Scatty thoughts on age and youth

Dear diary,

I’m frustrated by divisions and groupings. To speak of all X as blank; all else as otherwise… Gals and dolls… I favor nuance.

Are adults supposed to be leaders? I can’t get you anywhere. Unless you want to wind up in this ditch with me.

When you’re young, you tend to have more energy than anyone who is twice your age. But what you choose to do with that energy…

Only old people care about consequences… Old in mind, I mean. (For twentysomethings are often exceeding cantankerous.)

Ageism… Sometimes it’s a plus, sometimes a minus – having been around the block.

We’re all fledglings, compared to Nosferatu. And, compared to Z bosons, we’re all Methuselah.

How people become the way they are… What’s your story?

Those who’ve had bad luck or been mistreated might descend into prudence: they might think that thus they’ll avoid the pitfalls of the past.

I think it’s better to throw caution to the wind: always act according to instinct. Even when it’s the wrong thing to do.

Youth culture. What culture. Here are a few extremely fun and interesting facts from an encyclopedia (I like all the names):

YM got its start as two magazines in the 1930s—Compact, which was aimed at older teens, and Calling All Girls, which pioneered the signature embarrassing-moments column, “Say Anything.” By the late ’60s, the publications merged into Young Miss, a small digest-sized mag. The 1980s saw an expansion to regular dimensions on glossy print, and several years later, still another title change—this time to Young & Modern. The final title appeared in 2000: Your Magazine (although it would be known most familiarly by its acronym). Two years later, editor-in-chief Christina Kelly announced that the magazine would no longer run articles about dieting. YM ceased publication in 2004; patrons received Teen Vogue subscriptions in replacement.

I have no comment on this.

Imagine the birthplace of the pejorative. It’s funny how the word “old” sounds dowdy, but “ancient” has a reverential ring. Old folks. The ancient mariner. Here in postmodernity, age is far more than just a number. I myself am now exactly seven years older than Jesus was when he cried God, why hast Thou forsaken me! then gave up the ghost and came to visit America.

If I’ve harped too much on age today, blame our celebrity culture. Everyone here has a silky smooth complexion.