I’m 9, she’s 13; both of us are drooling over Luke Perry as Dylan McKay on 90210. He drives a Porsche, lives without the supervision of his parents and manages to positively nail that teenage angst thing. “Marry me, Dylan!”
I’m 32, she’s 37 and both of us are confounded to learn that Luke Perry is Mr. Andrews. He plays a dad . . with wrinkles. . . and a 17 year old son named Archie. . . and also his name is, Fred. Still dreamy, but the angst has turned all adulty and it’s just not the same. “Do my taxes, Mr. Andrews?”
For those of you not yet tuning into Riverdale. . . seriously?
When the eff?!
It seems like such a simple thing. Sixty seconds form a minute, 60 minutes form an hour, and 24 hours form a day . . .365 days pass, and you’ve got yourself a year. . . but then thirty of those years pass, and you start asking some serious questions like. . . “how?” and “when?” and “why, though?”
How did I get a mortgage, and who thought this was a good idea!?
We seem to be struggling with the transition into adulthood because it looks so different from what we thought it was. Where's the freedom we fantasized about?!? The being able to do whatever we wanted?! Turns out those endeavours have to be financed, somehow. Right.
The term “adulting” is now an accepted and commonly used phrase in our vocabulary, representative of our struggle in leading what we always thought was an “adulty” life. Also, is “adulty” a word, asking for a friend.. . .
We’ve thought about it. We’ve really thought about it. And we agree. This whole growing up thing is some weird-ass business.
The rapid but seemingly natural advancement of technology:
Yes, we grew up knowing the pain of rewinding a VHS, the impossibility of finding a song on a two sided tape, not to mention the eventual honky-tonk-hankering that was connecting to dial up.
But then all of the sudden there was an iPhone, high speed internet for all and instant access to music for the masses. The exponential advancement of technology has placed our generation, in particular, in this strange time vs aging continuum. This often leaves us in the position of being better at technology than our boss, “right click. . . RIGHT CLICK!” and relatively speaking, an ignorant neanderthal compared to most five year olds operating an iPhone. “How’d you take a picture of the screen?!”
From Hair Bands, to Boy Bands, to Justin Bieber.
Mostly we’re confused because we like Justin Bieber. Secondarily, we’re concerned because we’re not sure how Jon Bon Jovi would feel about this. We’re not confident if we’re alone here, but we’re consistently obsessed with knowing what the next best song is. This all seems completely normal until Lecina rolls in to work at a non-profit, faith-based-facility, with “Bitch Better Have my Money” blaring on her stereo. “I wonder if I’ll still rap in my car when I'’m 75? God I hope so.”
The day we saw leg warmers again. . .
It happened, it finally happened. We pick up the phone, and shamelessly ask: “hey mom, did you throw away my leg warmers?” Turns out our parents weren’t making shit up when they consistently told us “I used to have a pair of shoes just like that!” Being in the mall is both a trip down memory lane, and a reminder that we have generationeded ourselves through a cycle of fashion. “…Eff”
Everyone is getting pregnant. . . on purpose.
Lecina is still struggling with the fact that her sister has a baby gestating in her stomach. . . uterus, whatever. Libertee is still struggling with the fact that it's definitely not just gas. It was like a second ago that we were arguing over a pair of pants Libertee stole from Lecina. Wait, that was last week. Libertee give those back.
Seriously, give them back! I’m telling mom.