Kids these days. When I was a kid, actually old people didn’t really complain about being actually old. Though, they might have occasionally moan-bragged about how tough they had it when they were whippersnappers.

I think I can see it a bit from both sides, though.

On the old hand…

Everyone knows how teeth-grittingly annoying it is when someone complains about something they have no right to. “I’m still fighting the last two lbs to my ideal body weight!” Boo f**king hoo, keep crying and maybe you’ll lose it in water weight. “I can only afford the mid-class BMW!” Aw, poor thing, you have the rest of our permission to go kill yourself instead.

On the other young hand…

I’ve only pretended to grow up, and there are a few side effects. Some rad, some bad. Rad: I’ll have a moment when I realize I can just totally buy a pizza and watch TV until 3am WITHOUT ADULT SUPERVISION OR PERMISSION. Bad: I’ll make a Neverending Story reference to a teen and, like a modern-day Medusa, the blank look in their eyes will turn me into a fossil.

I guess the difference is whining about it.

Some might say all these Youth World Problems come from a kind of emotional immaturity, but since I probably fit in this category myself, I prefer to think of it as the opposite of being dead inside.

Most of us have some neurotically illogical insecurity, I guess it just gets mega lame when you’re really openly whiny about them.

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