I know kids these days don’t know what Facebook is or they roll their eyes and say it is SO passé. But I still use it as it’s been a part of my life since 2007 – woah, 9 years!- and I’ve stuck with every layout change that they made, specially in the first five years before they kind of decided to stick with the timeline format.
Of course, the usage of my Facebook greatly changed throughout the years. I was much younger and more naive 9 years ago and therefore the posts were age appropriate. I have since, as might be expected, deleted quite a few but all in all my posts were/are alright.
Around 2010 (2011?), my Mom joined Facebook and as many others, I dreaded adding her to MY Facebook. Gosh, these are my private thoughts I share on the internet with my friends, not my MOM! What should I do? Add her or block her? After a week of listening to her whining that we are truly not friends if we are not Facebook friends I decided to add her.
My Facebook posts have changed since. I think twice about what I write or think twice about who am I arguing with about a certain hot issue (btw, never get into arguments on Facebook, they are a complete waste of time and pointless!).
I guess it is safe to say that since my Mom joined Facebook, I think twice about what I say or do because I do not want her to see her daughter act like an idiot or say something stupid. Not that I do that often, but it happens. It happens to all of us and we should all be happy we have our Moms as Facebook friends- internet is not a public diary and we don’t want them to find out every detail of our lives. Or do we?
Michael and Kate have been together for seven years now, I think. Kate has gorgeous black hair and she pierced Michael’s heart with those stunning blue eyes of hers. Michael is also quite a handsome man who can drown himself in alcohol every night and yet, he is not whiny and groggy when his hangover kicks in the next morning.
The reason why Michael and Kate are so fascinating to me is that they are thirty-ish years old and they still go out clubbing. Twice a week is a must! Before you say Michael and Kate obviously don’t have jobs, Michael has a full-time job and Kate does work full-time too (although she tends to go from one job to another). But since I have known them, they go out and get drunk like they are still fifteen. And the thrill is apparently still there. How is that possible? How is the thrill still there?
To me the thrill faded away when I met David. Because, honestly, once you meet someone you are pretty serious about- you don’t really want to go clubbing anymore. I mean….dark, smokey places with drunk, sweaty and often slimy strangers accompanied by loud, repetitive music kind of lose their appeal. Right? Then, I got older too and staying up til 6 am felt like a punishment, not enjoyment. I couldn’t stay up all night anymore; my back hurt like I was carrying heavy blocks of cements around for hours (just from standing/dancing at the club) and waking up the next afternoon felt like I was a living zombie- by the time I woke up the night was coming down and ultimately I failed to see the light of day.
And as I am typing this on a sunny Monday morning, barely awake from my seven hour sleep, I know Michael and Kate probably got home at 4 am and are already at work talking about another great night of partying. And I wish I could understand the thrill again. But I just can’t.
For those of us who grew up in the States, a Kinder egg, a delicious white and milk chocolate egg, is not a common childhood memory. As a matter of fact, they are forbidden as they contain a little toy which, of course, American children could choke on but European children somehow do not.
Anyway, I had the honor of having my first Kinder egg in Frankfurt, Germany. I was visiting my friend from Bosnia who is now first generation German. Mira opened her palm, and handed me a Kinder egg. “Here, try something very European.” “What’s this?” I asked her. “This was my favorite thing growing up, it’s really good.” I gently unwrapped the plastic around it and indeed, inside it was a chocolate egg. I bit into it and felt something against my teeth. There was a little plastic box that I opened as I chewed on the rest of the chocolate. In it was a toy I had to assemble… it turned out to be a dinosaur.
“Intriguing,” I commented. “Yeah, all the kids here know them. I used to only get them when I was really good, or for holidays- but some kids got them all the time.” “What do you mean?” I asked. “Surely they can’t be that expensive.” “Well, I don’t remember how much they were back in the day, but now they cost around 65 cents.” In dollars, I guess that would be roughly 80 cents. More than a hamburger at McDonald’s. “Some kids got them every day. I was always so jealous. It made me realize some parents have more money to spend than others.”
Intrigued as I was by this piece of information, I went home and did some Math. If a child got it 5x a week, that would total to 3.25 euros a week. 13 euros a month. 156 euros a year. That’s roughly 200 dollars on a little piece of chocolate. I could understand how parents that do not make a lot of money couldn’t buy it. With 200 dollars you can buy clothing or shoes or other types of food for your child. And if the kid didn’t get it everyday, it at least became something special….because I am sure the kids who had it every day thought nothing of it.
Did any of you experience this Kinder egg “social division”?
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