How you doin?


Really? Because if everyone  who answered that question with this conditioned response actually felt that way, we wouldn’t probably wouldn’t be the most depressed country in the world!

In all of its forms: “How you doin?” “How are you?” “How’s it going? How’s your day? How’s life? How’s that rash on your inner thigh?”, all of which are asking the same exact thing; how are you feeling?  This may very well be the hardest question we can ask one another. Because…imagine if we got the truth…

“How’s it going?

“Awful, the father in law wants me to go squirrel hunting and then have lunch…Guess what were having; squirrel”

“How’s your day?”

“Perfect, since I’m already making less than a pizza delivery driver, my job wants me to increase my workload, get a raise in title only.  Which means nothing other than I have 10 times more work.  And hopefully, when I get home the dog doesn’t have diarrhea like he’s had for the past week. Yours?”

“How’s that rash on your inner thigh?”


Nobody is just good…we don’t even know what that means.

Years ago, I stopped by GNC looking for something to help me sleep.  Being a recovering alcoholic and addict, my options are somewhat limited.  God I would love to know what having sex on Ambien and Viagra is like…So, I’m pretty much forced to travel down the supplement route.  Sleep wasn’t happening at this juncture of my life.  Work was in the middle of a weak quarter, the weather was, well weather in Upstate, NY during January, I hated my house, and my marriage felt like that zit you have right in the middle of your shoulder blades.  You could feel it, you couldn’t squeeze it, especially with my limited, T-Rex wingspan, and it was bugging the every living shit out of me.  I was convinced I was stressed.  We will get back to why I wrote convinced momentarily, however, this is not the point of the story.  The young man behind the counter, love asking for nutrition, health, and especially sleep advice from a kid that couldn’t have been a week over 19.  But he recommended Melatonin.  I informed him as to why I needed a sleep aid and inquired how many milligrams I need to take.  You know, I needed his obvious expert advice. And he then said something I will never forget: “Well, you know I’m stressed too, you know…the economy…”

I blacked out after economy so he could have told me that he was stressed due to being on trial for sexually assaulting an alpaca as part of a fraternity hazing for all I know.  But the economy?  Really?  Stressed over that Roth IRA and how much is being taken out by Uncle Sam there sport?  Jesus, I’m glad to see that GNC has put together such a comprehensive retirement package for your minimum wage position.  I’m sorry, I really should take it easy on the boy…No I’m fucking not. That kid should have one concern; how many girls he is going to sleep with and hopefully not get one pregnant or catch an STD.  The economy?

But here is the thing, he was conditioned to say the economy, even though he has no idea as to what that meant.  What in this world, or specifically, life in this country, are we NOT supposed to be depressed about?  The fact I can get a burger, large fry, and a coke for less that five bucks?  Yeah, that sounds great in theory.  The catch is how god fucking awful I will feel for a solid 2 hours after I have explosive diarrhea.   So…There’s that…

We worry because it’s easy to do.  We beat ourselves up because it’s harder to look ourselves in the eye and say: “I love you.” We hold grudges because it is so much more cathartic to hate than to forgive.  But for some reason we don’t accept blame.  We are never the ones culpable.  And when I say we, I don’t mean individuals, I mean a respective amount of our ever evolving species.  That doesn’t get attention these days does it?

We all have the friend that life is just an episode of General Hospital.  We can’t tell if the drama just hovers over them like the dark cloud and thunderstorm from a cartoon. Or if they just follow the drama. And we keep feeding that mentality, and now…well

Now, they have a larger arena…But so don’t those that hate, those that fear change, and those who don’t know the meaning to literally.

The latter has nothing to do with anything, I just had to make a point.

We have more platforms than ever to share love, gratitude, and joy with another, and instead, we choose, yes we, we choose to use those to say: What Im not going to do

Why I hate that

Who is wrong

and so on.

Why is this?  Is it because we’re conditioned to only know pain? To know hatred?
Yes and no.  Because we’ve seen both.  This isn’t 1777, the year after we Declared our Independence.  When I’m sure plenty of people looked around and said: “I don’t have a fucking clue what to do…You?”  But they did it because it felt better to do, than to don’t.

And you want to know why?  Because it’s in our DNA.  Do you think cavemen sat on their ass all day watching ESPN and bitched about what his wife made for dinner?  No, either he went out, found something to eat, or they perished.

So why did I say I was convincing myself I felt stress? Because  how do we know what stress really is?  The same reason why people hate so easily.  We are told what to hate.  We are told what to worry about.  Why aren’t we told what to appreciate?  Why are we not taught what to love unconditionally?  I don’t know.  But what I do know:

The fucking economy?!?

I really wish I could ask him today; how you doin?






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