Real Adventure Cannot Be Found At DisneyLand

So I went to Victoria, British Columbia, Canada. And, if after reading the last post you cannot figure out whether I enjoyed it or not, um, well, er, ok. My company was just purchased by cars.com this past week. That's a major thing in the world of automotive. Also, a major thing in the world of JadedTLC.

I am trying to study for my Google exam, and not doing a very good job at it (obviously). This entails listening to one of the most annoying female voice lecturers on the web. (Noticeably, I have not been web lectured much or often, but interestingly enough, I still know this.)

Harry Potter is coming out soon. The new book, that is. And so I have that and the new Charlie and the Chocolate Factory to look forward to in July. I just recently bought (in Canada) and read (in Canada and Washington state) the book Generation X: Tales For An Accelerated Culture and absolutely loved the writing. I have been searching for the future Faulkners and until this year, had not found any. Now I read a regular blog filled with Faulknerisms, even from someone who was not familiar with his writing. I also started writing that way. A way I had worshipped for years (as an English Writing and Rhetoric major we do have to study literature too). I had been so intimidated by writing, by the blank page, that I became blocked. That and some major burnage (see: being hurt repeatedly to the point of shutting down emotionally) had finally been my undoing. As a self-proclaimed writer, I was not living my life.

Anyway, enough random backstory. This must bore you. Of course, there may not be many "you's" to worry about, but -- whatever.

So I was reading that book, Generation X, and several things struck me. One was this though and kinda related to my friend's blog:

Squires: The most common X generation subgroup and the only subgroup given to breeding. Squires exist almost exclusively in couples and are recognizeable by their frantic attempts to recreate a semblance of Eisenhower-era plenitude in their daily lives ni the face of exorbitant housing prices and two-job life-styles. Squires tend to be continually exhuasted from their voraciously acquisitve pursuit of furniture and knickknacks. (135)

And then I was thinking about it. That's why I'm not married. Finding love isn't any more difficult this year as it was ten years ago. But finding what our grandparents had: a generation where divorce was rare and detrimental to your status; a generation of haves and havenots, but havenots had a chance to become hads; education was superior to dropping out of high school at age sixteen and setting up shop in your garage; sex was the process by which we procreate; destiny was a three-bedroom ranch-style house with one and a half baths, complete with full garage and a yard (imagine that Los Angelians -- A YARD!); wife makes pies and babies, husband works nine to five, sometimes six, but dinner is always on the table and steaming; Christmas was more about the food less about the presents; love (dare i say the word) wasn't just a four-letter-word tossed around on TVs and used synonymously with anal/oral/vaginal sex; gay men wore pink shirts -- but no one talked out loud about it; you were who you were, and that was easy to figure out (or apparently so). Ahh, to reminisce about a time I didn't even live in. That's true historical time travelling. They had just as many wars and problems, don't get me wrong, but their fears for nuclear rain were unillustrated, while ours for terrorist bombings are as real as watching in HDTV on projection televisions a reality show we weren't going to win a prize from. As that day opened, and as London's day crashed, there was real ash raining down from the sky and real casualties -- the threat was less threat more guaranteed.

From the sadness aching within, I ponder the process by which values disintegrated. That a well-vaccinated global village became more dangerous than a small hut on the side of a river, even as typhoid fever was raging through its citizens. Disaster is in the eye of the beholder, that's for sure, and even as I type these lines, I defy fear. Let your hatred be known; it's easier to deal with in the open. Hatred only begets more hatred. You're bitterness will never be satisfied, and so I defy you and your actions of anger, and I even go so far as loving you and praying to GOD, not Allah or some jackedupGodwhoDemandsUltimateSacrifice. I am praying to the Creator of all things, and they are all good, that you may see within you, that fear is never as satisfactory as knowledge, that hatred is never as serene as joy, and that Love does make the world go 'round. Try it for once.