Retro Roots. Modern Obsessions.
I used to build ads that floated across your screen and made you curse. Now the ads don’t just annoy you—they study you. They know when you’re whispering to Alexa about Dunkaroos at 2am, and they never let you forget it.
I may be a little angry on this one. Everyone learned the language of healing, but not the skills. This is a no-bull takedown of therapy-speak cosplay, rebranded dysfunction, and the cult of curated pain.
Watching The White Lotus reminded me: I was never wealthy—I was just visiting. This is what it feels like to lose the mask, the job, and the illusion of middle-class safety, while still trying to raise a daughter in a world built for someone else.
The romantic is dead. In his place: a vigilante, a prophet, a ghost in the city’s gutters. This is grief in a mask—and the mask cracks.
Gen X was never built for longevity. We were raised on sarcasm, sugar, and survival. Now we’re aging into broken knees, lost insurance, and jumpsuits that don’t quite zip. This isn’t a fitness manifesto. It’s a love letter to the generation that never expected to grow old — and the bodies we’re learning to live in, even as they fall apart.
I see the anger. I see the fear hiding under it. I see a version of myself standing behind her eyes, and it terrifies me. This is a letter I never thought I’d have to write — to the girl I love, fighting the same ghosts I never fully outran.
When the universe offers no answers, we make our own. Blending absurdism, Gen X grit, and a dash of Rick and Morty, this post explores how meaning isn’t given—it’s crafted, one defiant step at a time.
When the color drains out of life, what’s left? This reflection on aging, depression, and South Park’s Stan hits where it hurts—and reminds us that sometimes, just surviving is the win.
Genex Geek 