This topic was almost made for me, which is actually quite funny if you knew my secret outlook on life. Here, then, are the beans:

I'm 20, so I think I qualify as one of those young adult things. I'm currently at university. I live away from home, but rely on parental income for support. My student loan doesn't quite cover the cost of living.

While I'm on campus, I look around at the other students and can't help but worry. A large number are there just because they didn't know what to do after leaving college. "I'm SO failing my course. Fancy a drink?" is, as you say, all too commonly heard near the beer. Three quarters of my *third year computing* class are completely unable to write a program, or to grasp the concepts of call-by-reference/value or pointers in C. Fortunately, most of the people I know well enough to hang around with are intelligent enough to know why they're there in the first place. Hope is not lost.

Oh, by the way. I'm so failing my course. That's why I've decided to suspend and start again next year, using the rest of this to earn some money. Really, what's the point in going to university knowing that you'll fail? The point is that it's a laugh, I suppose. Most people seem to go to university in order to get away from the parental home and to spend a few years nicely toasted. "Hey, I may even get a qualification out of it. That'd be nice."

Maybe the point at which someone really becomes an adult is when they make their own decisions and are prepared to accept the consequences. In that respect, I'd consider myself relatively mature, despite the fact that I still rely on parental support.

I think that expectations are low, and so kids/young adults generally just live up to them instead of exceeding them. I'd like to bring up an example from my murky past: RinkUnion 2.

I'm 18. I turn to my parents and say, "I want to go to America to see some people I met online." They lock me in a cupboard for a few weeks, but eventually they agree. On the way back from the event, disaster strikes and I'm left stranded in one state with my bags in another, at night and with only a few hours to go until my plane to London. I speak to a nice airline person and end up in New York. Further speakages to further people get me on a plane to Blighty, and yet more hand waving in front of confused tea ladies eventually returns to me my once-missing luggage. Besides being a moderately interesting story, this does relate to the topic of this post. My parents still can't believe that a lone 18-year-old managed to sort himself out in the Big Wide World. Expectations, it seems, are low.

I just wonder at what age the *next* generation is going to mature...

Matthew