So Now What?

People in most cultures ask how you are upon first meeting. I do not believe they do this because they are interested. I believe they do this because it is a culturally accepted custom, and by the time you reach the age of 30, it is ingrained in you to do so, and if you do not ask, you are considered to be rude. 

There are certain people, true friends and family members, who genuinely care when they ask this question. Unless otherwise occupied by some silly drama, my response is the generic "I'm ok, how are you doing?". In the past few months, I have used the term "ok" more times than I can count. I began to wonder about the origins of the generic ok answer. Some reference it as a North American Indian word. Others, of European origin. The truth is, no one really knows. But we have the word ok. 

"How's grandma doing?" "She's ok, the same, really." "How are your parents?"  "They're ok". 

Acknowledging that I am a magnet for troubled souls, including but not limited to bums, alcoholics, drug addicts and complete psychopaths - it's ok. Sitting next to an old ex-friend to celebrate the birthday of a good friend - it's ok. Wanting to leave every place you've ever been - it's ok. Being told you suck at everything - it's ok. 

Determined to be done with ok. Because, really, none of it is ok. It is the exact opposite of ok. There is no word for it, it is just not ok. Maybe I am too contemplative. Maybe I am a pushover. Maybe I never completely grew up. I just know that I am tired of the hand I am dealt on a regular basis. 

So now what? The apartment is generally cleaned and fully functional, so if we needed or wanted to bring grandma home it would be possible. I have been becoming bored in the past week or so, looking for ways to occupy my time. I would love a change of scenery for a moment, but I feel like leaving, even for a few days, would be a mistake right now. 

My grandmother's deteriorating state of mind scares me, as she thinks that relatives who are long deceased are living, and living at the nursing home. She doesn't eat, and it has become harder for me to visit because now she does not want me to leave. 

I don't know what this blog post is supposed to be about, but I've said everything I needed to.