American Good

Think about the last time you greeted someone. Did you ask them how they were? What did they reply with? Good. Good, that’s what I thought. Were they actually good? Probably not. 

Last semester I got in an elevator with the girl who I now share a dorm room with, and I asked her how she was, the common question to avoid awkward elevator silence. And her answer definitely alleviated the silence. I was told I was just asking to be polite, and that I didn’t really care. I had no defense to this accusation, because it was absolutely true. 

Today I was in the hallway with a friend who is Hungarian and she asked me how I was. I replied with the generic good. She asked was I good or American good? 

We're all American good. We say it to move on. We ask how people are, but we don’t actually care. We make pleasantries, but we’re not actually interested in the answer. I do it, you do it, we all do it. But, if you want to tell me how your day is actually going, I will listen to it. I can’t guarantee I will react the way you want me too, but I’ll listen. 

I’ve been wanting to write a blog post all week, but haven’t really known what to say. This week has not been my week to share. When I think about it, blogs are pretty narcissistic, I’m just sitting here writing about myself. Like my life is interesting enough to warrant writing about myself. That and avoiding studying for a test on a subject of which I am losing interest. It's really hard to like something you're not good at. So here I am, at another biology test that I will try to use to decide my fate, except this time my motivation to do well on it is gone. My most rational friend thinks I should switch majors, maybe that is a sign.

I haven't posted a good Shirali picture in a while. So here it is for your enjoyment. I figure I need to get off my serious blog post kick.

That winter weather.

 Oh and Dominick if he were gay. We really wanted to go steal a viola for him.

~Noelle