When Did I Become My Parents?
🎸 When Did I Become My Parents?
Or: Why TikTok Sounds Like a Microwave Having a Breakdown
It happened slowly. Like grey hairs sneaking in or the creeping suspicion that I now prefer a quiet pub over a loud bar. One day I was the rebellious youth blasting Led Zeppelin and scoffing at my dad’s confusion over cassette tapes. The next, I was standing in the kitchen, arms crossed, muttering, “What is this garbage they call music?”
I’ve become my parents. And I’m not even mad about it.
📺 Reality TV: The New National Religion?
Let’s start with reality TV. Back in my day, “reality” meant watching your mate try to fix a car with duct tape and blind optimism. Now? It’s people named Zayne and Brielle crying over rose ceremonies and Instagram likes. I tried watching one of these shows once. I lasted seven minutes. I thought it was a parody. It wasn’t.
I asked my daughter why she watches it. She said, “It’s just fun, Dad.”
Fun? FUN? Watching people argue over who gets the last protein shake in a shared mansion isn’t fun—it’s a slow descent into madness.
📱 TikTok: The App That Ate Their Attention Span
Then there’s TikTok. The app that turns every teenager into a part-time dancer, full-time zombie. I watched my son scroll through 47 videos in under two minutes. I asked what any of them were about. He shrugged. “Just vibes.”
Just vibes? I used to vibe to Paranoid by Black Sabbath. That had riffs, rebellion, and existential dread. These videos have… a guy lip-syncing to a chipmunk remix of Taylor Swift while making pancakes.
I tried TikTok once. The algorithm showed me a man yelling at his cat, a woman reviewing 17 types of oat milk, and a teenager explaining quantum physics using emojis. I closed the app and went outside to water the garden. I’ve never felt older—or more relieved.
🎶 Music: What Happened to the Gods?
Now let’s talk music. We had Led Zeppelin, Ozzy Osbourne, Deep Purple, and the Stones. Real music. Music that made your soul vibrate and your parents worry you were summoning demons.
Today’s music? It’s either someone whispering over a trap beat or yelling about heartbreak in autotune. I asked my son who his favorite artist was. He said, “Lil Gravy.” I thought he was joking. He wasn’t.
To be fair, the Rolling Stones are still around. Like immortal rock wizards. Mick Jagger could out-dance half of TikTok and still hit a high note while doing it. If that’s not proof of divine intervention, I don’t know what is.
🧬 The Inevitable Shift
So yes, I’ve become my parents. I complain about noise. I don’t understand youth culture. I say things like “back in my day” and mean it. But here’s the twist—I kind of love it.
Because every generation thinks the next one is weird. My parents didn’t get my obsession with vinyl and long hair. I don’t get my kids’ obsession with ring lights and influencers. But somewhere in that confusion is connection. And maybe, just maybe, one day my son will hear Smoke on the Water and feel something stir.
Until then, I’ll be in the kitchen, sipping tea, muttering about Lil Gravy, and secretly hoping the Stones never retire.
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Co-authored by Greg [anonymous attribution], with Microsoft Copilot. This piece blends lived experience with generational humor to reflect on cultural shifts and the timeless joy of rock.
