I don’t think of myself as an older person, usually.
My life still holds a mystery for the future. Sure, I’m getting ready to graduate with a couple degrees, but who knows if I’ll actually ever use them.
For all I know, my destiny could be to wait tables forever.
Gee, I really hope not.
My circle of friends is older than I, as well. Some of them are technically old enough to be my parents. I’m easily the baby in the group by at least a decade.
It’s not awkward for me to hang out with more mature adults, although I use the term mature loosely. Honestly, I find the majority of people my age quite annoying.
I mean, they listen to some girl with a dollar sign in her name.
The dollar sign is not a letter. Just sayin’.
I often hear my friends talking about how “things were in the old days,” and I thought I understood somewhat, too. I mean, I can remember when cell phones weren’t attached to everyone’s hips. I can easily recall the first time the concepts of Internet and e-mail were explained to me. I remember when a movie night could be ruined by the “Honey, I Shrunk the Kids” VHS getting tangled inside the VCR.
Today’s youth has the assumption that it was always possible to solve an argument by pulling a cell phone out of your pocket and Google-ing the answer.
“It was N*Sync that sang ‘Tearin’ Up My Heart!’ Look it up!”
But, for the first time last week, I felt genuinely old and outdated.
While digging through an old book bag stuffed with high school photos, papers, agendas and awards, I discovered something I had not seen in a long time.
Honestly, I had sort of forgotten about its existence.
A roll of film.
I turned it over in my palm, wondering out loud over what mysterious events it may have recorded.
Was it the time my friends and I stripped the Victoria’s Secret mannequins at the mall? Or maybe it served as further evidence of our punk days in middle school. Maybe, just maybe, it was the roll of film that captured some graduation memories, or the two-person parade we created down the road by my house complete with a marching French horn.
I had to know.
So, we piled in my Civic and sped off to the nearest Walmart, practically jogging to the photo center in the back of the store.
Upon arrival, I revealed my long lost treasured item to the attendant, making a joke about its being pre-historic.
But to my shock, it was even more ancient than I had realized.
They couldn’t develop it.
Film could not be developed on site! It had to be shipped to the other side of the country, where one of the few processing labs remained. It would be pricey and take 2-3 weeks.
My surprise quickly turned to embarrassment, then anger.
How is this possible? I felt like my Grandmother after she was informed her TV would not work solely with an antenna, or when I explained that it was now socially inappropriate to use certain terms in her vocabulary.
The world and its technology have changed so drastically, even in my 22 years. It won’t be long before others will be giggling at my remarks just as I do with my grandmother’s.
What other common items will become outdated in the next couple decades? Books are already tinkering on demise – nearly everyone has some type of Kindle.
And newspapers? Well, let’s not even discuss that. It’s a touchy subject.
What about cars? Will we fly around on our own personal space-Age aerocars?
Here’s some food for thought. I read that “The Jetsons” was supposedly taking place in the utopian future of 2062.
Umm, I’m possibly going to be around in 2062. I’ll be 73-years-old.
The program shows characters using push-button appliances, digital diaries and robotic contraptions. I don’t think it’s really too far off.
Well, except for one thing.
Jane is the “homemaker.” That’s definitely not going to still be true by then.