Unless you have been hanging out in Siberia (and maybe not even there), Pokemon Go has come into your field of vision. To say that it has been popular is an understatement. Since it’s July 6th release, the augmented reality game has boosted Nintendo’s shares by over 50% with $9 BILLION boost in value – in about a week. Reports show that hunting little Picachu is more popular right now than Tinder and Twitter. It would appear that catching them all is more important than trolling and sex. Who knew?
I was born in 1976 – I am not the target Pokemon demographic. However, when my two older (read “love the wifi”) children and their friends (read “also love the wifi”) asked if they could borrow a cooler to pack drinks and snacks because they had plans to spend the entire day walking around outside in downtown Savannah (GTFOH!), I became curious. I downloaded the app, and while it isn’t my thing, I can definitely see the appeal.
I caught my first Pokemon and texted the screenshot to my daughter. I was an instant rockstar. She wanted to text, talk, and damn near sit in my lap when she saw me. I’ve since deleted the app (like I said, not my thing) and she still loves me. She’s a little disappointed, but she has assured me that her love is unconditional and she is sure we can get over this little hiccup in our relationship. After all, I did birth her and she is responsible for my very first stretch marks so that has to count for something, right?
Evidently I was not the only parent experiencing this phenomenon of sunshine deprived couch children suddenly emerging from the basements and bonus rooms equipped with long distance hiking travel supplies.
Suddenly, there were people…everywhere. Walking around, exploring new places, talking to each other, interacting…everywhere.
And it took exactly from Saturday to Tuesday for the bubble poppers to show up in my social media sphere.
Don’t misunderstand, I’m not talking about the funny meme folks. I am not a humorless twit. Some stuff, while snarky, is funny.
I am talking about the assholes. The ones who don’t play, don’t care, don’t know, don’t have any skin in the game at all – except when it comes to popping your bubbles.
Bubble poppers have come into my field of vision lately. I can’t quite put my finger on how the idea gained solidarity in my brain, but it’s there. I have vague recollections of watching children blow bubbles, having that create immense happiness, watching a bubble pop, and the look changing from delight to crestfallen.
Something about that recollection at some point was triggered when I experienced this played out in real life. I can’t remember when or how. I can’t even tell you if it was me.
But I can tell you I’ve seen it, I’ve felt it, and, admittedly, I have been guilty of doing it.
Bubble popping – that moment when a thing is bringing you utter joy and someone decides to just stick a finger in it and deflate the whole experience.
Understandably, in the real world, there are some ideas and situations that need to be attended to. Not all happys are healthy and sometimes you need a little poke of reality in the midst of the joy. Admittedly there are real issues with Pokemon Go frenzy. Safety needs to be discussed. Personal space needs to be remembered. Respect for where you are and the people around you does not take a back seat catching them all.
But haphazard bubble popping is a bullshit move.
However, I am adult enough to know that this phenomenon is not going away. Bubble poppers either don’t know or don’t care that they are being assholes. Or maybe popping bubbles is their bubble and this will pop their bubble. I dunno. And frankly, I’ve decided I don’t care.
What I do care about is learning to better protect my bubble.
Tennessee Williams Quote