length versions of family ghost stories we’ve been hearing in snippets for years.

It shouldn’t be all that long before we (gasp) have our own children, and if we want to be even decent approximations of the good older people in our lives, we’d better start asking the right questions now. There isn’t much of a precedent for that in our country, and goodness knows we Yers are sometimes considered the worst offenders when it comes to valuing our elders, but I do know that we value expertise, and more often than not, the people who raised us have some that’s worth sharing.

4. Sometimes, you just have to say, “Look how amazing I am.”

As little as we know, there is something to be said for a little self-affirmation in spite of it all. Consider my brother Kamran, the RIT freshman. We’re all sitting at the dinner table over the holiday, chatting away, and our mom gets a call from one of the engineers at her office, who was dealing with a problem. She hangs up, shares some (general and totally over my head) details with us, and Kam says, “Oh, so he has to replace the filament.” Mom says something along the lines of, “Yes, precisely, exactly, quite right,” our collective eyes glaze over, and somewhere in the ensuing self-absorbed silence, Kam says to himself, and I kid you not: “Look at how amazing I am.”

Laughter, of course, erupts. But he’s so far off in his own world that he seems a tad confused about the reaction, still smiling to himself over his little triumph. Obviously, he suffered merciless derision the rest of the holiday (for this and his sheepish admission that, until this Christmas, he thought Elvis Presley’s “Blue Christmas” was in fact called “Hullabaloo Christmas” — classic).

But my mom rightly pointed out that for a kid who, after getting his first 80-something on an elementary school spelling test, spent the entire afternoon with a sheet over his face, emerging only to cry, “I’m the only one who gets B’s in the family,” some quiet self-regard was a big deal, as it should be. So regard yourself quietly, and remember how amazing you are. Just don’t tell your siblings, if they’re the sort that, you know, live to mock you.

5. A good job is like a good boyfriend.

And that, dear readers, is why I’ve been gone so long. Because, if I’m being honest, I’d tried to open my apartment door with my office key just one too many times. And had even answered my cell phone, “Fortune,” on more than one occasion. Never mind the sad realization that, as far as my brain was concerned, I’d used and abused every word I had to give, and might in fact have had nothing left to say. My work boundaries were so fluid that I was drowning on and off the job, and that does not a good life — or good Gig writing — make.

But as the proverbial “they” say, absence makes the heart grow fonder. And with a few weeks away from you and the real-life boyfriend, I’ve returned excited to see you both, with new and (I hope) interesting things to talk about, and a fair amount of starry-eyed optimism about what this year might hold. If you’ve read this far, you’re feeling pretty optimistic, too (certainly about the outside possibility that this’ll end up being worthwhile reading ). And you can probably also tell that, whatever I might say, as monstrously long as this post has been, I obviously missed writing to and for you. And that’s just the kind of re-discovery I’m hoping is in store for all of us. So here’s to making our work work for us in 2008. It’s going to be fun.

Allrighty then. Guess I did miss pontificating with you guys. But now that we’re done with that, on to the 56 million new posts I’ve been planning. And in the meantime, if my musings got you to thinking, let us know what you learned — or un-learned — since last we blogged…

So I see no one wants to take the plunge commenting on parents, so while you all ponder that, check out our latest bit of Gig-related video. This one’s on holiday parties, growing out of last week’s post on surviving these affairs.

And actually, since writing that piece, my neighbor has clued me in to another important aspect of navigating the holiday party scene: height. Apparently — and being a tallish person who lives in heels, I hadn’t given this much thought before — people who skew a bit shorter can have a hard time picking their way through the forest of colleagues. So if that’s you, anticipate it — if you can, wear heels, and if not, stake out a vantage point on higher ground. (Laugh if you want, but we talk real, practical issues here!)

As for video itself, it’s been a fun and functional addition to what we do here, and I’m glad to hear that some of you are liking it. I must confess that, being the reclusive writer-type at heart (no, really), it was already a little strange to have not just the formal, feature-length, agonized-over-for-weeks words out there, but also all the informal — sometimes flip, angry, unfair or downright dumb — words I’ve been inspired to blog floating around the universe, too. Add television and video to that, and one can begin to feel, as a Columbia University Graduate School of Journalism student put it to me recently, “more like a marketer than a writer.”

Of course, writing’s not worth much if no one ever reads it, so maybe this is the direction things have to go and we just have to get used to it. Thoughts? Will you be less likely to snuggle up to that New Yorker or Harper’s if the superstar septuagenarians aren’t keeping vlogs for your viewing pleasure? Or will you end up respecting the rest of us — those of us who do vlog and the like — a little less?

It seems hardly a day goes by anymore where Facebook isn’t the topic of conversation in business circles – as a mild annoyance or the mother of all marketing tools. We’ve even discussed it here on The Gig, where the Facebook stragglers among us had to ask how, in the name of goodness, to avoid undesirable associates trying to “friend” us.

But this weekend, in the wake of Thanksgiving, that most American of family holidays, the Facebook drama finally hit home for me with a distressed call from my sister, Lisa: “Kamran won’t be my friend,” she all but wailed. Turns out our 18-year-old brother, Kamran, who’s a freshman at RIT this year, had officially ignored her friendship request. When I intervened, reassuring him that, unlike Mom, we’d ignore any teenage Facebook indiscretions — his pic was a shot of him smoking a cigar in some nondescript club — he promptly informed me that 1) he was at a perfectly respectable cigar bar watching Bloomberg in that photo, and 2) “Facebook and family don’t mix.”

Now that’s not exactly news; lots of parents have written about their quests to friend their children, with varying degree of success — especially when it comes to naughty gifts, at least according to the New York Times. (As for our own mother, briefed on the family Facebook imbroglio, she squawked, “Facebook?! Isn’t that where the child rapers are?” Lucky we’re such trustworthy kids.) But we’re siblings; we’re supposed to be friends. According to Kam, evidently, not so much.

Before I became too indignant, though, he reminded me of my own slow introduction to Facebook. Having graduated from school in 2002, I just missed the explosion of Facebook on campus, so I didn’t find my way to the wonders of Scrabulous until — gasp — some senior Fortune folk forced the issue. And as a result, Facebook for me isn’t so much about poking, spanking, and gifting as it is about keeping up with colleagues.

Am I missing out? Maybe. As Kam seems to know instinctively, some relationships are best lived outside the realm of status updates and party pics. And great as it is to build extra-office relationships with co-workers, I live in fear of the day that some publicist-cum-stalker tries to friend me. (Or worse yet, that a person I idolize in the office engineers his own fall from grace via The Wall or something like.) That may be a small price to pay for the increased connectivity, but I’m not sure yet.

Perhaps it’s just a matter of creating an internal version for our offices so that we can have all the functionality of Facebook without the potentially uncomfortable colliding of worlds. Or, as in the case of my little brother, we’ll just be dragged along whether we like it or not: Lisa, the family’s true Facebooker, took matters into her own hands and started recruiting every Tom, Joe, and Stanley to her new group, “Can my brother please be friends with me on Facebook?” (Apparently, when she hits 200 members, Mr. Too Cool For School will relent. Make your voice heard here. Comedy.)

Predictably, I cringed — why involve perfect strangers in this disgraceful bit of familial strife? — but maybe, once again, I’m just a big curmudgeon. Of course, it’s only with this little fracas that Kamran and Lisa have become really engaged with and excited about Facebook; it’s the randomness that’s attractive, the prospect of sharing an inside joke with untold numbers of outsiders. And perhaps that’s the crux of the problem: For them, it’s meeting random people that keeps them at their keyboards. For me and many other sometime-cynics, it’s the threat of random people that keeps us locked in our offices.

And while knowing everything there is to know about one’s “friends” might be attractive, there is such a thing as knowing way too much. At a certain point, if it isn’t about Scrabulous and party pics — i.e., the young person’s footloose and fancy-free life — doesn’t Facebook become just another bit of work we have to do? (Or, in Kam’s case, another thing to protect our parents and big sisters from?) You tell me: Can family, be it at home or in the office, mix? And even if they can, should they?

And we’re back. After two weeks out of the office — at the Most Powerful Women Summit, on a quick birthday vacation to Playa del Carmen, and at my fifth reunion at Stanford — I’m probably more tired than when I left, but glad to be back. Reunion spurred some unexpected reflection (i.e., beyond the standard reminiscing), much of it surprisingly closely related to the conversations we’ve been having on The Gig. But I may need another day or two to process that and turn it into some vaguely coherent copy.

In the meantime, though, I wanted to make sure that you’d all read Thomas Friedman’s New York Times column last week, about us, the group he calls Generation Q (or the Quiet Americans). It’s a laudatory label, meant at least in part to underscore our commitment to service and the greater good at home and abroad, but it’s not without criticism.

“America needs a jolt of the idealism, activism and outrage (it must be in there) of Generation Q,” Friedman writes. “That’s what twentysomethings are for — to light a fire under the country. But they can’t e-mail it in, and an online petition or a mouse click for carbon neutrality won’t cut it. They have to get organized in a way that will force politicians to pay attention rather than just patronize them.”

When I read this, I couldn’t help but nod in agreement, having signed a few less than effective online petitions in my day. But when, a few days later, I saw Friedman speak on a panel at Reunion, titled “Courting Disaster: The Fight for Oil, Water and a Healthy Planet,” that also included General John Abizaid and U.S. Supreme Court Justice Stephen Breyer, I understood better.

Whatever one thinks of his views, Friedman’s passion is inspiring. And not just because that’s what he does for a living; he’s representative of a whole group of people whose passion we ought to have inherited.

Have we? I’m not sure. In small ways, maybe. Or perhaps it’s that we have got that passion and simply haven’t figured out how to express it in big ways. Regardless, I think he’s right — there are some big things that need doing, and they aren’t going to happen with a Facebook invite. (And I’m as guilty as the next person. It’s telling, don’t you think, that in five months of doing this blog, today was the first day I tagged a post “activism”?) Thoughts?

Here’s a question I’ve heard a lot more than I might’ve expected in my reporting on Gen Y. Let us know what you think, and thanks for all the well wishes. Have a great weekend!

*****

My boss is in her 30s, and I thought, since we’re close in age, that we’d get along well. Instead, she’s harder on me than my older bosses have been. What’s up with that?

When Boomer bosses complain about their Gen Y charges, says researcher Tamara Erickson, she just asks if they have any kids. “I see the difference immediately,” says the co-author of 2006’s Workforce Crisis. “But I haven’t found anything that effective for Gen Xers. When I try, I often run into a fairly grumpy reaction: ‘Well, I had to do it, and they ought to do it.’ They’re much more rigid about what they went through and not being sympathetic to Yers.”

It seems counterintuitive. These Xers are our big brothers and sisters, they taught us all our best bad behavior, we idolized them. While that appears to be true in retrospect, speaking as a big sister myself, I never miss an opportunity to remind my sibs how much they got away with because I’d paved the way. “When I was little…” has started many a bitter conversation. And we’re only talking about curfews and phone privileges.

So imagine how Xers in the workplace, where the stakes are so much higher, must feel. According to the Bureau of Labor Statistics, there are 48 million Xers to the almost 80 million of us and over 78 million Boomers. “People are paying attention to Yers to a degree that they didn’t necessarily pay to Xers, who are basically sandwiched between these huge globs of people in a very frustrating situation,” says Erickson. “They have annoying people like Tammy Erickson saying we have to retire retirement, so they’re not going to get rid of Boomers when they thought they would. And they’re already thinking that by the time Boomers actually leave, Yers will be perfectly positioned for those jobs. They’re very threatened by Yers.”

Which may help explain their sometimes less than loving attitude toward us in the office. But they needn’t depend on your empathy alone. For the Xers struggling to manage Yers — and their own emotions — more effectively, Erickson has a few thoughts. (That, incidentally, might be quite useful if e-mailed anonymously.)

Realize, she says, that Yers are very good at seeking out expertise, and they’re much more attuned to that than hierarchy, so Xers shouldn’t get offended if the Yers in their charge choose Boomers for mentors. “There’s great evidence of relationships forming between Boomers and Yers,” Erickson says. “Yers are sussing out who really knows how to do the job, and often it’s these old Boomers. But Xers can’t get caught up in that. They have to have the confidence to encourage Yers to team up with Boomers and make that an accepted part of the culture.”

And speaking of confidence, Xers also need to build some when it comes to technology. They’re very concerned about Yers’ greater technological sophistication, says Erickson, who points out that while Xers are perceived as very tech-savvy, some don’t feel as comfortable with technology as the perception indicates. Erickson recommends addressing that insecurity directly: “The Xers do really have to make sure that they’re experiencing the technology. A lot of what Yers know is not about them using the technology better, but about using it differently. Xers need to use the technology enough to develop some of that experiential knowledge.”

As an “older” Yer, even I didn’t quite understand what Facebook meant to my recent-grad sister and her friends until I finally started using it semi-regularly. Understanding how Yers use sites like this — that they aren’t just for e-mail or networking, but practically for conducting life — could go a long way to ease Xers’ technology anxiety. And insofar as that helps Xers to be more open and flexible in the way that they think about work, Erickson’s a fan: “It’d be great for Xer bosses to sit down with Yers and say, ‘Let’s think about all the time we spend scheduling meetings or doing conference calls. How much of that could we do with text messages or an internal Facebook site?’ Thinking like that will help Xers stay a step ahead.”

But whether your Xer boss is forward-thinking or as backward as Kris Kross, chances are that s/he’ll have a loopy episode sooner or later, so when it happens, don’t despair. Just remember where it’s coming from and try a little tenderness.