They have grown up playing Super Smash Bros. Each new release of the game becomes more vibrant, frenzied spastic, and chaotic. The torrent of pixels over the years have worn pathways in the synapses of malleable brains until no other external stimulate can compete. The banality of school, of work, even of common conversation pales when compared to the unceasing energy emitted from screen to eye and ear and hand. The stimulate is so forceful and the reward so instantaneous that a far off promise of a good grade, a paycheck, or an verbal exchange with the potential of increased intimacy lacks appeal.
Given their experience, it is no wonder millennials have half finished degrees or are found flitting from job to job, our are working part time and living in their childhood bedrooms.
Or, it could be I’m just jealous. Maybe I’m just a crotchety old man who’s green-eyed because he can’t get his fingers to work fast enough to win at a game he himself bought. I come in last, and it pisses me off.