Write Your Own Hallmark Movie!

Your character is:
A jaded ad exec, PR professional, or television personality
or maybe a lawyer who lives at work and does the kind of deals that even the writer doesn't understand, but gives MC plenty of underlings to be bitchy to.
You know she's sold out because:

She lives in a minimalist high-rise
Orders lots of takeout
May have a black leather couch

SETTING
When the movie opens, she lives in:
-Manhattan
_Chicago's Gold Coast
_Silicon Valley
 But secretly, she is afraid to have anyone discover her small-town roots:
_Running a Christmas tree farm in Oregon
-Running the last soda fountain in Candy Cane, Iowa
LOVE INTEREST
- Hunky high school boyfriend who's a mechanic or handyman
-Miraculously unscarredwidower with adorable kid.

Like Research, but for Stomachs. and other stuff...

-my antacid's been recalled(I've never had problems from it...just sad that anyone could be facing danger from something that made me want to French-kiss a chemist on  repeated occasions.) We went to the vitamin store to find something to replace it and  I hope they are okay.(it seems like such a fall, to go from wishing to write something great, or find my true love, all the way down to hoping that my new chews stop the heartburn without tasting like earwax, but here we are.I hope I don't end up feeling nostalgic about these pills like some ladies I've met who were on Fen-Phen back in the day, or haunting some farmacia in some border town trying to get some as contraband.)Was hoping from more knowledge from the vitamin store, honestly, but the dude who was in there wasn't the Vitamin Guy I might have expected, but more a man that just happened to sell vitamins.  Which is good on one hand, as a  true Vitamin Guy wouldn't love that I ate chicken nuggets yesterday.

-Nothing shows the limitations of "don't boo, vote" like watching Senators vote to put a subliterate racist on the bench for life.

Partial thoughts on the Boomer Thing...

I think I thought I was a boomer until I was in my mid-twenties.(Not literally, being that I was a baby during Watergate) but my disability meant that my parents and their subculture probably left a longer shadow than it would for more mobile teens.I like their movies, the music, and I still wonder what it might have been like to protest when that was seen as a new and novel tactic.my favorite sub-genre of women’s fiction still remains the kind where the innocent freshman changes after hitting Berkeley in 1968 or whatever, which was a harmless pleasure aside from the fact that I went into college expecting to be transformed and was grievously disappointed. Every experience palls when you expect it to be life-altering, which is probably something more average kids learned playing team sports or singing in the school talent show, but I didn’t.  I think I identified with their movements because it was dawning on me that I was in a fight that most of my classmates were not because they were abled and it would take years to start to get through my family’s emotional denial about disability. I didn’t have to slack, and I wasn’t yet in a position to turn my back on a system that I was hoping to be perfect and get in.(occasionally, a fatherly “free-market’ enthusiast will hope to rekindle that enthusiasm almost as much as his wife will want to hype me on a healing supplement or the  restoring power of the white picket fence and a lid for every pot.) Still, it did get old going to feminist events and being asked about “the youth” while being asked to hand out programs or something. Again.

I really do think that life is slightly simpler when you know nobody has a naked picture of you, and that people under thirty are too confused by wrong numbers.  I think these kinds of generational differences should be more like horoscopes or something—fun facts about the way you grew up that clearly don’t tell the full story about anyone, but if I had to take a side in this case, it would have to be the kids.  Too many  Baby Boomers seem to think about what they could buy in 1974 without realizing that a lot of the supports that got them through school might not have existed for subsequent generations.  Rents and tuition are both too high, the climate is in an emergency and the way big employers deal with frequent turnover is to work people until they drop.

Another Online Friend Has Passed...

and my grief is no less real for being a bit distant.(And on a bit of a time-delay) I wish our real-life paths could have crossed, although any friendship forged across the miles can lead to some disconnections.
One of the hardest things about being a disabled person can be the amount of sudden death I've known about since I was ten or so, especially since I can't really believe in the promise of an afterlife.  I never got to be young  and "invincible", but then again, that does save you from reading a piece about Gen X being real grown-ups now, or whatever(Which is more of a tin-foil lining than a silver one, but we'll find the bright parts where we can.)
I'm sorry that we won't swap fanfiction, or talk about books, or what it's like to be liberal in places that are not.
I'm sorry that she won't drink fruit punch again.