I admit it. Just when I think I’m all progressive and 21st-century, I am reminded of things I miss.
Some might even call me a…you know…one of those things pictured at the left. It’s ok; I don’t mind.
On some things, I’m just old fashioned.
I don’t know why I’m feeling all nostalgic this morning (seeing as how my aching head and sore throat are not making me happy), but it may surprise you to learn how really stuck-in-the-olden-days I am. Time has indeed moved on without me in many ways.
Some Reasons I Might Be Called “Old Fashioned”
- I think men should still open doors for ladies, and offer to carry heavy things, and let them go first.
- I believe children should be respectful to adults, and that there are parental decisions which should not be open to debate.
- I’m totally comfortable with the word “gay” also meaning “happy and carefree.”
- I think girls should leave more of their physical attributes to the imagination, and less hanging out for all to see (I know, TRO would disagree).
- I watch White Christmas and It’s a Wonderful Life every December, and although both movies contain no hot guys, no swear words, no sexual situations, no naked people, no violence and no CGI, I still love watching them, and I still bawl like an idiot in all the same places.
But I’m really a paradox; self-contradictory. I cling to certain notions and conventions of the past while maintaining an iron grip on modernity, to wit:
- I couldn’t see myself enjoying life as much without my computer and cell phone: two things I definitely did not have growing up, but without which I still had a perfectly happy childhood.
- My views on the modern “Christian” church and its many cruel incarnations might be considered radical by some, especially considering my old-fashioned views on other issues. [Although….hating Pharisees is likely a very old concept.]
But I guess that’s the beauty of the thing. We can choose what we ascribe to, feel, and hold dear. I’m just glad we have the freedom to do it. Not everyone does.
And now, to the sofa, after swallowing DayQuil, which, of course, makes the world go around (DayQuil, not the sofa).