Old thoughts, with a comic

I started going through old journal entries this morning in an attempt to make sense of the vast folders and documents plugging up free space on my hard drive (eww, that sounds gross). Here's an excerpt I thought was worth sharing from February 23, 2004:

I am sitting here in the window of Day’s coffeeshop at the age of 21, writing, the same exact place I was 3 years ago. Writing--constipatedly, grudgingly--and no closer to holding a college degree or a tangible future.
I have just finished listening to a piece on NPR about twenty-somethings moving back in with their parents post-graduation because the job market is so prohibitive at the moment, due to recession. First, they said kids are moving back home because there is less stigma associated with it, and because “young people” want to save money. Then they begin in on how kids actually LIKE their parents. They get along with them in a way their parents could not with their own parents.
And I sit here by myself in this cold storefront window, staring at the slacker-filled abyss that is Bardstown Road Highlands, and I feel a note of discord strike my heart at the thought of what this guest on this radio show is saying. It dissettles me.
There is something extremely distasteful to me in the notions of this ex-hippie talking on the radio about how parents today “don’t want to separate themselves from young people. They listen to more of the ‘young people’s’ music; they wear more of the ‘young people’s’ fashions, and they are close to them in ways that World War II generation parents could not relate to their kids, to us.” A statement like this--and it is not a new assertion--really rubs me the wrong way. Well, it forces to the forefront of my consciousness all doubts about the veracity and genuineness of this statement, where they then ferret and furrow uncomfortably into and around the gyri and sulci of my brain. It is worthy to note that this parent and commentator who spoke about generational differences in the parent-child relationship NEVER ONCE referred to his own child. He referred to “young persons.”

In other news, I also found a comic strip I made for my lovely friend Elizabeth last year. Here it is:



And as Meigooni faithfully pointed out, not everyone who checks this blog reads Spanish! (duh, Clare. sheesh.) So, Here's the translation:
FRAME 1: My God, rooster! We're in Spanish! What're we going to do?
FRAME 2: I know... First, we have to get new clothes--STAT!
FRAME 3: Dave: Why? Rooster: Because, Latinos never wear ties, man. It looks stupid, you know?
FRAME 4: Oh, yeah, I get it: Don't be a gringo.
FRAME 5: So, how do you like our new duds?
FRAME 6: That's not funny, bitch! I'M not the gringo, motherf*er!
NOTE: For Elizabeth, my gringo bitch :)