George Orwell's 1984

silvercobra68 said:The President was basically a Hollywood actor back then. A total precedent. New careers were popping up everywhere. Women were rocking those permed curls, denim, and puffed sleeves. I had just come out of my first marriage. I was 31, in my prime. Now, Adele has hit 50. It feels like yesterday, yet 26 years have vanished. Fast forward to 2010. The President is an African American. Another precedent. Women are wearing plastic breasts and lip fillers. I’ve just emerged from my third marriage. It's as if nothing has changed at all. It's terrifying how time slips away. In the twilight of my life, having long since passed 50, I find myself reflecting. On time, on life, and on that approaching, inevitable... on George Orwell, who hasn't a clue. Loser.

//Note to the moderators: this isn't a literature discussion. I'm clearly not contemplating George Orwell's novel; I'm contemplating the twilight of my own life and the end that looms ahead.

No, I'm not sick, I haven't been diagnosed with anything, and I'm not suicidal. I'm just being realistic, knowing that at 57, the end is drawing closer.

silvercobra68 said:If I had any brain cells left to spare, I'd lend you some, but since I'm tapped out, I'll just give you an explanation.

So, Orwell depicts 1984 as an anti-human year—a nightmare defined by technical horrors like Big Brother. It’s a year where individual life is stripped of all humanity. Yet, looking back from our current perspective, 1984 almost seems human-friendly. Don't you think? And yet, fundamentally, nothing has actually changed. Except, of course, for us, now being twenty-six years older.

Why is it scary how time passes? I guess it's because, deep down, nothing has actually shifted. Even though everything, like, seems to be changing... it’s not real change. Actually, if you look at it, "we're just stuck in time."

Being stuck in time basically means you aren't living, you aren't evolving—you're just stagnating. Some people say the only way out of this zombie(undead, which isn't exactly living) state is through dying.

Back in '84?
I was barely three years old back then...
I don't really have any memories of the eighties... probably because I was just a little kid living in my own little world, where my entire existence revolved around playtime...
Those were the days when happiness was simple—just pure, unadulterated joy, wandering around with my toys scattered everywhere...
I still remember those old Caboodles; honestly, I still go out and buy them today because they bring back such good vibes...
It feels like we’ve all collectively forgotten what it actually feels like to be a child... if I’m being honest, that’s the part I miss most...😢
It's like everyone suddenly decided to grow up overnight, tossing aside that inner sense of wonder just to prove they could be "adults"...
What a shame...😠

Douglas Hernandez3 said:Back in '84?
I was barely three years old back then...
I don't really have any memories of the eighties... probably because I was just a little kid living in my own little world, where my entire existence revolved around playtime...
Those were the days when happiness was simple—just pure, unadulterated joy, wandering around with my toys scattered everywhere...
I still remember those old Caboodles; honestly, I still go out and buy them today because they bring back such good vibes...
It feels like we’ve all collectively forgotten what it actually feels like to be a child... if I’m being honest, that’s the part I miss most...😢
It's like everyone suddenly decided to grow up overnight, tossing aside that inner sense of wonder just to prove they could be "adults"...
What a shame...😠

What are you even doing in this thread? You were born in '81, so you're 29 today. Go on, beat it—get back to your office or whatever.

This thread is for mature people. Specifically, those who have actually lived through life and are now somewhere in their sixties—people capable of looking back at their journey without falling into despair, while preparing for whatever comes next.

silvercobra68 said:What are you even doing in this thread? You were born in '81, so you're 29 today. Go on, beat it—get back to your office or whatever.

This thread is for mature people. Specifically, those who have actually lived through life and are now somewhere in their sixties—people capable of looking back at their journey without falling into despair, while preparing for whatever comes next.

If you were an idiot at twenty, you're still an idiot at sixty. Doesn't matter if you're looking back at your life in a state of total misery or just drowning your sorrows in a bottle.
Since you decided to throw out an Orwellian book title, the least you could do is explain why "1984" is actually significant compared to any other year.
So far, you haven't used a single ounce of actual reasoning.

I'm not entirely sure what the author is getting at here, so I'll just share something of my own.
Back when I was a kid, I had this bizarre, nagging sensation—it actually haunted me. I was terrified that I would never die. Maybe it was because of some silly vampire book I read, or maybe... I was just convinced that everyone else (including my own family) would slowly fade away from this world while I remained the only fool left behind to live forever. Year after year, century after century.

Anyway, I grew out of it.
Now I know death is inevitable, but I never really experienced that typical existential dread about mortality that most kids seem to hit around age ten.

As for 1984? It’s pretty much the same as 1884—at least when it comes to human nature.

Douglas Hernandez3 said:Back in '84?
I was barely three years old back then...
I don't really have any memories of the eighties... probably because I was just a little kid living in my own little world, where my entire existence revolved around playtime...
Those were the days when happiness was simple—just pure, unadulterated joy, wandering around with my toys scattered everywhere...
I still remember those old Caboodles; honestly, I still go out and buy them today because they bring back such good vibes...
It feels like we’ve all collectively forgotten what it actually feels like to be a child... if I’m being honest, that’s the part I miss most...😢
It's like everyone suddenly decided to grow up overnight, tossing aside that inner sense of wonder just to prove they could be "adults"...
What a shame...😠

It wasn't that you were "on top of the world"—you were just being naive. Like all of us, really.
Worries didn't get in the way of your happiness because you weren't quite smart enough to worry yet.
Besides, I doubt you were bursting with joy either. Your entire life consisted of just "today," and you probably only thought about tomorrow if a birthday was coming up.

Mark Torres14 said:If you were an idiot at twenty, you're still an idiot at sixty. Doesn't matter if you're looking back at your life in a state of total misery or just drowning your sorrows in a bottle.
Since you decided to throw out an Orwellian book title, the least you could do is explain why "1984" is actually significant compared to any other year.
So far, you haven't used a single ounce of actual reasoning.

I read 1984 back in the early 70s. Back then, Ornella Vanon was topping the charts, and I spent those years pondering the world and my place in its future—not necessarily specifically 1984. Now that we've long passed 1984—we're well into the 2000s—I can look back and see how much my perspective has shifted since then. But honestly, the main reason I picked that year? It was all about Ornella.

silvercobra68 said:I read 1984 back in the early 70s. Back then, Ornella Vanon was topping the charts, and I spent those years pondering the world and my place in its future—not necessarily specifically 1984. Now that we've long passed 1984—we're well into the 2000s—I can look back and see how much my perspective has shifted since then. But honestly, the main reason I picked that year? It was all about Ornella.

What on earth does the year 1984 have to do with an Italian singer like Ornella?😕🤷
It’s perfectly normal that you view the future differently now. Your thoughts today aren't going to be the same ones you had thirty years ago—doesn't even mean they're "wiser," just different.
It all boils down to that age-old question:
Who are you?
The ten-year-old, the twenty-year-old, the fifty-year-old, or the eighty-year-old?

Mark Torres14 said:What on earth does the year 1984 have to do with an Italian singer like Ornella?😕🤷
It’s perfectly normal that you view the future differently now. Your thoughts today aren't going to be the same ones you had thirty years ago—doesn't even mean they're "wiser," just different.
It all boils down to that age-old question:
Who are you?
The ten-year-old, the twenty-year-old, the fifty-year-old, or the eighty-year-old?

Turns out Ornella turned 50 back in 1984—honestly, finding that out left me a little stunned. In my head, she was always this fit 30-year-old, and suddenly she’s a 50-year-old woman.

But even at 50, she's still seven years younger than I am today.

Well, there really is a certain charm to the autumn of one's life—it has its perks. Just imagine finally breaking free from the tyranny of fashion trends; you stop dressing to impress the crowd and start opting for simple, comfortable pieces that don't pinch or pull at all. Then there’s the matter of free speech—you can be blunt, resolute, and entirely unapologetic about your views, without feeling the need to filter yourself for the sake of others, even if they still tolerate your newfound directness... I’m actually looking forward to the day when the younger generation starts offering me their seats on the subway. You can take a stroll through Times Square and always find someone your own age ready for a real conversation, while everyone else just rushes past in a frantic blur... I suspect you haven't quite reached this stage of perspective yet; you're likely still stuck in the shock of it all.

Jonathan Brooks8 said:Well, there really is a certain charm to the autumn of one's life—it has its perks. Just imagine finally breaking free from the tyranny of fashion trends; you stop dressing to impress the crowd and start opting for simple, comfortable pieces that don't pinch or pull at all. Then there’s the matter of free speech—you can be blunt, resolute, and entirely unapologetic about your views, without feeling the need to filter yourself for the sake of others, even if they still tolerate your newfound directness... I’m actually looking forward to the day when the younger generation starts offering me their seats on the subway. You can take a stroll through Times Square and always find someone your own age ready for a real conversation, while everyone else just rushes past in a frantic blur... I suspect you haven't quite reached this stage of perspective yet; you're likely still stuck in the shock of it all.

First off, I'm not the type to hop on a subway just to stay warm or engage in mindless small talk at the square with some folks who have lost their wits.

Second, I'm not in shock at all. If anything, I'm quite the opposite.

As for being free and not caring what others say, I've always been that way. I don't know why people assume you only become yourself once you reach old age.