Tag Archives: Miranda Lambert

Don’t Like Me? Disagree with Me? No Debate Needed. Just. Keep. Scrolling.

Argue-5

We live in a time when a lot of people have a lot to say. Nowadays, the entire world’s an audience at our fingertips.   It’s so easy, isn’t it, to just spout whatever comes to mind:  I like this!  I hate that!  That’s stupid!  This is the best!  Do it my way (you’re an idiot if you don’t!).  Social media has placed anonymous bullhorns at everyone’s disposal and people happily—and routinely — use them.  We just love it because, dagnabbit, everyone’s opinion matters.  Right?

 

I believe in the freedom of speech (mmmmaybe my family is not always thrilled with my practice of it) and I do believe that every person is entitled to his opinion.   What I’m not a fan of is all the anger and negativity that now typically comes with combining those constitutional rights.  What I like less is the intolerance that surfaces when opinions are met with disagreement or opposition.

 

Why is everyone so angry?

 

Here’s an idea:  how about if you see something you don’t agree with …  just ignore it and keep scrolling.  Imagine that.  Just.  Keep.  Scrolling.

 

I am utterly confounded by the amount of people that carry on virtual arguments from behind their computer screens.  The ranting, the nastiness, the back-and-forth, the insulting.  Does anyone truly believe a contrary mind can be swayed simply by expounding in capital letters and angry emojis??  How asinine.  For every one person that agrees with you about any issue, there will be just as many who oppose you, despite your seemingly harmless thought or statement.  Many, many people are ignorant.  Why is it so hard to ignore them?   Many, many people are (punctuation aside) clearly not very bright.  Where is the importance of shining a spotlight on their stupidity?  FortheloveofGOD, why is everybody so offended all the time?

 

My recent experience with a total stranger on Twitter touches on this.

 

After I’d tweeted head-scratching disbelief about the sudden allure of Tonya Harding, a gentleman responded to (and disputed) my opinion of her. I have to admit, I was a little taken aback. Living here in the Nancy Kerrigan quadrant of the country it never even dawned on me there might actually be Tonya Harding supporters still out there but apparently, he was from her home state of Oregon.  Geeze, well I’ll be.  I attempted to mollify his anger with an LOL (and a laughing emoji of course) and gave a sort of Oh Well, To Each His Own retort but it was unsettling.  I’d never heard from him before (and likely won’t ever again) so it was curious to me why a total stranger would bother to take the time to drop the gloves with me.  Really, over Tonya Harding?  Could we even come up with a more insignificant topic?  Let it go, man.

 

I try to stick with Oprah on this.  She was recently being pressured to give a response when our fearless leader publicly insulted her (because, heck, with not so much going on in this country, why not spend some leisure time degrading celebrities?) and her simple reply was: “I don’t like giving negativity power.”

 

Fist pump, girlfriend, me neither.  I think of all the times I type something, then think a minute about the implications, then often keep my finger on the backspace button until it disappears.  With a public page/blog/feed I’ve learned the hard way: sometimes even tongue-in-cheek comments bring out the crazies.  You just never know.  The truth is, not every thought-provoking comment needs to be controversial and not every difference of opinion needs to be documented and debated.  It’s not that I’m above a well-versed discussion of opposing views; it’s just that I’m certain none of the world’s ills are ever going to be solved via Instagram argument.   And it has nothing to do with accepting criticism.  Ha!  I’m a mother of four — my thick-skin suit is impenetrable.

 

Don’t like me?  I am perfectly okay with that.  Just.  Keep.  Scrolling.  Find someone or something you do like and spread THAT around instead.  Wouldn’t it be great if people paid attention to just how many positive-vs-negative  posts they were putting out there?  We talk ad nauseum about the bullying epidemic of our kids and yet we-the- adults are kinda sorta doing a lousy job as role models for them.  Isn’t that a shame?

 

After the frightful events of late I’ve seen posts from some friends touting the 2nd Amendment, the NRA and certain red baseball hats.  I also have friends who spew venom at our Commander in Chief – legit – every single day on his social threads.   I get it.  This is a hot topic right now.  This is THE topic right now.  But this serious, dire, deadly problem is never going to be solved in a Twitter rant.  After plenty (and – most important — private) throat clucks and eyerolls, I watch all these posts go by and Just.  Keep.  Scrolling.  I don’t chime in, I don’t respond, and I even refrain from throwing in incredulous hashtags (#useriousgirl?).  Why?  Because my friends are entitled to their thoughts and I am entitled to my eyerolls and – like Miranda Lambert says – it takes all kinds a’ kinds.  I am an educated woman.  I know if anything is going to effectively change my mind about gun control right now it might be words spoken by a parent who just lost his child in a school shooting but it is never, ever going to be because of a Facebook post by someone without skin in the game … sitting behind a computer … or staring at a smartphone.  No way.

 

So to all the people that happen to be gun lovers  …

and keto champions ….

and crossfitters …

and animal rescuers …

and vegan worshippers …

and (endless) fundraisers …

 

and any other enthusiasts of ANYthing I wouldn’t be apt to give a swipe right to …you should know:  if I’m not interested in joining the cause – and especially if I don’t have anything nice to say, I’m simply going to Just.  Keep.  Scrolling.

If everybody else did the same, that’d be just great.  No offense taken.

 

    *     *     *      *      *      *

Read any good books lately?  Start one here:  A Collection Of Eyerolls:  A Momoir

Chapter 1, Click here:   https://tinadrakakis.com/2017/07/29/a-collection-of-eyerolls-chapter-1-yes-billy-joel-we-will-all-go-down-together/

Chapter 2, Click here:  https://tinadrakakis.com/2017/08/13/chapter-2-sometimes-kids-suck-a-lot/

Chapter 3, Click here:  https://tinadrakakis.com/2017/09/22/chapter-3-sorry-were-tied-all-kids-are-filthy/

Chapter 4, Click here:  https://tinadrakakis.com/2017/12/02/a-momoir-chapter-4-a-moms-plea-to-seth-rogen-enough-with-the-masturbation-already/

 

Tina Drakakis blogs at Eyerollingmom and was featured in the 2014 Boston production of “Listen to Your Mother: Giving Motherhood a Microphone.” Her work has been featured in NPR’s “This I Believe” radio series yet she places “Most Popular 1984” on top of her list of achievements.  (Next would be the home improvement reality TV show of 2003 but her kids won’t let her talk about that anymore).   A witty mother of four, she takes on cyberspace as @Eyerollingmom on Twitter and Eyerollingmom on Facebook. and@Eyerollingmom on Instagram. 

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Alone Again (un)Naturally

relax

My husband just doesn’t understand me, not even for a minute.  My kids might be mildly amused by me (if they even noticed).  But the reality is, I am filled with unabashed glee when left entirely alone for a few glorious days.

 

My better half would rather rake sunflower seeds than spend any significant amount of time by himself.  This might stem from having a job which alternately finds him either in the isolation of a home office or the insufferable free-for-all of an airport.  Not sure.  But I love it and look forward to.  When his annual Guys Ski Weekend rolls around – conveniently after the exhaustive holidays have passed – I become giddy.  Leaving soon?  I ask innocently over my coffee cup on the morning of departure, willing my words to sound curious (instead of eager).

 

It’s only a couple of days.  72 hours really.  Actually, only 48 (of time awake) if I’m nit-picking.  But most women know:  it’s awesome.

 

In the weeks leading up to it you know I got busy.  I made an impressive list of all the incredible things I was going to do to make my life an organized Garden of Eden.   I also planned new exercise regimens, compiled lists of time-saving chore hacks and amassed healthy recipes to try.  I researched new shows to binge and books to download and selected restaurants that I’ve been dying to try.

 

Welp.  Almost immediately my noble intentions swerved sideways so I accomplished little to none of the aforementioned plans.    Because again, it was only a handful of hours of leisure, amiright?

 

Still, I made the best of it.  Here’s what went down:

 

Day One:

 

As soon as the last of the male-stench had exited my building I started off by cleaning it — which (I cannot be alone here) always makes me immeasurably happy.  I blasted Donna Summer Radio.  And Def Leppard.  And Miranda (Ironic Moment of the weekend:  just how much Black Shelton is played on this station).  Anyway, within a few hours my home got just the way I like it.  The best part:  it actually stayed this way for a few days.  This turned out to be serendipity: when unexpected downpours thwarted my high-heel-wearing Girls-Night-Out, my gleaming home became the venue of choice for an evening that’d been in the works with a great friend.  No problem – there was nary a drop of pee on my toilets and I had a pot of meatballs simmering.   We drank wine in yoga pants, shared a meal and caught up for hours.  It was divine.  And not once did any intruder barge in to open the refrigerator and peer inside for eight straight minutes.

ski 3

 

Day Two:

 

Alright, maybe I was moving a little slower today (*shakes head ruefully, mouths Pinot) but I couldn’t stay down for long.  The crazy New England winter weather had flipped its fickle switch and brought an unexpected spring-like day.   Off I went outside, work gloves and wheelbarrow in tow, to clean up all the downed trees from the wicked storms that had turned our property into a war zone.  Now to be clear, this is not usually my gig.  I’m actually a big fan of gender-separated workloads and live quite happily mopping floors while the men in my life mow the lawn and fix stuff.  But I was looking for some bragging rights.  I’m pretty sure nothing screams my wife is hot more than the image of her hauling away branches bigger than her own body.  So I became one with my yard and had some fun with it, even stopping midway to post a pic when I came across a beer pong ball, hidden since a June party.  Go ahead fellas, keep sending me those shots of your raised beers at Après happy hour.  Mamma’s at home, gettin’ it done. #Iamwomanhearmeroar

ski lol

 

After that, I cleaned myself up and went out to do a little food shopping, my brain swirling with the memorized Instagram images of all the roasted Brussel sprouts, toasted quinoa and sweet potato chips I was going to make because I just knew it was all going to melt my pesky muffin top in the New Year.  Turns out, by the time everything was unloaded and put away the sun was going down and death-defying drops in temperature mocked the earlier beach day.  My morning workout of manual labor started to catch up with me and I was dragging.  I declined an invitation to go out, threw on some sweatpants, grabbed a comfy blanket and my book and clicked on a cheezy movie.  Okay, maybe not a woman roaring anymore but …. #STILLawesome

 

Day Three:

I awoke to find it was still frigid outside so naturally I figured The New (Exercising) Me would have to wait a little longer.  I read the Sunday paper to the backdrop of Frank Sinatra Radio and a funny thing happened.  Nobody rolled their eyes at my nostalgic tunes or came sniffing around asking about bacon. I putzed around doing laundry and cleaning out my closet before devoting the afternoon to peeling, cutting, roasting and portioning my newly acquired root vegetables for the week.  (side note:  The New (Healthy) Me had no idea how time consuming this was when I started.  I think I’ve figured out why all those Facebook recipes are on fast-forward).  I continued tidying up things around the house – you know, nothing major, just all those things we walk past every single day and ignore – stopping every now and then to get lost in a random photo album I’d come across.   Not gonna lie, melancholy showed its morose face for bit.  The grey day began to drag.   I checked in with my oldest and made plans to see him during the week.  Then I texted the skiers and told them since I hadn’t heard from them all weekend I was keeping busy posting awesome old pictures on social media.  I wasn’t ……

 

lol ski

 

…. but their lol-responses delighted me.

 

When my husband called that night and coyly asked if they were missed, I responded truthfully:  yes, they could come home in the morning.   I was done.  And getting kinda lonely.

 

It’s pretty wild how quickly a couple of days go by.

 

You hear that?

 

It’s the sound of silence.

 

It’s pretty awesome.  You know, for a couple of days

 

Read any good books lately?  Start one here:  A Collection Of Eyerolls:  A Momoir

Chapter 1, Click here:   https://tinadrakakis.com/2017/07/29/a-collection-of-eyerolls-chapter-1-yes-billy-joel-we-will-all-go-down-together/

Chapter 2, Click here:  https://tinadrakakis.com/2017/08/13/chapter-2-sometimes-kids-suck-a-lot/

Chapter 3, Click here:  https://tinadrakakis.com/2017/09/22/chapter-3-sorry-were-tied-all-kids-are-filthy/

Chapter 4, Click here:  https://tinadrakakis.com/2017/12/02/a-momoir-chapter-4-a-moms-plea-to-seth-rogen-enough-with-the-masturbation-already/

 

 

 

Tina Drakakis blogs at Eyerollingmom and was featured in the 2014 Boston production of “Listen to Your Mother: Giving Motherhood a Microphone.” Her work has been featured in NPR’s “This I Believe” radio series yet she places “Most Popular 1984” on top of her list of achievements.  (Next would be the home improvement reality TV show of 2003 but her kids won’t let her talk about that anymore).   A witty mother of four, she takes on cyberspace as @Eyerollingmom on Twitter and Eyerollingmom on Facebook. and@Eyerollingmom on Instagram.