Sometimes lately I’ve been feeling like a generational spy. It’s fascinating — I’d classify myself as an older Millennial, born in 1984, one of that newest generational wave that’s just starting to enter the workplace. (I don’t care for the “Gen Y” label.) And I’ve had a couple of opportunities lately to witness conversations around generational differences, especially around/with technology. Conversations about trying to grasp the Millenials, and how we work. Conversations in which I was notably the youngest person there, and perhaps didn’t really register as one of “them”.

It’s funny, I never realized there was an “us” there before. But when you think about it…

I grew up with computers. The first one I remember was from Texas Instruments, probably a TI-99/4A. I remember it had no monitor, and we always plugged it into our huge 70’s console TV. (We had that same TV until I was 15 or 16, as I recall.) I remember playing games on it with a joystick controller — I had to have been like 4 or 5 at the oldest.

After that, it was all Macs. I think the first one was a Mac LC. I remember playing Oregon Trail on it, and my mother being frustrated that I “won” after like the second time I played it. (Inasmuch as one can “win” at Oregon Trail.) From this very educational game, I learned important life lessons, like: if you shoot a buffalo, you’re golden. I also remember making pictures with graphics software called KidPix. (I always really liked the tree stamp in particular. And I still draw trees to this day.)

I must have been 11 or 12 when we first got the Internet. It was AOL at first, of course, and I remember being really confused about the difference between AOL and the World Wide Web. (This must have been around 96-97.) I also remember doing those things that freak parents out — pretending to be other people, pretending to be older, pretending to be from Hawaii. I remember reading about sex on message boards. I remember being exposed to all kinds of ideas that my parents never would have wanted me to hear. Growing up as a queer kid in conservative Alabama, with significantly different religious and political beliefs from my family, some of these things were pretty formative to me.

I learned words for things that I was and didn’t know it, and I learned that I wasn’t alone. I think it’s safe to say that the Internet and Barnes & Noble (where I would go to read books that I couldn’t afford to buy) played a pretty big influence on who I am today.

And I like that person; in fact I’m damn proud of her.

This started out as a post about generational differences around technology, and turned into something rather different I suppose. (Perhaps I’ll return to those thoughts in a future post.) Or perhaps the difference is just that I am who I am today, and without the technology that my generation grew up with, I wouldn’t be.

None of us would.

The other day on my way home I was idly wondering if the visual design of cars could actually contribute to road rage.

Think about it. You’re in traffic and someone slams on their brakes in front of you. Their brake lights come on. Pretty annoying already, right?

Now, most brake lights look like sort of like red, evil, glaring eyes. So it’s like a double-whammy: not only do you have to slam on your brakes, but the car ahead of you is giving you the evil eye. I think some primitive part of our brain is threatened by brake lights on cars. (<– semi-serious)

I wonder if changing the color of brake lights to, say, blue would have any effect on road rage?

Sometimes it’s good to start over from the beginning.

I’ve practiced yoga off and on for about two years, but tonight I took the first lesson of a beginner’s class that I signed up for recently. (I am lucky enough to live in a place where there’s a fabulous yoga studio about a block from my apartment.) And it was good.

The work was pretty easy, but I learned some new poses. They were poses I’ve been doing for awhile, but I still learned them as new poses tonight. I realized that there are some basic things that were never properly explained to me before, as I just kind of jumped in to a random mix of yoga classes without ever taking a proper beginner’s course.

Of course, that’s the thing about yoga — I would hope that, after 20 years of practicing, I could still take a beginner’s class and get something new out of it.

Anyways, this feels like the right thing to be doing, right now. My practice has been sketchy at best since moving here, and my intention for this class is to get back on my feet (and hands, and back, and head, and arms). Which can only be a good thing for me, in the long run.