Leading up to her high school graduation, Heather Garrett-Baity of St. Louis Park felt like her generation was on the verge of something great.
She was a member of the storied Class of 2000, who were proclaimed the bearers of a bright new technologically savvy future. They were the golden children, buoyed by the optimism and economic stability of the 1990s. Without the jadedness of the older kids in Generation X, who had grown up in a state of rebellion and angst; without the limited attention spans of their helicopter-parented younger millennial siblings.
But the world changed in 2001, with the Sept. 11 attacks, and the high hopes for these young dreamers dissipated.
"It felt like we were singled out and special in some way, but then we were just forgotten," said Garrett-Baity, now 35 and a doctoral student.
Many of the people who came of age around the turn of the millennium feel similarly set apart: Their unique experiences make them distinct from those who come before and after them, but leave them unmoored. Are they Generation X? Millennials? A little of both, or neither?
"We are definitely the square peg sandwiched between two very round holes," said Athena Pelton, a 36-year-old artist in northeast Minneapolis.
Generations, which typically span two decades, are marked by world events and massive societal changes. People on the end of a generation, however, often grow up vastly differently from those at the beginning. And there have long been splinter groups within a single generation.
The youngest baby boomers, for example, with little recollection of the assassination of JFK and late '60s protests, tried to break off into a separate Generation Jones (as in keeping up with the Joneses). It didn't stick.