But I’m kinda wondering what tomorrow’s stories will be.
As I’m typing this, I’m watching the teenage girls next door walk out in killer thigh-high boots and into their friend’s shiny BMW; and for some reason, it sorta bums me out. And not even because their stuff is way cooler than our shoulder pads and spiral perms ever could have attempted to be. Well, maybe a little. But mainly and honestly, as someone who leisurely matured in the 80s, I can’t imagine what it would be like to grow up fast today. So much stuff pressure. So much readily available information. So many images to consume and emulate. So much, so early. My grandparents said the same thing about me. But this feels different. Maybe just because I’m on the other side of it. But I don’t know, still, everything just seems more intense now, childhood included. And that’s just sad.
I think the sadness stems from the fact that I feel like, in many ways, I’m still growing up, learning things, experiencing things for the first time. Even with all the goofiness and missteps, I think I’m glad I had the opportunity to be completely clueless and mess up and grow up. With time. I get the feeling that these “kids today” won’t have that same experience. I hope that’s just the naiveté talking.