Logan's Run Generation

I've finally figured it out: We're the Logan's Run generation. Remember that cheesy 70s movie, where everyone over 30 got knocked off by the sandmen? Well, that's us. See, there's nobody there really, to knock us off, but we just don't mature much, over, say 16? Our parents just sort of got on with it. Us? We got so many choices--we don't know what to do with ourselves. Some of us go around still, in baggy jeans. Some go around with tight jeans. No matter which way you look at it, we're still running around like a bunch of teenagers.
I remember the first time I saw Desperate Housewives. It was one of the first times they saw showed it here in Denmark, and I didn't know what it was I was watching. I described it to a friend as, "it was a show with a bunch of old people running around like teenagers." Little did I know that this show was reflecting a dementia-at-large.
Think about it: Marriage doesn't have the same financial connotations for many of us. Sure, we'd be financially more secure shacking up with someone else, but hey, we could still make ends meet alone...
Yeah, we are the Logan's Run generation. Except, it ain't the sandman that's after us--it's our conscience telling us that no matter how old we grow, we're still operation on a system that's at least a decade too old.
Sure we go through the motions of adulthood. We have to. But in the end, we're still a bunch of kids.
Tonight I went over to V's house. She invited my son and myself over to carve pumpkins. I should have known something was up when she said to bring a bottle of wine. She told me she quit smoking two days ago, so I figured that once the wine got pouring...
Lo and behold it ended up being a house full of single parents and children. I wasn't too keen at first. You know me, control freak numero uno. But anyway, I let loose and ended up having a great time with some great folks. My son even did not end up asking me to go home after two minutes.
Oh hell. V is talking about moving back to New York. She's a New Yorker, born and bred and is convinced this Copenhagen life is jipping her. She's convinced life will be more worth living in the big old apple. I'll miss her. That's all I can say. There's nothing better than having a seasoned New Yorker at hand, who, well, you know, get's it.
farvel,
the lab