Editor’s note: Flyer writers will occasionally share this space.
They came with the first wave of warmish weather that washed over Memphis this year. It started with the briefest rustling of the blinds near my apartment window, occasionally supplemented by the soft fluttering of wings in the dead of night. But then, slowly, spots of red and orange hues began to appear everywhere, taking over my living space and making themselves at home.
The ladybugs had returned. And they didn’t even offer to pay rent!
Although, according to Google, these aren’t your run-of-the-mill ladybugs. This other species that has set up shop with me over here on Mud Island is likely a family of Asian lady beetles, a more invasive variety that simply can’t stop helping itself to prime suntanning spots on my windows and buzzing around some of my lamps. I don’t really mind bugs, but these ones kind of unnerve me, with their little tails (ladybugs shouldn’t have tails!) and their occasional propensity for extra wing flutters as I lie in the dark trying to sleep. That’s not okay, bugs.
Maybe the rest of you Mid-Southerners are used to this. But not me; where I grew up, in Santa Fe, we got used to centipedes, millipedes, prowling tarantulas, and even the occasional bat hanging from the veranda. So my battle for the last week has revolved around a single-minded goal: to get rid of these scarlet squatters and restore peace to my abode. Okay, sure, they’re pretty harmless, and I could wait for my pest control work order to kick in, but by golly, I can occasionally be obstinate and have to draw the line somewhere when it comes to interlopers.
At first, it was simple enough to coax the bugs onto a sheet of paper or a book cover and deposit them back outside to enjoy the nice weather we’ve been having. But mine was a persistent foe. As I clacked away on my keyboard, helping to edit some of the great columns you’ll read by the talented writers here in the Flyer, my ears would pick up an occasional rustle or another flutter. A quick peek at the window revealed one … no, two, wait, four more ladybugs hanging around? And is that another one hanging out by my bookshelf? How vexing.
The ladybugs occupied my obsession for a week, an unwanted distraction next to real responsibilities that actually matter, like turning this column in on time and getting the issue off to the printer. But this is a problem that I chose to focus on. And as my internal clock ticked past 30 years of age last year and the feeling of old age began to settle, the idea that I needed to more carefully select my battles has never seemed more appealing.
The outrage machine both online and off never even sputters these days, throwing up weird controversies that demand an emotional outpouring of fury and rage. Gas stoves? M&M’s mascots? More stuff about England’s royal family?
To be blunt, on certain days it feels like I can’t care anymore. Maybe a decade ago I would don my armor as a soldier of the Twitter wars, but engaging with a too-online rando who might clearly be a troll now is just, well, a waste of time.
Some days, my brain hurts trying to wrap itself around nonstop vitriol surrounding mundane problems. Not when there are real issues that demand our attention. Not when our governor is trying to police gender or paint scarlet letters on drag performers. Not when innocent people are beat to death in the street.
Direct your outrage towards real issues that merit it, and have some leftover brainspace for the little things important to you. Maybe one of my friends thinks a specific local beer is the best in town (it’s not). No problem, he enjoys it, it’s not hurting me, I’ll save my incredulity for something else. And maybe I’ve wasted time dealing with a bug problem that requires a professional hand. That’s okay; working more actively to tune out all the excess noise means that the smaller issues that pop up week after week won’t become the proverbial straws that break the camel’s back, and I remain motivated for the real challenges that still lie ahead.
But the battles continue. If you’ll excuse me, I’ve got another bug to squash.