Wednesday, March 14, 2012
Don't even get me started on Facebook
It's no wonder no strangers meet romantically on trains or flirtingly share jokes at work. When was the last time someone stared at you while you were in a public place and you didn't squint to see if you recognized them from your last restraining order issued before checking between your teeth for an embarrassingly rogue piece of spinach from your breakfast croissant? Oh, I mean before you predialed 911 on your cellphone convincing yourself that if someone's showing interest in you they're at very least matching the tones of your skin to the frock they're feverishly trying to complete on a sewing machine at home? Today it seems we live in such fear of shortcomings, be they our's or someone else's, that meeting a stranger can only induce anxiety, and I remember a time when it wasn't like that, and have observed it being erased more and more thoroughly with each passing generation.
When I was a kid, I had NO imaginary or real friends named Amber, so no alert was necessary, if we went missing it was because we'd clearly had a disagreement, and had run away for the umpteenth time. My Mom was worried at first, but by the time I was seven her only real concern was that I get home and get over whatever drama had led to this current uprising. Family and neighbors may have been involved in the search, but there was, in her own words, 'no need to bring any kind of government agency into our family problems'.
As a middle age person, I think I know what I'm talking about since I believe I'm entitled to. Now surrounded by friends into their 50's and 60's, it's been very important for me to reach an age where age can validate my wisdom. As a fortysomething year old guy, I can tell you the last place you'll find validation for your wisdom is when you're surrounded by people in their 50's and 60's. I have run into problems for appointing myself wise for starters, then middle aged, being so young myself. I find the saying that 'sixty is the new forty' to be as believable as the Hogwarts Academy or the Twilight Series. Excuse me? I don't have any one hundred and twenty year old friends, aquaintances, or chat room buddies. Funny, in the chat room's, all my friends are blonde, tall, with swimmer's builds but for some legendary massive appendage that adds too many seconds to their 100 meter time to qualify them for the olympics, according to them. Apparently I really don't have to jump to Rowling to find something less than credible in my life to compare realism.
Maybe I have some 120 year old friends after all, I've heard Advil makes it easy to type with arthritis. So, maybe I've digressed into babble, a sure sign that middle age is where I now dwell. But in my experience, if you have something important to say or an important story to tell, dim the lights, set the mood, and make sure that what you are going to say is understood with a mix of forethought, ramblings, and a preamble of sorts.