The gift of "How are You?"

Being perhaps especially sensitive to affectation in those I come into contact with and intolerant of drivel laden small talk, I have for decades struggled with the question "How are you?" I just haven't known how to respond, and my (perhaps) incompetency has led me to different responses over the years, all surrounding the fixation that "How are you?" is a question with a prefabricated answer.
One is expected to answer with some variation of, "Fine."
For a while, I thought that the thing to do to keep myself and my communications pure was to tell the unfortunate and (in retrospect) well meaning people who chanced to indulge in this particular social nicety just exactly how I was doing. I was in fact seldom fine, pretty much at any given moment anything but fine, I actually never responded to that question with a fine for many years. I decided that I would give the people what they wanted-the truth.
I just didn't recognize what the truth was.
What I didn't recognize was the gift inherent in that statement. There is a reason that you are supposed to answer the question of "How are you?" with "Fine." It's more than a simple social commandment, it's a social commandment with benefits, if you will.
The question is not, "How are you in all areas of your life, how have you been in the recent past and the projected future?" The question is, "How are you, right now." In order for me to answer the question with absolute honesty, I must stop and evaluate how I am at the very moment that the question in asked. I must be mindful of my life in the present. When I do this, I discover that at any given moment, if I stop to check, I am not being shot at, starving to death, being hit by a piece of space garbage hurtling to the earth, falling over, or splitting my pants. So far, when I get asked that question, and I stop to give a thoughtful answer about how I am at the particular moment the question is asked, I'm actually doing fine.
Fine, thank you.

Accidental death or suicide?

I read Leah's post. Carnage.
I got off the phone with a friend who's brother in law is dying.  I mean body is shutting down and the ugly things are happening and it could be any minute kind of dying.
Came home and had one of those relationship talks with the old man. I feel like there's a corpse in that room also, but no one can pull the blanket all the way up yet.
What this cosmic trio adds up to, I can not say, but I feel like getting on my bike to ride up to Gold's is a bad decision.
I don't want to be a fish squished into a carpet, I don't want to sink away into my own physicality, I don't want this soulless zombie state of affairs to be happening, but this is what is around me, all these things are in my brain. The sum of my experience at the moment.
But it's Tuesday. Tuesday is the day I acknowledge all the lies we tell ourselves and others just to get through life. Those small ones that get us out the door and on our way, things like these pants aren't really too tight they just shrunk in the wash, how are you I am fine how are you, I just put the check in the mail today, he'll definitely call before 8, I'm sure my ATM card is in the pocket of my backpack, there's no way a meteor is going to hit my house, I love that haircut, those kinds of things. The lies we tell ourselves so we don't have to deal with all those little things that can chip away at us on a day to day basis.
I just think it's a lovely clause in the social contract.
So what's my theme people? Does there always have to be one? Is life a story in which you are the main character, or is life a story that's not necessarily about you?
Perhaps I need to go pluck a leaf off of something to see if it will grow.

I was at the dentist

I spent the afternoon at the dentist and am highly drugged as result. I can't even manage a shopping list, so I am not going to even try.

Awareness

Awareness of audience. Are my students reading this? I got a bunch of blog addresses today (nice work, my people) and since I gave out my blog address, I wonder who will be reading it, as each group of students are different.
I have to say, I like this very challenging, very on point, astute bunch of students. It's going to be a great semester. I hate the word challenging, it's a euphemism for so much (and I hate euphemisms!) so I will clarify.
By challenging, I mean I have a group of students who are going to make me better.
And that is one of the very best things about teaching. You get students who make you better. They seem to make you better where you need to be at the time. I remember a student named David. I did not like David. I knew I had to work harder with him, to pay more attention, to listen more conscientiously, to be willing to stretch myself in ways I hadn't before, in ways I very much did not want to stretch, just to keep my commitment to this child I did not like. I had a commitment to be the best teacher I could for him, to do what was right. The story ends happily, because I grew to love him and I am grateful to him still.
I wonder if teachers should take an oath like doctors do. It's that serious.
Well, my students, you make me better. Thanks. I appreciate the obligation I have to you to be transparent in my journey to become a better writer.
I think this semester I will look into memoir. Maybe I have some stories to tell. Towards that end, I have checked out some books about writing memoirs written by writers. Hold on to your seats.
(You might want to read some books about writing written by writers that are germane to your personal goals. I would love to guide you in your choices!)
I am so excited to share this semester's story.