Above: Me and college friends.
I had one of those days when the past collides unexpectedly with the present. You never know when that will happen.
One of the weird things about being in this odd middle phase is you think you’re still young, yet there are ties to the past that creep up and make you feel your age. Today it was hearing a name from the long distant past and watching “Singles.”
If you don’t remember that movie, “Singles” was one of those films, like “Reality Bites,” that were supposed to define my generation. Seattle, grunge and all that. To be honest, I was too young when it came out to “get it” but I always loved the soundtrack and particularly “Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns.” By a band whose lead singer actually died years before the movie actually even came out – which is terribly tragic.
I do feel a kinship with the millennials, in that I think there are some parallels with Gen X. I mean, we didn’t clean up the environment like we wanted to, but I do think we were non-conformist in some ways. I like “Girls” and relate to the bohemians on that show, even if I’m too insecure about money to live that kind of life. I think you usually have to come from money to be able to reject it so adamantly, and I certainly did not.
Anyway, it seems like both a million years and thirty minutes ago that I listened to “Chloe Dancer/Crown of Thorns” in the sorority house (how conformist), laced up my faux Doc Martens (I was too poor for the real ones), meticulously coiffed my hair and applied my Mac beige lipstick while getting ready for a night out. Sidenote: why did we pay so much attention to our hair and makeup when we were basically dressed in denim tuxedos and rags? Although our skin tone was the bomb, when we didn’t break out.
I was so very broke in college and it was a real source of insecurity but that was probably the best place and time to be broke.
Anyway, now I am less broke, more old and married with kids. My husband’s college had a reunion recently and apparently a huge source of sadness among the men was that the beautiful girls they had gone to school with weren’t young any more. Like, these tough guys were sad to think about the passage of time and nothing symbolized that more that the hot girls with three or four kids and crow’s feet. I get it. I do.
Sometimes, there’s nothing I want to be more than the girl with the faux Docs. But I remember, she wasn’t as happy as I am now. She was so insecure.
Do you think about the passage of time? Or do you rarely look back, thankful it is behind you?