LOOK. I am trying. I am really, really trying. And for those of you who know me, and those who don't, I will declare it (again) now: when I try, I TRY HARD.
I am trying with all my might, determination, will power and perseverance to like this HBO / pop culture phenomenon known as Girls and ... it's just not happening.
I can't relate to the Girls. I can't come to care about these Girls. I can't understand Girls.
Is it because Lena Dunham's tattoos are so ugly I can't concentrate on anything else? Is it because the Girls are so annoying and self indulgent and not very nice and living in subsidized la-la-land? Is it because I only laugh on the inside maybe, maybe once per episode? Is it because I can't see myself being one of these Girls?
I don't know! I don't know why I care! It's just a TV show for crying out loud. But is it? Is it just that? Obviously I don't think so. For some peculiar reason Girls has become a proper bellwhether to what's what in the popular culture world for me. If I say I don't like this show, I feel I am basically flying my white flag of in- the- knowness.
I am declaring that I'm (gasp) old. It's depressing. Not as depressing as admitting to not being able to hear the difference between Mumford & Sons and the Lumineers, but almost. Almost. Sort of as depressing as taking TV recommendations from your Mom (but guys, seriously, Scandal is an awesome show). Kind of as depressing as bowing out of 11:45pm karaoke invitations because you'd just rather go home to bed, even though there is no one else in said bed. Maybe the same depressing as buying a wrist brace, which thankfully was not located in the same aisle as the Depends.*
Sigh.
What of this? What am I to do with this?
I can deal with things passing me by. I'm completely fine with not being able to "get" everything. But I thought technology was my thing, my 'I'm old so please don't explain to me what a pixel is but kindly tell me everytime I ask and don't make me feel dumb'. I can also absolutely deal with getting older, but I don't want to become that person. That person who poo-poos everything new and seemingly hip because it's new and hip. That person who looks at, say, a toaster and declares, in perfect Maggie Smith "whatever would you use that for?". I mean, really, shoot me now.
Maybe I'm clinging. Am I clinging too hard to this bizarre self - imposed notion that in order to stay cool, hip, relevant and young I also need to keep on top of what's the what with "the kids these days"? Let's be honest. I've never been really hip. I really like listening to Easy Rock. I'm not all together cool either. Have you seen my closet? I need a cardigan intervention! Young? Nah, not quite. At 42, even if you don't believe me, I am 42 and thus no longer young. Face it. At 42 you're just not. Now, am I relevant? Well, that's not for me to say. I think I do my best to keep aware of the what's what and formulate my own opinions about them. I think this is maybe a better strategy than just riding the wave of what's cool because it's hot at the moment. It's better than hanging on to things that logically must pass you by because it's just not your time for them anymore. Mmm. I see. This is how it works then, is it? My GirlsPilgrimage has decidedly led me to that confident place where you like what you like and say what you say and you simply don't care what this means or says about you.
Damn you, Girls!
*These items have been listed for purely illustrative purposes. Any likeness to the author of said post is purely coincidental and, of course, completely true.
No comments:
Post a Comment