Out with the new: In with the old

Beau came over last weekend and we ended up doing some serious damage in and around Atlanta. We began the night hanging around my house, imbibing and listening to music. We played everything from our high school years as loud as we could on my stereo without sending DVDs and CDs flying around the room. Chelsea was in New York City on business so we got to raise hell.

I remember wearing a Toad the Wet Sprocket shirt for the majority of my senior year. I had long hair and wore my hair over a bandana. I remember an intense feeling of empowerment: the time was ours, we were young, the world was about to change. The films, the music, the times, the world, was ours.

It was a time of creativity. A time when an entire generation was coming-of-age and preparing themselves to inherit the earth.

Somewhere we lost it. Maybe we lost our leader. Maybe we traded in our indivuality for careers or something else. I don't know. Thinking of it is depressing.

An old friend of mine used to say "Nostalgia is for weenies." I think it is orientating.