Tomorrow, the Herald will likely run a Margery Eagan column on the ways some people in their 20s chronicle every last second of their lives via online photos and videos.
After I got off the phone with her, I realized that, oy, taken out of context, some of the things I said could make it seem like I'm one of those curmudgeonly "kids today!" types, with my pants up to my chest as I yell at you to get offa my Internets, dammit, when I actually think this whole thing is pretty cool. Plus, the basic idea really isn't any different than the Super-8 movies and scrapbooks that Margery and I remember from our youths - except you don't have to wait for the photos to come back from the lab (and, well, they can make it easier for complete strangers to snicker at you).
'Course, I'm probably just being paranoid and I'm sure Margery, a fine columnist, won't make it sound like I hate everybody under 30. But just in case: I don't.
Eagan talked to me even after learning I was well past 20-somethingness myself. Dunno if she knew about this.
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