Maybe I'm just an autistic shut-in (I absolutely am) but the concept of going out on the town never seemed like a pleasant concept to me. Then again I am always racked with the fear of missing out - what if I would actually enjoy going out and I'm wasting my twenties in my desolate room with no lights, no music, just anger? I'm 27 and it scares me to see that number written out, because I feel like I'm already over the hill by the absurdly youth-obsessed internet culture standards. I'm an entire presidential term past being on Brandon Boyd's threshold of spontaneous combustion. I still don't know what my life is about, and I am almost certain I'm not going to live long enough to find out, for myriad reasons personal and global.
All that aside, the culture and cottage industry behind nostalgia pandering is disturbingly powerful. WWWY was met with equal parts adulation and derision, and great schadenfreude when the first day was cancelled. I think it's impossible to divorce yourself from nostalgia entirely, but it's important to let it refract through the lens of aging. That being said, I have an irrational disdain for culture made after approximately 2017, because I started feeling disconnected from the zeitgeist already as people younger than me started being the dominant figures of artistic expression. My sweet spot has always been about 20 years prior to the current year for music.
Anyway this is your blog, not mine, so I'll reign in my existential whinging. But maybe get some support insoles for your back.
Maybe I'm just an autistic shut-in (I absolutely am) but the concept of going out on the town never seemed like a pleasant concept to me. Then again I am always racked with the fear of missing out - what if I would actually enjoy going out and I'm wasting my twenties in my desolate room with no lights, no music, just anger? I'm 27 and it scares me to see that number written out, because I feel like I'm already over the hill by the absurdly youth-obsessed internet culture standards. I'm an entire presidential term past being on Brandon Boyd's threshold of spontaneous combustion. I still don't know what my life is about, and I am almost certain I'm not going to live long enough to find out, for myriad reasons personal and global.
All that aside, the culture and cottage industry behind nostalgia pandering is disturbingly powerful. WWWY was met with equal parts adulation and derision, and great schadenfreude when the first day was cancelled. I think it's impossible to divorce yourself from nostalgia entirely, but it's important to let it refract through the lens of aging. That being said, I have an irrational disdain for culture made after approximately 2017, because I started feeling disconnected from the zeitgeist already as people younger than me started being the dominant figures of artistic expression. My sweet spot has always been about 20 years prior to the current year for music.
Anyway this is your blog, not mine, so I'll reign in my existential whinging. But maybe get some support insoles for your back.
Support insoles... good idea.