oh, captain. who is your captain?

I wonder if our generation is a rarity.  Not in that we have more education, greater technology, or more cultural knowledge; but we have this incomparable ability to completely spill the remnants of our souls with no facial expression whatsoever.  Girls, Do you remember diaries with locks on them that you purchased in hopes you could write your biggest crushes name across the pages where no one would find out?  Do you remember when “secrets” were followed with “but don’t tell anyone- you’re the only one that knows”? —-Now, the same market that indulged in $5 locked diaries are logging into facebook from their smartphones to blurt out all of the “secrets” that everyone already knows.  

Don’t get me wrong.  This isn’t something deeply profound and I absolutely know that.  But I guess I just haven’t really sat and pondered it.  In a world where we don’t want anyone to steal our favorite “djs” mix of his favorite “djs” sample of his favorite musicians music, we are supporting these collaborations between toddlers and media.  Don’t expect your children to learn “originality” from the media reading from a script provided by a press release leaked from a scheming angsty businessman.  Turn off the television.  Unplug the wifi.  Disengage the smart phone “family plan.”  Plug in your turntable.  Get a library card.  And tell them some stories about you.

There are few things I regret in life.  Actually, there is just one.  (Regrets, besides a few, are simply a waste of time as far as I’m concerned.)  But this particular regrets require a continuous thought process and educational return.  I deeply regret not asking my grandfather to tell me about his life.  I regret not turning off the television and taking off my head phones and listening.  Of course, at the time, that would have sounded repulsively lame and unworthy of a second thought.  But when was the last time you could recall a play-by-play of a story your parents told you better than you could recall a Q&A segment from the latest Rolling Stone?

I have to tell you something… Lana Del Rey isn’t real.  Her responses…her stories… you still know nothing about the soul behind those lips and that voice.  But if you put down the magazine, exited tumblr, turned off the Skrillex album, stopped spilling your guts, and started paying attention to the world around you- maybe you’d find some truth in the unoriginality.  or maybe you’d rather just enjoy the beauty in the silence.

Regardless- I challenge you to revisit the simple things.  Write on paper.  Listen to your parents records.  Look through your parents yearbook.  Better yet- ASK THEM.  Ask them to tell you stories.  You won’t have that forever.  And you’ll miss it when it’s gone. 

(yes, I know me spilling my guts on tumblr targets me as a hypocrite.  however, my father is 12 hours away and my mother is fast asleep 30 minutes away.  i have spoke to them both for extensive periods of time this week though. and i just purchased 2 second-hand records. and my journal and a book are always with me.)