Really, I’m fine
Our state of mental health.
How many times a day do we all answer the Hi, how are you? from our co-workers, bus mates, people on the phone? Lost count? What about the generic response: I’m fine. On CBC this evening, a counselor decoded the acronym in a manner that, although not brand new, merits a moment of reflection. Freaked out, Insecure, Neurotic, Emotional.
Personally, I prefer the quote from Thoreau: Most men lead lives of quiet desperation, and go to the grave with the song still in them. If we’re forced to live like hamsters on a wheel, the thought that there still remains a grain of creativity and optimism right to the end is enough for me. I’ll keep the FINE for day to day existence; it goes along with life in a carousel turned sideways.
Don’t fret the big stuff, because there’s plenty of small stuff to fill in the cracks. I just spent a productive hour recoding a set of web pages for my mate here in our asylum. The damage that a few minutes with a HTML editor on steroids can do is startling.
