Temperance

You know that stereotype of an aging, get-off-my-lawn curmudgeon? Now that I am nearly 50 (I tend to round up), I definitely have far less patience for downers.

In Chinese, age 50 is dubbed "half-hundred" to indicate a milestone imbued with wisdom. I don't know about wise, but I am more likely to speak my mind, with that "If you don't like it you can unfriend me" bulletproof vest on.

In this age of bad news and more bad news, I am saturated to the point where, if you're going to be a killjoy, I don't even have the energy to engage. Killjoys like my mother, and Aunt Lynn.

They mean well, of course. They always mean well.

When I was younger I enjoyed rebutting that pathetic excuse with one of the best quotes of all time:

"All roads to hell are paved with good intentions."

The year I turned 18, I was moving to California. Aunt Lynn sent a card with some pragmatic housewarming gifts such as kitchen towels and potholders (I didn't even know one needed potholders). In the card, essentially she had written:

"Out in California, careful not to get skin cancer!"

It was so Aunt Lynn. My favorite story to tell whenever I needed to illustrate what a worrywart she was. I'd tell the story, and I'd laugh. It's that absurd.

For years Aunt Lynn was that aunt who would forward apocalyptic news by email that a friend must have forwarded to her. Forwarded by a friend who must have gotten it from a friend. Like a secret club of chain letters.

And these days, now that people don't exactly email for fun anymore, WhatsApp groups, and the like. My mother has been guilty of the same. Seen a piece of news (more like a photo with text) with no date? Forward. It even says "Forward to friends and family to save them!" If I would have had a dollar every time I've fact-checked on their behalf, to debunk or identify as irrelevant due to passage of time... How are people who don't fact-check not embarrassed?

Ever noticed that "pet peeves" are not very "pet" at all?

It irks me to no end, people who make negative comments on social media. People who are supposed to be your friends. It does not happen to me a lot. But I get angry witnessing it happen to someone else. (Yeah, exactly why I have greatly reduced time spent on social media.)

When someone posts a photo of food they have enjoyed, just be happy for them. Please refrain from stupid advice like "Oh, but the cholesterol!", "So high in calories!", "Consuming raw seafood is risky!" They're adults. They know the risks. Have you ever encountered anyone who, when confronted with such comments, responds with, "Oh! Thank you SO much! I had NO idea!!!"?

People who make such comments are probably jealous. Please take your jealousy and move along. Keep scrolling.

This reminds me. About a decade ago, maybe, Aunt Lynn observed that my cousin Trent had put on weight. She pained over (for days) whether of not she should "tell him". I was incredulous. Eventually I was able to talk her out of it. (I was nice about it.) I mean seriously, don't you think he has a mirror?

People make the choices they make. Your are not their savior. Mind your own business.

Incidentally it was only a phase. Trent has been going to the gym regularly since. And if he hasn't? His life. Bug off!

The world is full of negativity. If we can't build each other up, what are we even doing here? And if we can't build each other up, the least we can each do as a decent human being is not to add to the negativity.

Yesterday I decided that I deserved a real long weekend, one of peace and quiet. I didn't need to discuss politics, yet again, with the 'rents, on Skype. I didn't need noise.

So I stated as much in our WhatsApp group, and did so without apologizing. (In the past, whenever I'd miss Skype, I'd apologize. EVERY. Time.) Bam! Self care. It felt good. It felt liberating, and empowering.

Not to say there was no trace of guilt. But I am not looking back.

This morning my mother has left one of those "best in moderation" comments on one of my new food photos. At first I was furious. Knee-jerk was to justify my decision. I commented on her comment, stomach in knots, bracing the possibility of a "feud".

Moments later, fuming less, I thought, I am so tired of explaining myself! Her comment was actually not worth my time and energy. You know that cliché: not going to dignify that with a response? I deleted my comment.

And it felt good. It felt liberating, and empowering.

There is no button for you to push, Ma. Not today.

I am half-hundred. I have no patience for negative people. Get off my lawn.