by

The Great Divide

Listen, I get it. It’s become a common joke for Boomers and some early Gen Xers to tease young people for their lack of knowledge on outdated technology, like rotary phones, typewriters or card catalogs. But it’s not really fair, is it? I mean, it’s like expecting them to know how to churn butter or build a wagon from scratch – without consulting Google.

Sure, Gen Z might rock the trends Gen X started – fashion, music, and slang (now “retro,” thanks for making me feel old), even if they do sometimes forget they borrowed those trends. But they like to trash talk the older generations too. And sometimes, they get Gen X mixed up with Boomers. And while I take great offense at this malignment of our collective character, I can see where the confusion comes in. To a young person, anyone over 30 is just vaguely viewed as an “old person.” I remember what it was like. It’s a tale as old as time. We’ve all been there.

I can see why they might find our experiences so amusing and perhaps unbelievable. Born in the era of groundbreaking tech, the idea of a low-tech life is mind-boggling to them. I often reminisce about my childhood and laugh at the craziness of it all – three TV channels signing off with the national anthem, radio stations playing only bluegrass hymnals on Sundays and unapologetically calling it a night at midnight. Don’t even get me started on the advent of cable. I remember when HBO launched. Showtime came a couple of years later and to get a leg up on the competition, they aired “adult” content… right there on tv, for everyone to see. Their risqué late-night shows were the talk of the town.

To Gen Z and even those tech-savvy Millennials, three TV channels, stores being closed tight every Sunday, and kids drinking from the hose might sound like myths. But hey, they didn’t live it, and that’s perfectly okay. We Gen Xers are the bridge between the low-tech and high-tech eras because, having straddled both timelines, we’ve seen it all.

Now don’t get me wrong, I laugh – and I laugh hard – at TikTok videos featuring Gen X parents introducing their kids to the mystical rotary phone, watching the confusion grow on their faces as they try to make a simple call. But let’s not cross the line into serious discussions about the supposed weaknesses or lack of intelligence in our young people just because they can’t navigate “our” world. I mean, how are they supposed to know how to do something if they didn’t live it and weren’t taught it? Through osmosis?

So, next time you catch yourself thinking, “Kids these days don’t know anything,” remember, it’s all about perspective. After all, we Gen Xers are kinda clueless in their world of hashtags and virtual reality. Thank God for the Urban Dictionary is all I have to say. It’s a brave new world, and we’re all just trying to keep up.

by

Thoughtful Interlude

Okay, let’s get real here. Is it just me or do you have full-blown convos in your head too? Or, more accurately, do you think in audio? As in your thoughts are fully fledged words being spoken in your mind.

Like, I’m not crazy or anything (I swear), but sometimes my thoughts are just screaming at each other, and I can’t shut them up. And it’s not like we’re having a civilized conversation about politics or the weather – no, it’s more just a chaotic battle of words.

And don’t even get me started on reading. I can hear the words on the page playing out in my brain. I’m my own audiobook, which saves a lot of money on Audible. In fact, I’m hearing this as I’m typing it. My brain is like a never-ending narrator, providing commentary on my life, but without the cool film noir vibes.

Apparently, this is called an “internal monologue” and while not everyone has one (up to 70% of people do not), I am at least not alone in this. So, who else wants to join my crazy train? Choo choo!  If you just heard that train leaving the station, then you’re my kinda people. Let me know and we can start a support group (or just talk to ourselves together).

by

What’s on the Menu?

So, my daughter convinced me last week to go out to a local diner for a late lunch. I’m usually all about take-out and TV, because let’s face it, I hate people. And nowhere do I hate them more than at a restaurant. It’s just sensory overload for me. Between listening to loud chatter, chairs scraping on a concrete floor, and utensils against a plate, I go bonkers. Knowing this about myself, I still thought, why not? It was early, not yet the dinner rush, and really, how bad could it be? Spoiler alert: really freaking bad.

So, this dude behind me had some serious phlegm action going on. It was impressive, really. And you know how the sound of metal scraping a plate is like nails on a chalkboard? Well, it was like that…but with his knife carving directly into my brain. I swear, after the 6th time of his knife raking across the plate, I was about ready to lose it. Is it rude to just cover your ears at the table? You know what? I don’t care. He was on a serious mission to scrape, carve, and chisel his way through that pot roast like an archeologist discovering the Spear of Destiny. I’m surprised he had a plate left. Covering my ears was the least of my worries. I swear, it was all I could muster to not jump out of my seat and just snatch his plate away from him. I bet his wife would’ve thanked me. But I persevered. It might’ve been through gritted teeth and bad words, but I persevered.

The table across the room had been taken over by a gaggle of old folks. Why should I care, you ask? Well, one or more members of the group must’ve been hard of hearing, so we got to listen to their booming conversations as if we were sitting right at their table. We got to hear all about Aunt Gertrude’s sciatica and Uncle Bob’s colonoscopy (yep, they went there). Just when we thought we were catching a break, one of them gets a call and their ringtone is blasting like it’s a car at a red light, sharing their music with the world. Perhaps it wasn’t quite loud enough though, because it took them forever to silence it and that was only after a member of their group yelled “answer the goddamn phone, Phyllis!” And as if that wasn’t enough, Phyllis took the call on speakerphone so we could all join in on a conversation about her upcoming medical procedure involving a broken something or other. Thanks so much for sharing, but do you mind keeping it down? The whole place doesn’t need to know your entire medical history, come on. In fact, we were already doing just fine without knowing that.

But that wasn’t even the best part. This came in the form of a “what’s your favorite meal” competition in which one woman – maybe Phyllis – decided it was hotdog soup with spinach. Who knew that was even a thing? After a brief back and forth with my daughter on whether it was really an actual dish or some colossal joke, I was forced to Google it right then and there. I couldn’t just not, right? I mean, it’s hotdog soup for Pete’s sake! Well, it’s real, I’ll have you know. It’s apparently one of those inexpensive meals to make your family when times are tough, or you have several kids and you’re looking for a filling meal for everyone that won’t break the bank. Or it could just be you love hotdogs and are looking for another way to put them on the menu. Just FYI, there are a lot of recipes out there and I can’t say that any of them look good. But who am I to judge? Here’s one for you to try. Spinach must be an add on to spruce up the meal, because I didn’t find any with spinach as an ingredient. Thanks for that cooking tip, Phyllis!

And to think, I PAID for this experience. You’ll be glad to know, and I was too, no old folks were harmed during this meal.

Moral of the story: always listen to that little voice inside your head that says “just get take-out.” It will never steer you wrong.

by

No Secrets Here

You know what’s the latest trend in weddings? Eloping. And by eloping, I mean having a small intimate ceremony with just your partner and maybe a witness or two, some family, a few long-distance friends. Suffice it to say, eloping is just not as secretive as it used to be. People are posting about their elopements on social media like it’s the hottest new thing since avocado toast. Whatever happened to running off in the dead of night with your star-crossed lover to get hitched without your family’s approval? Now we have invitations, parties, and hashtags for this supposedly clandestine affair.

I mean, I get it. Who wouldn’t want to share their happiness with loved ones? But come on, isn’t the whole point of eloping to avoid all the stress and drama of planning a big wedding? Not to mention, there’s usually a reason for the elopement… the couple is too young, dad hates your fiancé, society looks down on the union, dad hates your fiancé, you know, the usual. After all, elopement refers to “a marriage that is conducted secretly and quickly, sometimes without parental consent.” These days, elopers just don’t seem to understand the whole elopement thing. Let’s just say they’re not the greatest of secret-keepers.

And don’t even get me started on the term “destination elopement.” It’s like people are purposely trying to make this once rebellious act into a luxurious vacation package. Sorry folks, but jetting off to Bora Bora with a bevy of friends to say “I do” doesn’t exactly scream spontaneous and secretive.

But hey, who am I to judge? If publicly announcing your elopement on every social media platform and throwing a lavish party afterwards is your jam, then more power to you. Just don’t be shocked when Uncle Bob shows up at your “secret” ceremony with a selfie stick in hand, ready to document it all for his #weddinggoals Instagram feed. Oh, you invited him? Right…

Welcome to the modern world of eloping, folks. Gotta love it.

by

The Joy of Winter

So, it’s freezing outside. Like, I can’t even feel my face kind of cold. Hey, is this what Botox feels like? Thank goodness I work from home, because I don’t know how people are functioning out there in this weather. And let’s talk about the snow and ice – can we just not? So yeah, it’s 14 degrees out at high noon, do we really have to simulate a frozen tundra as well? I know Texas and other places who are enjoying single digits right about now have it worse, but that doesn’t make me any less miserable as I watch the temperature dip lower into the teens. More snow on Friday? Oh, joy.

I mean, it might be worth it if I lived at a ski resort or deep in some dark forest where the snow stayed pristine, and I could feed the animals and have some quiet solitude. But living in a city where this so-called winter wonderland turns into a sludge-grey wasteland almost as fast as the snow hits the ground… nah, not worth it.

Why do I subject myself to such torture? Oh right, because everywhere else I’ve considered moving would still freeze my face off, and probably leave me bankrupt too. So basically, I’m on the hunt for a warm and cozy haven that won’t break the bank. Is that too much to ask for? Or should I just resign myself to this frozen hellscape?

by

Poetry (Not) in Motion

You know, January feels like that one friend who insists on telling you their entire life story every single time you meet up. It just goes on and on, and you start wondering if it will ever end. You’re sitting there, nodding along, trying to be polite, but deep down, you’re secretly checking the calendar every five minutes, hoping for some magical fast-forward button to appear. No, wait a minute, you know what? January is like the Monday of the year, and it’s dragging its feet, making you question if time has taken a vacation or is just playing an elaborate prank.

by

Resolution Schmezolution: The Year of Awesome

Let’s talk about the tradition of New Year’s resolutions. You know, those promises we make to ourselves that last about as long as a snowflake in a sauna.

As the clock strikes midnight and fireworks illuminate the sky, I find myself once again contemplating the profound notion of setting unrealistic goals for the next 365 days. And then it hit me – why bother? I mean, I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: who needs the stress of striving for perfection when we can just embrace the chaos and enjoy the ride?

I’m not making any New Year’s resolutions. Nope, not a single one. Instead, I’ve decided to channel my inner Zen master and focus on the art of not giving a flying fig about arbitrary goals.

Let’s face it, folks, the 12-month gym membership we buy in January and discard in March is really just a donation to the fitness industry. This year, I’m proudly sporting my “hibernating bear” bod and embracing the newfound joy of watching workout videos from the comfort of my couch. You see, it’s not laziness; it’s innovative fitness appreciation.

And don’t even get me started on the classic resolution to eat healthier. Kale, quinoa, and chia seeds? Please. I’m all about that balanced diet of pizza, tacos, and a side of ice cream. Life’s too short to deprive yourself of the simple pleasures, like a midnight snack or an impromptu dance party in the kitchen with a glass of wine and a bag of chips.

Rather than bog myself down with promises I won’t keep, I’m taking a different approach to 2024. In the spirit of spreading joy, I’ve decided to become the unofficial ambassador of kindness. Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me. I’m serious, and you should be too. Forget resolutions; let’s focus on being good people and helping others. Random acts of kindness, like holding the door open for someone or letting someone merge in traffic (yeah, yeah, I heard that snicker from the back) or being an ally where needed are the real currency of the soul.

So, there you have it – my revolutionary approach to New Year’s resolutions. Let’s ditch the pressure, embrace the chaos, and sprinkle kindness like confetti throughout the year. Who needs resolutions when you can have laughter, love, and a fridge stocked with snacks?

 

by

Having a Snoozefest

Here’s the thing. No matter how much evidence there is to the contrary, and there’s quite a bit, let me tell you, I still believe I can get ready and out the door in 15 minutes. I cheerfully convince myself of this every single day. It’s like my brain has a timer set on delusion mode. I’ve tested this theory multiple times and it always ends with me frantically throwing on clothes and running out the door, cursing my unrealistic expectations and forgetting my purse.

Most of it comes down to the fact that I want to stay in bed as long as humanly possible, so I hit the snooze button over and over again, convincing myself that I can get up, do the necessary morning chores, make a cup of coffee, lint roll my outfit, find my shoes, put on just enough make-up that I’m not scaring any little children I may come across during the day, get completely dressed (yeah, we’re not gonna talk about the 2018 pants incident), and make it out the door in under 15 minutes. Spoiler alert: it never happens.

Doctors’ appointments, grocery runs, meeting friends for coffee – all fodder for my unrealistic expectations. But hey, the extra snooze button hits are totally worth it, right? Right!? (cue nervous laughter). Truth be told, how much extra sleep can you get when you’re jerking awake to a Jump in the Line ringtone every five minutes? No wonder I’m a walking ball of anxiety. And yet, here I am. It’s fine, I’m fine.

Work is the only exception – because let’s be real, rolling out of bed and turning on my laptop doesn’t require much effort. #workfromhomeperks

by

Sharing is Caring… or is it?

Unfortunately, I had to venture out into the world today, even though I tried to think of every excuse not to. It went much as expected. In particular, I want to thank the person who kept pace with me for every single freakin’ red light through town blaring their music so loud my car – and indeed, the road around us – danced along. Not to mention my spine.

It’s lovely that you felt inspired to play DJ for the entirety of our little town, to share your tunes with the rest of us, regardless of your taste in music. Moreover, as a woman, I couldn’t help but appreciate the graphic lyrics describing the sexual violence your artist of choice intended to inflict on that “underaged tease.”

I can see where you might have thought we were in fact music-deprived, what with your car being the only one thump-thump-thumping and all. Easy mistake to make, for sure. Or perhaps you felt the world needed more noise, so you were just doing your part. If so, yay! Success! Rolling down the window at that third red light so we could get the full blast was the pièce de résistance.

Truth be told, I just don’t know what we would do without you. Revel in the silence? Have a coherent thought? Who knows what we might’ve gotten up to if it weren’t for you, generously sharing your music with the world.