In my life, I have seen two Bushes in power, two Gulf Wars, two shuttle disasters, two Germanies, and I have seen the 80s be cool twice. I’m old enough to remember the Cold War (more so, I’m old enough to actually experience Soviet communism first-hand), the Winnipeg Jets, the Fine Young Cannibals, and Herman’s Head.
I’m too young for Generation X, too old for Generation Y, and stuck in that middle straggling generation that is hard to pin down chronologically and even harder to define.
I am twenty-five. A quarter century. It goes without saying that every birthday that you have is your oldest, but on this particular birthday I feel older than I ever have before.
It’s not helping that the Edge is having a “1994 Weekend”. It was a really good year for the whole “new rock” thing (excluding that whole shotgun to the face incident), seeing “Park Life”, “Dummy”, “Downward Spiral”, “Smash”, “Definitely Maybe”, “Mellow Gold”, ” Ill Communication” and a whole bunch of others. Add to that the fact that I was starting high school — when the teenage hormones tend to intensify any music one is exposed to by a factor of ten — and the whole year (musically, at least) becomes a memorable one. Then, as I listen to these classic tunes on the edge, I realize that this was eleven years ago. sigh.