via GIPHY
Meghan Daum, a youngster still in her 40s, writing in The Guardian about the difference between her generation of feminists and those who are now in their 20s, makes a point that relates to everyone old enough to be not-young today:
The world has changed so much between my time and theirs that someone just 10 years younger might as well belong to a different geological epoch. To a young person, someone like me is not so much an elder as an extinction. Is it any wonder, then, that older generations’ contributions to the conversation are, at best, a kind of verbal meteor shower, the flickering, nattering remains of planets that haven’t existed for eons?And I'm a generation older than she is, so how do you think I feel?
So this is where I find myself. Amid my exasperation and confusion, I have wandered into a devastating but oddly beautiful revelation: my generation will be the last to have known the world in its analog form. As a result, we’ve grown old before actually getting old. We’ve become dinosaurs before we’re even 50.
I remember how my grandparents, born well before 1900, were completely unimpressed, and often disgusted, by the reckless speed and dangerous follies of the go-go Sixties.
I feel the same way about the world we live in now - this hellscape, as it is aptly termed - only much more so.
So much so, in fact, that nowadays I more often than not decide, with a sigh of resignation, not to blog about things I deplore - because, well, why waste my meteors on an indifferent planet?
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