Hi, how are you?
I fucking loathe this question!
I fucking loathe the fact that people ask you this question without thinking. I fucking loathe that people ask this ridiculous question without knowing that they are asking it. I fucking loathe that people no longer know how to communicate with each other outside the roles that they have adopted. I fucking loathe that people ask this question while they continue to walk away from you. I fucking loathe that people don’t actually care how you are. I fucking loathe that people will expect you to respond by saying either “good,” “okay,” “not bad,” or “fine.” I fucking loathe that if you actually tell someone how you are, they don’t want to listen. I fucking loathe that if you actually answer what people ask you, they do their best to retreat back into their fucking shells. I fucking loathe that if you don’ answer that fucking person by saying either “good,” or “okay,” or “not bad,” or “fine,” they will be offended, offended because you ignored their empty, sad, pathetic fucking question that they asked you for no other reason than because it is what they think they should do. I fucking loathe that if you don’t ask a person how they are, they will be offended, waiting, expecting you to ask them, just so they can respond by saying “good, or “okay,” or “not bad,” or fine.” I fucking loathe that no one will tell you how they are, for fear that you, as is most certainly the case, don’t give a flying fuck.
I fucking loathe the games that we play.
I fucking loathe the moulds that our humanness have fallen into. I fucking loathe the structures that govern our humanness, suffocate our humanness, and do their best to negate our humanness. I fucking loathe that naked interaction is something feared, instead of revered. I fucking loathe that words such as fucking are so taboo, while words such as murdered, and killed, and raped, and slaughtered are so commonly used without second thought. I fucking loathe that we’re expected to grieve for someone else’s loss, but told to look on the brighter side when it’s our own loss that haunts us. I fucking loathe that there are certain guidelines that we are to subscribe to for feeling, and for hurting, and for being. I fucking loathe that sincerity scares people, and that insincerity comforts them. I fucking loathe that ignorance is masked with beauty, fear with arrogance, hate with love, love with trepidation, stupidity with entertainment, entertainment with arrogance – I fucking loathe that things are masked.
I fucking loathe that our society has swallowed the humans in which it purports to help. I fucking loathe that notions of becoming yourself have become cliché. I fucking loathe that the self is now a product of mere consumption, and that each and every one of our selves is a mere tool for masking the underlying tumult that pains us, fuels us, and is us. I fucking loathe that we have to censor our thoughts, our feelings, our emotions, our hopes, our dreams, our pains, our delights, our core, our true selves, for the purpose of avoiding isolation, and fitting in. I loathe that we have become so ignorant to the miasma wafting through our sphere that aims only to poison us, that we have ended up worshipping the exact thing that silently pines our demise. I fucking loathe that our civilisation has shrouded what makes us human, shunned it, morphed it, and made it into something of mocking, of ridicule, and of money. Of money.
I fucking loathe that money, money, plastic, paper, drives our communications, drives our thoughts, drives our actions, our behaviours, our self censorship, our invariably inauthentic modes of fucking contact.
I fucking loathe that our concerns lie not with people, but what those people can do for us, how they can benefit us, how we can step on them and climb up to a petty destination that we figure will provide us with what we need, what we want – what our ignorance has bred.
I fucking loathe when people ask the question: How are you? When the “you” that they are asking about is one that has been manufactured by a human-less, faceless crowd.
I Fucking Loathe
After reading this, I hate to say that I actually am *authentically* wondering how you are … the tone has changed a bit. Not complaining, just a different side to you s’ppose. But yes, I loathe it all too.
I’d never assume anything other than total sincerity from you, loony tuney. And you’re perspicuous nature serves you correctly; not doing so well. Not doing so well at all, really. I think I’ll live, unfortunately. But hopefully I’m struck with a miracle, or a bolt of lightning. Either would be welcomed, but preferrably the latter.
Usually, its the miracle … though they never come in the way we want. You’ll keep moving your feet, questioning each step, but moving nonetheless. If you ever want to talk to a loon, you know where to find me … instead of the “keep your head up!” I’ll just give you the occasional nod and kick in the ass.
I actually am still a little puzzled after people ask me how I am. First I think about giving an explanation, then I remember they’re just being nice. Then I smile and say “fine, thanks” and wonder at the pointlessness of it all…
It is indeed a ponderable phenomenon. Fine thanks, without asking how are you back, is, I’ve found, the best approach. Though, I still catch myself asking it in return, which still annoys me hah.
“I fucking loathe that we’re expected to grieve for someone else’s loss, but told to look on the brighter side when it’s our own loss that haunts us” —— I never thought about this one. Makes so much fucking sense.
When I ask “how are you” I genuinely care. And I immediately catch on when someone is refraining from responding with honesty. Which makes me NOT wanna fucking ask how are you. Because people never want to say how they are, always pretending that everything is alright. Two sides to the coin I guess. But I have also noticed when people ask and walk away, before I even answer! Just greet. Never anything wrong with saying, Good morning, good afternoon, good night, hello, etc.
Whenever I ask how someone is, I tend to look up at them with big, curious eyes, which, like you said, usually freaks people out. It’s funny, that, I reckon.
And yeah, most of this human interaction business is a load of hooey. But, all you can do is try, try and try again, I guess.
Just stop playing their game…
Fine advice!
Weird one, how are you?
Can’t say that I’m jumping for joy, but I’m getting by somehow. The two posts following this one explain why, if your’e at all curious.