Your entry, or something like it

Well, I may have said to you that I haven’t updated because I had company in town.
The real reason is that I can’t stop loading and reloading this damn site.
For those of you out of the loop, or in the loop, or if I’ve told you before and forgotten and you’re about to hear it again, this site is a constantly updating collection of images — specifically, the last 200 to be posted on LiveJournal.
And I cannot stop looking at it.
It is absolutely the most interesting thing in the world to me.
Because it’s absolutely a cross-section in time. And it has no context.
A picture of someone you see could be the person who just updated about their day at school. Or it could be the person who updated’s worst enemy. Or it could be someone who just died that a friend posted as a memorial.
People scan in their report cards, upload pictures from their latest parties, or simply the silly-image-from-the-web-du-jour like Tara Reid’s breast or something.
Anyway, I came across this image…

…which, in turn, belongs to a LiveJournal that my better judgment has told me not to post, but an excerpt of which, you can view here.
It terrified me.
It was a terrifying glimpse into the future that I had never come up with.
Let’s say just for a second that the internet has only been mainstream for a good five years.
Yes, yes, I know, your grandfather invented the internet, and a disk drive saved you from a pack of wolves and raised you as its own. Just listen.
Livejournal itself has only been around since 1999, and web design has only consisted of things other than basic-html-table-atrocities or WYSIWYG vomit for a very short time.
I was very lucky to have a T1 connection in college right around the time the internet was heating up, I feel.
Before that, even though I had a 28.8, there was nothing worth seeing that would inspire me to bug my mom to get anything greater than that, save for AOL Backstreet Boys fansites or the four people at my high school who had websites because they were enrolled in “Super Smart Computer ++” and had such intriguing content on their sites as:

    “Things I like”

  • Computers
  • Lunch
  • L.E.D. lights
  • Science
  • Hot babes
  • Graphing Calculators


When I finally stepped onto the Information Superhighway, myself, I did sort of wish I were one of those nerds. Unfortunately, I’m the rare breed of nerd not blessed with any sort of Scientific Ability traits, but abundant in the ones involving Not Liking People and Sitting Home Alone Playing Video Games.
I couldn’t telnet or usenet or fetch my way out of a paper cluster.
I still can only mildly irc and ftp and all sorts of other embarrassing things that I shouldn’t even mention here to keep you from losing all respect for me.
And it’s not bad enough that I was on a Macintosh until 2000.
I know, I know, the age-old debate is tiresome, but seriously, as user-friendly as Macs appear, if you don’t want to type something up in ClarisWorks or play Solitaire or something, it’s sort of difficult. It’s a different way of thinking.
When I got a PC, I realized that if at first something doesn’t seem right, there are about 1,000 ways you can cheat your way around getting it to work!
Like most people, I started out an idiot. Before I even had this site, I was a forum dweeb, hanging out in the Winamp forums, trying to fake my way through PaintShop to gain the respect of some yahoos. As I grew, (minimally) I learned the rules of posting, netiquette, and manners (how these lessons remain hidden to 98% of the idiots out there, I’ll never know).
Being a writer all my life, it was also a wonderful way for me to express my personality through the written language.
Just as in that Far Side comic, if you see a guy in a deer-hunting hat, tweaking out, twitching and holding a shotgun, it’s nature’s way of saying “Stay Away.”
Just so on the internet.
“Yo dudez asl?/ i like pie” is not only the internet’s way of saying “I’m a moron,” but it says that the person doesn’t have enough patience to try and show his personality.
And “asshole” is not a personality. No matter how many forum wacky hipsters will try to tell you otherwise.
Shit, I’ve stumbled off topic.
Okay, I started talking about this, because back in the day, the majority of the people I talked to online were my age. Those that weren’t were usually younger, which stands to reason, because computers that people could actually use were just coming into being, so they could hypothetically use them at a younger age.
I’m surprised that my hot cousin Jordan’s first words in 1989 weren’t “Bad command or file name?!” considering how many times young 9-year-old Lauren screamed it at her grandparents’ computer trying to load up Douchey the Douchebag Teaches Division.
But there was also the breed of adult who were either computer geniuses from way back or the even rarer breed of old dogs who could learn new tricks.
(Side note: My mother has gone to weekly computer meetings at the local library for almost 10 years, and she still doesn’t know what an email attachment is or how to open one.)
So, yes, on the internet, my visions of adults all settled around my old friend Mauman, and I was never very far off.
It’s no offense. They were just older than us, and smarter than everyone their own age. But still…they were like…grown-ups. With kids and mortgages and shit.
But now that the internet has become SO user-friendly, people my fucking MOM’S age can be camwhores!
I knew the time would come, but I thought it would be when camwhores grew UP.
I always think of this shit when I see some idiot with a “Limp Bizkit” tattoo or something like that and laugh at how 40 years from now their grandkids are going to think that tattoo is about as hardcore as the polyp right next to it.
But I thought I was going to be given a couple decades!
This livejournal is so embarrassing!
Please, somebody. Please shoot me if, when I am 46, *if* I still blog, I have an avatar that says fucking “Trouble.”

I’ve already come to terms with the fact that when I’m 30, I can’t wear t-shirts with wacky phrases on them. At 35, I shouldn’t be allowed to quote South Park episodes. At 40, I can no longer use the phrase “What’s up” and the jury’s still out on if I will continue to meow at all.
And God forbid any other more trendy phrases come along that 40-year-old Lauren tries to use to be cool.
I’m sure I’ve offended some people with this, but please just check out that livejournal and you’ll understand my point.
I’m sure that lady is an absolute delight in real life, and I’m sure my mom and her could have a lot of very long talks about things like How Many Roads Men Can Walk Down and what a hunk that Elvis was, and I hope she never finds this page, because I don’t like hurting people. I just like laughing at them.
Also, if I’ve still offended you, to cover my bases, um, toddlers are cretins, pre-teens are wastes of perfectly good hormones, teenagers are retards, and I hate everyone my own age.

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