Meth: a Ticking Timebomb Gone Viral

You Can Lead a Human Towards Happiness, But...

...but? You can't make a human happy. Only a human can do this.

When I write a blog post, I try to be inclusive of others and generally invite those who may read it to participate in the conversation...and some do (thank you). The trick is to ask the right questions of you, the reader...the human, I know we all are, about YOUR lives. I don't want it to be all about me. How boring; once I've told you everything about my life, what then?

Superficial questions simply will not do. Politics is to be avoided unless wanting to start a war. What we ate for lunch? I'm pretty sure that FB takes great care of that super interesting little question that I'm sure EVERYONE wants to know the answer to...and let's face it, lands squarely in the category for nomination for the superficial question of the year award.

Bank accounts and personal ID questions should be left for scammers, after all, they need to make a living too. So what questions are left for me to enquire about?

One of my favs is, are you happy? Now to me, this is such a simple and good question to ask because, for one, I'm interested, otherwise I wouldn't bother to ask in the first place...and two, I imagine whoever is reading said question would, or at least, should be interested too. Perhaps this is too difficult a question to answer because happiness is fluid and can change from one day to the next. Common sense should tell you that I am not asking (when I do ask) specifically, at that very moment, if you are happy. I'm asking in a general sense.

I can see why surveys use a zero to ten rating system. And if I WERE to ask you if you were happy or not, and tell you that zero is clinically depressed and ten is ecstatic to the point of wetting your pants, going by past survey results I have conducted here on WdC, I think the general consensus would be...mind your own business.

I can do that. In fact, I can easily ask no questions of others and be as insular, and or as self-absorbed as the next person. But what does that achieve (sorry, too personal?)? I can talk all day about my three absolute favourite people in the world...me, myself and I, but if you want to know ANYTHING about me, it's all in the items on my port and blog posts. I can't see any reason to write it all again. And I already know the answer to THIS question, so please, take it as rhetorical and save us all the effort...is anyone out there interested? I know that a few are, but in general, I also understand the reality is not that many...c'est la vie.

Does this mean there are no winners in the equation (me wanting to help guide us all towards a happier and more fulfilling life, myself included)? Is my want/need to help others in vain? Should I stick to FB (sorry, but please...I'd rather be drawn and quartered than become so desperate for something outside my day-to-day boredom than to open an account on social media. A place where all you are guaranteed to find is what everyone is having for lunch these days, along with a dessert of insecurity and self-doubt)?

Perhaps I should just focus on my own happiness and fuck the rest. And from what I can tell, most people don't care too much about being happy anyway...at least, not until the very second after they jump. Or worse still, stay until the bitter end.

Thank God for the therapists. I couldn't live with myself if I put any of those hard-working book nerds out of a single session. And does it really matter that they have no idea about who we are or even what makes us tick? And we can't blame the professionals because even though we pay for it, we cannot reveal those ugly truths to anyone, especially ourselves. Isn't it ironic that we pay them to help us know ourselves better, and yet, they couldn't care less about us, the people who come to their plush suites, lay down and go on and on about our trivial problems?

What a quandary...and what a waste of hard-earned cash when the answers to every question about us can be found in one convenient place...inside our own frightened little minds. In my own frightened little mind, rather than pay a therapist $200 per hour, I would walk into a bar (I don't drink alcohol, but I wouldn't be there to drown my sorrows, only to highlight them), sit down next to some friendly-looking stranger and offer to buy them a drink...but ONLY if they promise to shut the fuck up, don't offer any advice and sit there nice and quiet like until my tears have stopped flowing and everyone within earshot has gotten bored and gone back to their own troubles.

I hope this helps, but if not, I certainly had fun writing it.