The new 90210 makes me feel old. And not just because I can see the slight aging around Jennie Garth's eyes during the Kelly Taylor close-ups. My husband and I both think that the show's music -- intro, backgrounds, transitions -- is louder than the original series. Is it, or are we just more sensitive to it? I started noticing that a long time ago...probably around my mid-twenties at the entrance of an Abercrombie and Fitch store. Why was the music so loud and the clothes so wrinkly? I fled to Banana Republic.
The volume of music is not the only issue. In conversations with background music, I usually can't make out what the characters are saying. Sadly I have AARP-card-carrying relatives with this same problem in everyday life. (Is this how it starts -- with TV?)
And even if I do make out what they're saying, someone went and changed all the slang I knew in high school. At one point, Annie got a text from her date that said something like, "I had to bowl to catch [some musical act I've already forgotten]." At least that's what I think it said. I had no idea what he meant by "bowl," especially since they were at a bowling alley. I wondered why he was staying to bowl if he had to leave. My husband explained that "bowl" probably meant leave. Urbandictionary.com confirms that "bowl" can mean "to leave someplace," among other more interesting definitions. Why not bail? Maybe it was bail but again, my declining hearing...(it's the iPod-listening, not my age, I swear). At any rate, I'm sure the message looked more like this: A I M BLG CU L8R. Rendering it completely incomprehensible to anyone over the age of 25.
And finally, the show's plot reflects how much more we cram into life these days. In the premiere, Annie passed an old essay to a friend who then plagarized it. In the next scene, Annie and her brother left for a party without waiting for their parents' approval. And later in the episode, Annie flew to San Francisco for dinner with a guy she barely knows. All of this in a two-hour episode, and the only punishment (for the last infraction) is the prohibition of school-night dates. Hello?!? When Brenda drove to Mexico with Dylan, it was World War III in la casa de Walsh, with a lasting aftermath. Each of Annie's transgression would easily have been fodder for three or more episodes. It's no wonder I'm exhausted after an episode of the new 90210. Oh wait, that's because it's past my bedtime.
Friday, September 12, 2008
Friday, September 5, 2008
A Different Point of View, 15 Years Later
You know you're old when...
I'm blaming parenting as the force that pushed me over the line between young and old. I don't mean old as in creaky knees and cloudy vision. I mean old as in "being a square," to borrow a term from the 60s. (Was it the 60s? I'm old but not that old.) Nothing looks the same when you're a parent. In discussing age-related driving restrictions (for both the elderly and teens), my mom told me the story of a friend whose teenage son had recently got his license. The boy had assured his mom that he would never have more than one passenger with him on the way to or from his afterschool job. Mom knew better because two of his friends worked with him. She waited in the parking lot at quittin' time and nabbed her son trying to drive away with two passengers (against the law for his license status). Fifteen years ago I would have thought, "Wow, what a pain in the backside. Doesn't she have better things to do than lurk behind parked cars?" But upon hearing this story I thought, "Good for her! Good that she cared enough to check it out." And that's when I realized, yes, this is what old feels like. The knees are fine, the vision is great, but welcome to the world of college savings accounts and double-checking toy recall lists.
The parenting perspective carries over into the make-believe world too. Somehow we caught an episode of Different Strokes (nice flashback!) on TV. Arnold had snuck out to a party, leaving his 7-year-old stepbrother asleep at home. Alone. Of course the kid woke up and was freaked out. Granted, the Drummonds lived in an upscale building with a doorman, leaving little possibility of a burglar (although wasn't that another episode?). And granted, Gary Coleman isn't my first choice of sitter. But I couldn't help thinking, "What if there had been a fire?" or wondering if Arnold's careless abandonment had scarred little Sam for life. I wanted to ground Arnold myself. But I'm sure I saw the same episode 20 years ago and at the time hoped that Arnold wouldn't get caught sneaking out.
So I'm old but there's no turning back. Just don't let me catch you smoking.
I'm blaming parenting as the force that pushed me over the line between young and old. I don't mean old as in creaky knees and cloudy vision. I mean old as in "being a square," to borrow a term from the 60s. (Was it the 60s? I'm old but not that old.) Nothing looks the same when you're a parent. In discussing age-related driving restrictions (for both the elderly and teens), my mom told me the story of a friend whose teenage son had recently got his license. The boy had assured his mom that he would never have more than one passenger with him on the way to or from his afterschool job. Mom knew better because two of his friends worked with him. She waited in the parking lot at quittin' time and nabbed her son trying to drive away with two passengers (against the law for his license status). Fifteen years ago I would have thought, "Wow, what a pain in the backside. Doesn't she have better things to do than lurk behind parked cars?" But upon hearing this story I thought, "Good for her! Good that she cared enough to check it out." And that's when I realized, yes, this is what old feels like. The knees are fine, the vision is great, but welcome to the world of college savings accounts and double-checking toy recall lists.
The parenting perspective carries over into the make-believe world too. Somehow we caught an episode of Different Strokes (nice flashback!) on TV. Arnold had snuck out to a party, leaving his 7-year-old stepbrother asleep at home. Alone. Of course the kid woke up and was freaked out. Granted, the Drummonds lived in an upscale building with a doorman, leaving little possibility of a burglar (although wasn't that another episode?). And granted, Gary Coleman isn't my first choice of sitter. But I couldn't help thinking, "What if there had been a fire?" or wondering if Arnold's careless abandonment had scarred little Sam for life. I wanted to ground Arnold myself. But I'm sure I saw the same episode 20 years ago and at the time hoped that Arnold wouldn't get caught sneaking out.
So I'm old but there's no turning back. Just don't let me catch you smoking.
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