| I’ve been having this strange feeling lately — like I’ve stepped sideways into a version of the world that looks familiar, but behaves very differently from the one I grew up in. It usually starts in the evening. I sit down, thinking I’ll just put something on the telly, relax for a bit… and forty minutes later I’m still scrolling. Endless choices, nothing quite right, everything demanding attention or emotional investment. I remember when you just watched what was on. You didn’t overthink it. Sometimes it was rubbish, sometimes it was brilliant, but you didn’t have to decide so hard. And then there’s packaging. Honestly, when did opening something become a full-body activity? Scissors out, glasses on, a careful check to make sure you don’t slice your finger open just trying to get to a toothbrush or a packet of ham. I don’t remember it being like this. Things used to open. You peeled, you pulled, you were in. Now it feels like the packaging is actively suspicious of you. Music is another one. I was thinking the other day about how many daft, joyful songs there used to be knocking about. Songs that didn’t ask anything of you except to smile or sing along: frogs, toast, ridiculous accents, nonsense lyrics. Nobody cared whether it was profound, extraordinary, or meaningful — it was just fun. These days, everything feels so earnest. So serious. Like, even pop music is carrying the weight of the world. And maybe that’s the point. The world does feel heavier. More complicated. More cautious. Everything has a reason, a rule, a warning label. Even joy sometimes feels like it needs to justify itself. I’ve wondered if this is just me getting older. And maybe some of it is. When you’ve lived a bit, you do lose patience for things that make life more complicated than it needs to be. You start noticing friction more. You think, “This didn’t used to be this awkward,” and you’re pretty sure you’re right. But I don’t think it’s just age. I think many systems have genuinely drifted away from humans. Things are designed for efficiency, security, algorithms, logistics — not for tired hands at the end of the day, or people who want a laugh, or someone who wants to switch their brain off without committing to a ten-part emotional saga. What surprises me most is how radical simple things feel now. A programme that’s just easy to watch. An unapologetically silly song. Packaging that opens without tools. These small comforts stand out because they’re quietly disappearing. I don’t want to go backwards. I’m not longing for some perfect past that never really existed. I miss the ease. The lightness. The sense that not everything had to be optimised, analysed, or taken so seriously. Maybe that’s what getting older really does. It doesn’t make you grumpy — it makes you selective. You start noticing where joy has been squeezed out, and you quietly, stubbornly miss it. And saying that out loud is its own small act of rebellion. |
When Did Everything Get So Hard, Serious, And Complicated?
Earthly Comforts 
I’m with you, Rory. I miss it too and yes, I am rebelling. Grabbing a book and reading in the evening is way better than scrolling.
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