I hate to say it (not really), but now seems like a pretty sucky time to grow up. Which isn't to say that the 70's was an idyllic haven of stability. What with all the facial hair it certainly wasn't a high point of grooming in American History. Let's face it, the 70's were dirty - and not in a grungy cool hipster way, but in the way you're dirty after hanging out at the 7/11 bathroom (fyi, I hang out in the 7/11 bathroom all the time). Regardless, that time period seems like was an English rose garden compared to the ruckus of distraction and noise that I pay good money to make part of my life here in the Era of Over-Communication Without Saying Anything. (Note: Here comes the old lady part. You've been forewarned).

I never thought I would use the words "peaceful" and "my childhood" in the same breath, but I have been feeling kind of nostalgic for the lack of disruption to my thought process that I experienced in my formative years. I'm talking about a long time ago...pre-VCR (remember those?), pre-Answering Machine, shoot, I'll just say it, back when the eight track tape was ground-breaking technology (fine, I was 5 or 6, but still I remember being impressed). If I wanted to change the channel on the television set, I had to stand up, pick up the pliers, and with trained skill adjust a couple of notches. It required strength and courage, and I still didn't know that The Hulk or Kermit were green. Technology required heavy lifting and was for rich and smart people.

I grew up borderline ghetto (among other things), but life happened in real time. Divorce, alcoholism, sadness happened in front of you, there were no degrees of separation. If you didn't have an imagination to retreat to, you were screwed. You either created a fantasy world with yourMarie Osmond Barbie, or GI Joe, or whatever you used to work out your gender identity, or you sat there and just watched life unravel like a bed of flowers in a hail storm (who said nature was gentle or kind?).

And then came boys and the 80's and the media still seemed hopeful. Sure my home life was chaotic with the occasional hilarious moment, but out there there was this romantic optimism and excitement and things happening like MTV and geometric shapes. I woke up in the morning to the a radio station that everyone listened to hear this or this, or this, or, unfortunately, maybe this and I thought, OK, things aren't that great but it has be worth it to grow up and be part of American society.

I just wonder if now a12-year-old or 13-year-old wakes up in the morning, and hopes to be part of the world out there. Or just would rather live in his iPod/Mobile Device/Social Networking/FB Land....

I know I do.

Just for today, I feel nostalgic.

This whole Osama-Head-On-A-Stake Moment (I'll take a CGI retouch on a shot from Apocalypse Now) has left me feeling like the last unbitten in a zombie/vampire. Don't get me wrong, I'm still a hater. I reserve the right to openly judge and bond with others against a fellow enemy.But I guard the depths of pain whose sources still seem mysterious. Without mysticism one piece of new information can dislodge a boulder and before you know it the levy of heartbreak and disappointment has broken open and you're celebrating a dead guy half-way around the world. (I think...someone get me a map).

Sublimation. Having spent most of my life feeling asunder, I would love to believe that I'm just one CIA operation from living among the chosen people, but I didn't spend a good used Audi in therapy to believe that neglect, pain, suffering, and the squelching of all my girlish passions didn't at the very least teach me to unplug from the matrix, tap into the force, whatever metaphor works best before you've had your coffee.

Just for today, I'm totally creeped out by the celebrating of Osama's death.