A Time of Outrage

 

Some people look for reasons to be outraged or insulted.

I don’t know how many other people have this issue, but often when I’m on social media, I forget the fact that everyone in the room, drunk, sober, class bully, village idiot (by that I mean people who intentionally try to appear stupid), the uninformed, those looking to pick a fight, as well as your friends can see what you’ve written.

A simple comment about a television program or some celebrity meant to harm no one ends up being attacked by people you wouldn’t even want to meet in real life. Often those attacks contain rather coarse expletives – the sort you used to be banned from using on social media – for no other reason than the person disagrees with your opinion.

And that is the key word: Opinion. Most of what is posted online is nothing more than opinion. And for that, we are subjected to name-calling.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been called a snowflake for having a conscience. Fine. You know, avalanches are made up of snowflakes. And that statement is often my response to being called a snowflake, if I even bother to respond.

Often, I don’t deem the bullies worthy of a response. If they’re being particularly aggressive, I block them as well as not responding.

Not long ago, I responded to something posted online and several people’s responses showed that they had either not read what I wrote or not understood the way I wrote it. I suppose sometimes my sentence structure is too advanced for those who are looking for an argument, and they jump on what they think they saw. It kind of reminds me of Charlie Brown playing football with Lucy.

I’m no more a genius than anyone else. I’m just your average person trying to get by in the world. I have nothing going for me that could, in any way, make me influential. The only awards I ever received – other than a couple of fencing medals – were for perfect attendance, and I was even criticized by my peers for those.

I would say my biggest error online is when I get into a conversation with a friend on a post, whether it’s mine, theirs or someone else’s, and I forget that everyone else out there can see what I’ve written. Then someone else comes in and makes a comment on what I’ve said, usually in a negative way. My first thought it, “Mind your own business; I wasn’t talking to you!” And then I realize, oh, yeah, I did post that in a public forum, and anyone can nose in.

I often get into the mindset that, especially if it’s my own post, it’s like being at a cocktail party. You may be in a room with lots of people, but you’re not talking to all of them. You’re talking with a circle who are standing around you, and if someone from across the room comes over and butts in – especially if they don’t have a history with you on the subject – you feel annoyed, to say the least.

Unfortunately, social media is not a cocktail party, and everyone in the room has a microphone.

What I really find obnoxious, though, is when you ask a question about a post, and someone feels the need to put you down for what you’ve posted.

I see social media as an opportunity to learn things on a social level. It’s certainly not an educational forum, but if you look at it like “The Kelly Clarkson Show” or “Evening Magazine” (is that even still on?) it’s the online version of “entertainment news.”

For example, someone posted about the Eurovision contest. I know what that is, but I was unaware of what countries can participate – or even if it’s restricted to certain countries. The post was about one country not participating if a certain other country – a non-European country, in fact – participated. Not knowing what countries participate (I know the US doesn’t, but I don’t know whether or not we’re allowed to), I asked if countries outside Europe were allowed to participate. One person replied that Australia does. That was fine. But the next comment was simply rude. The person said, “Maybe you shouldn’t comment on things you know nothing about.”

I don’t know why that person couldn’t have just scrolled on by. But I replied, “I didn’t comment. I asked a question. Generally people ask questions to learn something, which was what I was trying to do.”

I didn’t grow up watching the Eurovision contest. They don’t play it here. What was wrong with my question? It never got answered, so I still don’t know. But I won’t bother asking on social media.

My real pet peeve on social media is the group of people who just look to be affronted. They see the slightest comment as an attack on them personally. If you talk about educational standards going down, they attack you for calling them stupid. (Hey, first of all, I wasn’t talking to you. Second, I wasn’t talking about you. I was talking about the state of education at this moment in history. Get a grip! – of course, I never say that.)

If you express a dislike of a particular actor, you get a diatribe about how stupid you are because you don’t love what they love. I’ve learned to couch my dislike of actors, singers and others in the performing arts as “not my cuppa.” Many of the attackers apparently don’t know what that means, so they give it a pass.

Reggae isn’t my cuppa. But that doesn’t mean I don’t think anyone should like it. (I’m waiting for those who will misinterpret that sentence because they don’t understand the sentence structure) Like away. Be happy. I’m not saying it’s not music, or that it’s not worthy of fans. I’m only saying I’m not on that fan list. As the song said, “Different strokes for different folks.”

I was teased practically to the point of torture when I was a teen for saying I liked the Monkees and the Bee Gees. After that I kept that information to myself based on prior criticism. Now that there’s only one member of each band left alive, it’s almost cool to be a fan. (So does my cool factor improve if I divulge that I have nearly all of the albums for both bands, mostly on vinyl?)

I used to spend a good deal of time on Social media, probably more than is good for me. I think I’m over it. I now check out whether or not anyone’s messaged me, looked to see if anyone I know has commented on anything I’ve posted, scroll around to see if any of the fun things are there – I have a fondness for videos of Casper the dog, who gives his “father” explanasions  of things, and of course, wants treats – and then I sign off. After all, I have books to write.

I used to love ceiling cat, but I don’t know whatever happened to him, or many other fun pages. I hate the political horror pages, but I do look to see what the comments are occasionally. I’ll even go so far as to type a comment, then leave the page without posting it because I don’t like the negativity.

I think one of my New Year’s Resolutions should be something one of my cousins said about social media several years ago. She said she doesn’t check what anyone she doesn’t know has to say on her posts because it’s none of her business.

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New service: grammar refresher. This month's words: Then/than

then: a time reference. E.g. :She won the race, then received the medal.

than: comparison. E.g.: The giant is taller than the bunny.

 

 

Promises, Promises

 

Every year begins with a slew of resolutions for many people. People load up on more resolutions than they can possibly keep track of, and they’re usually just vague enough to guarantee failure by February.

Lose weight. Give up smoking. Be nicer. Exercise more.

However, those are not goals; they’re headings.

Lose weight? How much weight? What’s your strategy? What’s your time frame? Is it a sensible amount that you can reasonably expect to lose?

Give up smoking. I’m told this one is quite difficult. I don’t know since I’ve never been a smoker. Still, how to go about it? Use a non-smoking patch? Go cold turkey? Gradually decrease the amount you smoke until you’ve reached zero? Again, what’s the strategy, and is it reasonable?

What does “be nicer” mean? Nicer than what? How are you going to achieve it? How will you know when you’ve arrived?

I grew up in a time that, to quote George H.W. Bush, was a kinder, gentler time, even though we had global fears: Someone else dropping the bomb, the Bay of Pigs, the Cuban Missile Crisis, the Vietnam War. But children showed respect to their elders (or else), and were not catered to as if they were in charge. “Please” and “Thank you” were expectations, not requests. People were not seen in public in pyjamas. People held doors routinely for others.

Some people still adhere to these rules, but they appear to come as more of a surprise in a world where a large portion of the population rarely looks up from their phones.

Exercising more is easy to put into a routine. How many times a week, how long each session, and precisely what exercise will be done?  It can be as simple as taking a break every 20 minutes or so from work at the computer to stretch and walk across the room and back to start, or walking around the block. Or, it can involve a gym membership or working out with weights.

With our electronic gadgetry, many people already insist on a certain number of steps in a day. Personally, I look at mileage instead. I have a goal of 2 miles a day as a minimum, although some days that doesn’t happen.

The problem appears when the resolution remains too vague or the individual is too gung-ho to begin with and takes on too much. Jumping into weight training with too heavy a weight can lead to sore muscles or even injuries, and that, in turn, leads to slacking until the pain subsides. Sometimes, even after the muscles stop hurting, the exercise program is forgotten.  Gym memberships are at a peak in January, but gyms are far emptier by the middle of February, even when snow isn’t a factor.

Overcoming procrastination is the biggest obstacle to success where New Year’s resolutions are concerned.

I’m in the “lose weight” category. My strategy is that I have a fixed amount I wish to lose. I know approximately how much I generally lose per week when I’m trying, and I have figured out when I expect to reach the goal weight. Of course, I’ve always been plagued by plateaus, so I still have to figure out how to make weight loss work for me when I hit a plateau.

One thing I absolutely will not be doing is using the highly popular diabetes medications currently being touted as weight loss drugs. I am not diabetic, and I prefer the “less is more” attitude about weight loss. I don’t want to have to rely on a drug for the rest of my life to maintain weight loss. I don’t want to treat myself for a disease I don’t have.

Granted, some people can only achieve weight loss that way, but I’ve demonstrated in the past that I am able to lose weight with a proper eating plan and no drugs. I’m not putting anyone down for using them. They’re just not for me.

I also have reasons for wanting to lose weight, and being the hottest-looking senior on the beach is not one of them. Besides, that’s not even an achievable goal for me. Instead, I want to reach a point where I won’t have to take medications I’m currently prescribed, and I’m also trying to keep from developing type 2 diabetes. So, the eating program is of key importance in my weight loss journey. It’s part of an overall health improvement goal.

My second goal is related.  I want to become more consistent with my exercise routine, both number of times per week that I go to the gym and types of exercises I do. I need to add exercises to improve my postural muscle function, balance, and flexibility. I’ve been thinking about adding tai chi to what I already do, but I need to find out more about it. I already have a variety of exercises I plan to use.

I have also decided to learn French. I know, Irish and Welsh aren’t enough? But I can’t find classes in either of those, and the programs, either online or in apps don’t meet my needs as far as learning strategies go. For example, I completed the Rosetta Stone program in Welsh (which has been discontinued) and still can’t speak the language beyond a few phrases. Our local high school’s evening adult program offers the basic foreign languages (Spanish, French, German, Italian, and now Chinese) in classes over three levels and two conversation classes. With instruction, I stand a better chance of learning. I know how I best learn a foreign language. This will involve more than a year, but resolutions don’t have to end with the New Year’s Eve party.

I think three is the absolute maximum – for me, at least – number of resolutions. More than that, and the whole idea of turning over a new leaf turns into planting an entire tree (i.e. overwhelming and unachievable).

I’ll check back in next year to report on whether or not I’ve succeeded in following my own advice.

If You Could Change Anything

 

 

I go through cycles of wishing I could change things in the past.

Sometimes I’m so overwhelmed by some of the mistakes I’ve made, I wish I could do that time over, and perhaps be a bit more cautious or take a moment to think a little longer before I took any action.

I still feel all of the embarrassment of having made those mistakes, even decades later. In remembering some things – especially in the middle of the night – the feelings I had at the time come rushing back as if I’d only just done them.

Sometimes it’s not something I’ve done; it’s something I wish I’d done. There were things done to me by others that I wish I’d spoken up about at the time. It might have caused someone else to get into trouble, but that might have been better for my life.

Sometimes I think about how I worried about speaking up because I was afraid it would cause a rift in the family, and everyone would blame me. I shudder to think about being hated by the people I loved the most.

I’ve never done or said anything intentionally to hurt anyone. What I have done is said or done things that were clumsy, and ended up being hurtful. That’s what’s so baffling. 

When I should have spoken up and didn’t, it was because I was afraid of others being angry with me, or getting retribution, yet I’ve managed to make clumsy statements that have at times made others angry with me, and have embarrassed me for the rest of my life.

I’ve been told people reach a certain age where they don’t worry about speaking their mind. I don’t know what that age that is. Maybe it’s not an age, but a level of maturity that, so far, I haven’t achieved.

There are other do-overs I would wish for myself. Those are when others have done or said something deeply hurtful to me.  I wish I could have confronted those people.

I’m sure sometimes it was something the other person didn’t think was all that, only a momentary criticism, or a frustration at me being me.

Some of those times were people doing what I can only believe were intentionally hurtful things .

There are times I should have just walked away, discarded someone from my life. But I didn’t, hopeful that things would change. Things never changed, and those people left my life anyway. But by then, damage had been done, regrets accumulated.

If I had the chance to go back, I definitely would. Imagine being able to make a different decision that would save a world of hurt in my life!

But then you wouldn’t be who you are today, some would say.

Looking at who I am today, I can honestly say I could live without some past embarrassment. I could be happy not lying awake replaying certain episodes of my life. And I can definitely see how avoiding certain situations would mean that other unfortunate situations would never have happened. Perhaps I’d be a better person without some of those experiences.

I’ve been told, “Well, you just start from today and do better.” Mm-hmm.

Sometimes this is difficult, not because I don’t want to change, but because I don’t think people will believe that I have.

I’m not the person I was at 11. I wish I’d been feistier then.

I’m not the person I was at 16. I wish I’d been less shy then.

I’m not the person I was at 19. I wish I’d felt more worthy of respect then.

I’m not the person I was at 21. I wish I’d been able to stand up for myself then.

I’m not the person I was at 25. I wish I hadn’t cared so much about finally belonging to a group of friends. They didn’t turn out to be friends, anyway.

I wish seeing people get away with things I never could, seeing them not be judged for doing a wrong that was far worse than things I was chastised for hadn’t made me so angry. It wasted a lot of time on anger in my life.

But I’m not any of those people now. Of course, the real me is someone that very, very few people are aware of. I sometimes wonder: If you knew who I really was, would you hate me? Or would you think I was kind of cool?

I don’t suppose it matters. I’ve been called a liar for telling the truth. And I’ve been given a pass for saying nothing when I should have spoken up.

I think part of the problem is that I’m angry with myself for understanding what it is people want me to say and saying that instead of what I should have, just to keep the peace. And every time I determine never to do that again, I find myself falling into the same trap.

I sometimes think I’m driven by the desire not to be hated.

So often I have been made to feel like the fifth wheel.  I don’t want to bother people. I don’t want to be where I’m not wanted. When people tell me no, I assume they're not interested, ever, so I don't ask again. And I still struggle to feel like I’m wanted anywhere.

It’s not poor, poor pitiful me. I’ve felt uncomfortable in so many situations, felt, “they really don’t want me to be here,” as if I were intruding, even if I was invited. It's not being comfortable in my own skin.

Maybe it’s just part and parcel of being an introvert. Maybe I just wish I could be the me I wanted to be.

I know whenever I talk with someone about getting my writing out there and they tell me I need to sell my ideas to people, I need to market my ideas, I’m filled with such dread because I don’t know how to do that, that I’ve been brought to tears by the very thought of it. I suppose I don’t deserve to be a famous author if I don’t have the guts to do those things, even if I don’t have the first idea how to do them.

Marketing requires a level of extroversion I can’t even fake.

Put me on a stage, give me a guitar and a microphone and tell me to sing. Piece of cake.

Give me a stage and a script and ask me to play a part. No problem. I’m more comfortable on a stage than anywhere else in the world.

Ask me to walk up to a stranger and ask for their time. I have no idea how. The level of fear that involves is more than I care to admit.

Even making a phone call takes twice as much time to rehearse as it takes to actually do.

But it’s who I am. If I appear confident and relaxed, try to find out what character I’m playing, because there’s nothing of that in me.

I do keep trying to be more accepting of me. It would be nice to really believe that if someone invites me somewhere, they actually want me there, and that I can do this without screwing up. But it’s a difficult journey. A lifelong journey.

And if I could go back and fix things, I certainly would.