Why does my heart bleed for teenagers when I never had any of my own? I try to give them (probably misguided) advice – see my reply to a young girl’s comment. I know: wisdom from the woman known as Karaoke Konnection on YouTube. It’s laughable.
Then, please tell me if it’s misguided. Because I really need to know. It’s profoundly, remarkably, achingly important to me that my words never damage these young people. I want them to excel and to thrive and to keep Humanity alive!
More than anything…
I’m 54, and I feel like you’re telling my story. I know it feels like your father has betrayed all of you (because he did) and everything that once seemed so certain now seems terribly uncertain. And you don’t even get to be mad because you’re being such a little adult, keeping up your end of the deal, while the adults are abandoning their roles as if they never existed in the first place. I’m so sorry that the pressure has fallen on you during this time. My only advice for all of you teenagers who are hurting now is: Please never bury the real and unique you that burns inside. You know your dreams and your passions and your heart in a way no other person does. Your circumstances will change frequently throughout your life, but your essence, your personhood, won’t. Please don’t EVER bury yourselves so much in your efforts to make others happy that you extinguish the beautiful flame that burns in each one of you❣️
P.S. Tell your parents a lady older than them said so‼️
My friend Robi told me I had been using the term “Millennial” incorrectly all this time.
I thought it meant “people born after the Millenium,” aka: anyone 21 and under.
Though Robi couldn’t tell me what a Millennial actually is (”older” was his one-word explanation), could you save me the effort of having to go back and swap out “Millenials” for “teenagers” and just retrofit all of my comments about them in your brains?
And could someone do me a solid and let me know what people born after 2000 are called?
I make a big enough ass out of myself without “Semantics issues” increasing my public humiliation.
Thank you in advance❣️
[Thank you Sigmund for the use of your photograph].❤️
Oh, I may look like a Republican senator’s wife. I’ll grant you that.
But appearances can be deceiving, can’t they?
Yes, it’s true: I’m a tall, skinny white chick.
But I’m a FREAK. In the absolute Best Way Possible.
Most men are intimidated and terrified by a Sexually Adventurous Woman. Well, I’m the version of that woman who will send you running for your life, in a raining puddle of little boy tears, frantically searching for your mama.
I can even BE your mama if you want or need me to.
I can be your teacher. I can be your student. I can be the blonde cheerleader you never got to sleep with but used to jerk off thinking about. I can be the fucking blue-haired organist at your Southern Baptist church.
I’ll call you Daddy and let you call me by the name of your teenaged daughter’s best friend.
(Tammy, am I right?)
And we haven’t even started on my bucket list of fantasies yet.
I’m getting a little tired of the attitude I feel coming from some younger people today on social media. There seems to be a general dismissal of the comments and opinions of the over-25 set, particularly on YouTube (don’t get upset, Facebook friends!). One woman in her 40s or thereabouts made an enthusiastic comment about a music video, and some snarky girls made fun of her and referred to her as “Mom.” I’d like to remind similar-minded young women that GenEx women (those born between 1965 and ?), though older, still have dreams and passions; feelings, hopes, and fears.
We also grew up during a time that made us badasses.
We were bullied when the problem wasn’t even acknowledged and sexually molested when there wasn’t a word for it. We’ve been “sexually harassed” in the workplace for centuries, usually making excuses for the inappropriate behavior ourselves, reluctant to cause problems for our bosses (because we were raised to be “nice”). We’ve had our cars break down when we were alone in the dark with no mobile phones – and nothing to protect us but our wits – not just once but multiple times. We were date-raped before there was a word for that, too. I’m sure coming out as a non-heterosexual was scary and lonely and terrifying. When we miscarried, no one ever talked about it and the “embryos” we lost didn’t “count.” We surely didn’t get to memorialize them in any significant way. We paved the way for you with our own tears, traumas and stories. So if I ask you to treat us with a little respect – maybe occasionally ask for our opinions – will I be accused of being a “Karen?”