My friend emailed me the other day to ask if I was happy? It took me a few days to respond because I wasn’t very comfortable with my answer. Am I happy? Right now? No. Sometimes? Sure. I’m ecstatic sometimes. But right now, I’m not. And maybe I’m okay with that. Maybe later, I’ll be happy, again. Does that make me bipolar? I don’t think so. Human and moody? Probably.
Have you noticed all the advertisements on television for anti-depressants and sleep aids in between reality shows displaying a variety of mental disorders and dysfunction within families with monstrous kids, cosmetic surgery makeovers, models out modeling each other? “Ask your doctor if Paxil is right for you,” the commercials advise. That means, basically, self-prescribe. After all, who knows you better than you do? But should we really be prescribing drugs for ourselves based on a general list of symptoms that any normal person with the IQ of a chimp should experience?
Why do we think that we should all bounce around giggling like a Disney cartoon? I’d rather ride the ups and downs. I must say that I’ve known a few poor souls who sink to such depths that living is too painful. They need help. But most of us should feel sad once in a while. After all, there’s a lot of sad shit happening all over the world. And if it makes us sad, if we find that our eyes tear up during the evening news… then we might just be human… empathizing with other humans. Imagine that. Frankly, if you don’t feel sad once in a while, then you might as well go back to swinging from tree limbs, picking bugs off your friend’s ass and figuring out how to make a rudimentary tool out of a broken branch. We’re human. We should feel things.
I know quite a few people who work in the entertainment business who obsess over their mood, physical ailments and share a generally bleak and dismal outlook. They complain all the time that they’re wealthy and successful, yet they’re so unhappy. But here’s the rub… they’re assholes! They should be miserable! They treat people like shit and spend their days knotted up with envy, jealousy and a plummeting self-esteem. So, they consult psychiatrists and quickly jump on a cycle of anti-depressants. To the doctors, I say, “Don’t write the prescriptions! They’re assholes! They should be depressed! They should be fetal position, pillow-clutching depressed! They’ve earned it!”
Personally, I would like to see empathy make a big comeback. I think we should start taking pills to “feel” even more than we do now. I’m not saying that I hope we all start weeping and hugging through melodramatic, manipulative insurance commercials, but I’d like to see people stop numbing themselves. Then maybe we’ll get pissed off more about abuse of our environment, education, women being treated like shit all over the world and you know… big issues.
So, you’re feeling a little down, huh? Come on, you bunch of apes, get off your asses and stand up! Don’t make a monthly donation to drug companies and your local doctor. Smoke a joint, take a walk, get laid or – here’s a novel idea – do something to improve yourself, your community. Just do something.
I feel a good mood coming on.