Monday, May 14, 2012

street beat: twitter tween.

God, mother. Her eyes are rolling behind the tint of sunglasses.
So perfectly 16.
iPhone as appendage.
Black nail polish.
Embellished vest.
Toothpick figure.
Purse at crook of arm.
Illustrated shirt.
I hope you're reading The Great Gatsby in English class. That's such a good one. 
I hope learning about photosynthesis doesn't bore you too much. Because there will be a day when you actively seek out information on how the world works: "It's Science Friday on NPR, yesssss!"
I hope you have best friends named something like Jessica or Zoe or Becca or Amber. 
I hope driving around in your hand-me-down Honda listening to a painstakingly compiled mix-CD is literally everything and a bag of chips. 
As much as you use it, I hope you're keeping perspective on how very little social media contributes to or reflects upon a well-lived life. How sometimes it even makes you unhappy. Sometimes I forget that too. 
And when you take thousands and thousands of pictures at concerts or basketball games with your phone, it makes me old man depressed: at some point in your life I hope you had a bicycle, and a neighborhood gang, and a backyard, and a baseball mitt, and a coin or stamp collection, with summer nights spent catching fireflies in mason jars in your swimsuit without ever once thinking of Instagram-ing it.

For more unwelcome advice, see: Jon Hamm.

Photo from: The Sartorialist.