Why I believe in music again

One of my random concerns about life is that my generation doesn't have anything to be remembered by. We're not WWII vets, we're not hippies fighting the system, we didn't invent disco. We're the fat generation that worries about people in turbans. We don't even have a defining musical genre. (Trust me ... I went to a 90s party once and the musical/costume planning was actually hard. I grew up in the 90s!) So I've been hopefully waiting for something to turn our generation around.

In my pensive, needless worrying, it was a shocking and pleasant surprise to fall head-over-heels for my newest girl crush. Meet Florence:

Her videos are interesting. She's different. She's immensely catchy. She's beautiful. She's my age. (So not only is she hope for my generation ... I want to be her.) She's incredibly talented. I mean i-n-c-r-e-d-i-b-l-y talented. I can appreciate all kinds of music as long as you can tell the musicians are completely into their work, but Florence is a different story.

She's even good, uncut, raw, in the park.

I'm obviously, unhealthily obsessed with her, but she gives me hope that music for my age is not completely dead. My mom thinks she sounds like a mix of women from the generations of yore. I mean she is reminiscent of 10,000 Maniacs, The Cranberries, Fiona Apple, etc. but all music is influenced by past music. Whoever Florence is channeling, she's doing it right.

And although I sometimes worry about that fact that I'm now in my mid-20s and I'm getting older, I'm going to ride the coattails of this generation if we're associated with this kind of music.

Why shopping before noon is never a good idea (... and why I'm the worst blogger ever)

This morning I woke up at 6:45 as usual. I groggily started the coffee, jumped in the shower and was getting ready to leave for work when my phone rang. The kid I work one-on-one with was not going to be at school today. Score! A bonus, bonus day off from work. (We had a snow day yesterday.) Well, I was already up and the coffee was already flowing through my veins, so no going back to bed for me.

After another cup of joe, the news cycle on TV was starting to repeat itself so I decided I should probably get out of the house and get my usual afternoon errands done. Bad. Idea.

My first clue should have been the radio. Every station I would normally listen to was only airing music that was popular the year I was born. Listen, there was very little good 80s music, there's no need to relive it now simply because time has technically made it retro. No more "classics" please!

I could live with the crappy music, but my second mistake was entering the super Wal-Mart. (I know ... never a good idea anyway.) I just needed a few toiletries and some Christmas cards, but as usual, it's impossible to get out of the store in a timely manner. I was quick to pick up some face wash and shaving cream, but then I had to enter the daunting special Christmas section.

First of all, it takes forever to get from one side of the mega-mart  to the other, but lets add in all the senior citizens doing their shopping. The aisles of Wal-Mart are huge. Three normal sized people should be able to walk side-by-side. Of course, that never happens. But lets talk about the fact that I got stuck behind two slow-moving women who could have been my great-grandmother. As I slowed down my pace, I looked around. EVERYONE IN THE STORE WAS THEIR AGE! Not a person my age in sight. Not a middle-aged person in sight. Only the fogies.

(Don't think I hate old people. I just hate getting stuck behind them - walking, driving, you name it. I'm on a mission. I'm not interested in spending more time than I have to in Wal-Mart.)

So after being stuck behind the snails, I finally made it to the Christmas section. Now don't let these aisles fool you. They're brightly colored and festive in the plastic way, but inside they are a black hole of everything wrong with Christmas. People bumping into each other, hovering over shoulders, piles of shit falling over.

Now, I am very picky about cards and I will take my time choosing the perfect one. I think they say a lot about you. But when there is an obese 90-year-old woman behind you, beeping in her scooter, it's hard to make the perfect pick. So if you get a Christmas card from me this year and you don't like it, blame the fat-ass in the Hover-Round.

(By the way ... if you haven't ever peeked at People of Wal-Mart, do yourself a favor. You can't help but laugh ... and wonder where the hell these people come from.)

I finally make a choice on the cards, run to the nearest checkout and what do I find? I'm stuck behind a stay-at-home mom stocking up on Christmas presents and trying to understand how to use the debit card machine. UGH! WHY? WHY? WHY?

Well if that wasn't enough, I made the mistake of going to Target to search for one more thing I couldn't find. It was just the same. Old people and moms standing in my way. I was done. It was time to come home.

So what have I learned here? Don't shop before noon. Most people who like to get in and out of the caverns of super-stores are at work or school. On that next rare occasion I am not working or sleeping in, I will certainly just stay home.


*On a side note, I have obviously been slacking on keeping up with my blog. I'm hoping this will hold me over for a few days, but inspire me to stay more on top of it. It is the Christmas season, I'm sure I will have plenty more to bitch about and hopefully a great deal more to be thankful about.