Her Little Diane Keaton Hat

 There was an 80something woman behind me at this coffee shop. She was drinking an orange juice and wearing a pale blue button-up, circular glasses, and a Diane Keaton hat. I adored the whole image. I love seeing women enjoying themselves alone. "I won't bother her, but when she gets up to leave, I will pay her a compliment," I thought. I started into my B_rbie revisions and got tunnel vision, like I so often do. Just popped my head up for air, and the woman is gone. I'm sending her the message telepathically. I wish I hasn't missed my chance.

Last month I was here writing, morning after the Taylor Swift concert. I was wearing my t-shirt, a proud ambassador for the greatest cultural event of my lifetime. A man, 70s, approached me asking if I went to the concert. I said I did, and he decided to spend several minutes telling me she bought a house in his area on the east coast. Of course I know this. I would wager there's not a single thing that man could say about Taylor Swift I didn't already know. And I felt myself getting angry. Why did he assume he could teach me when I was the one in the literal t-shirt of our subject? He made a jab at her dating history, and I had to ask myself if it was worth spending five more minutes of my life educating a stranger who did not respect me. (Decided, no.) He then wanted to talk about Lizzo's assault allegations, which also bothered me. I said the situation seemed very complicated. He scoffed that she is an abuser. And maybe she is. But my generation is far more comfortable with complexity, and sometimes that's wrongfully considered as ignorance. In actuality, I care so so much. So much more than that man. I care so deeply that these issues rattle me to my core. I spend lots of time sussing through the difficult webs, questioning the narratives and where they're from and who would want them projected and when and why.

I try to see it differently in hindsight. At least that man knows who Lizzo is. Maybe that's what it was all about. Him presenting to me, "I know your world too!"

Last night I had a brand new experience. I went to a friend's comedy show expecting it to be a semi-sparse attendance of pals. But when Puhg and I got to the lobby, we found ourselves in a huge crowd of buzzing 20somethings. Fans, it turns out, of my contemporaries. I was happy to see it and also have never felt more ancient. I'm jealous of how the world treats Gen Z. I felt so hated for my entire post-college decade. The butt of endless jokes and poor and desperately smiling through it all. Don't complain or you'll be made fun of, you'll seem like "bad energy," you may even be let go--you are expendable beyond your wildest dreams. I still feel that way. Millennials are losers with too much debt and too few houses. Be careful!