A difference between the left and right coasts is we don’t see as many carolers out here in the Golden State. Back in South Ozone Park, we’d stroll around the block shouting in tune at holiday time. Sally Cadden would offer us warm tea and soda bread. She did this to stop me from singing.

One of the carols was “God Rest Ye Merry, Gentlemen,” first published in 1760 and likely around for a century before that. I knew the words, but not the punctuation. The comma comes after the word merry, not before, and so the opening line does not say, “Hey, you gentleman who are merry, take a load off your feet,” but rather “I hope God rests (or makes) all of you merry.” Let’s just assume God intended not just gentlemen but all gentle genders.

The stanza ends with the phrase “Oh, tidings of comfort and joy.” But you don’t always get both. Sometimes you have to choose between comfort and joy.

There’s been a trend on my iPhone. When I go in to train my brain, lower my blood sugar or practice my French, I get asked the same question: “How do you feel today?”

The apps provide five emojis to choose from, starting with a very frowny face on the left and progressing toward a very smiley face on the right.

It’s nice that these algorithms care how I feel. Or at least appear to care. The cynical part of me says they just want data to explain why I haven’t lost weight or cannot remember the future perfect conjugation of the verb être.

Long time readers will remember that I am emoji-impaired, but I do get that the serious frown on the far left is for misery. Zane breaking his foot, for example, rated only the second frowniest emoji because, after all, broken bones get better. Brian’s toe amputation, however, was permanent and got the big frown.

The middle emoji I think of as comfort, as in comfortable, all in all.

That far right emoji? Some people save it for “I won the lottery!” or “My daughter got into Notre Dame!” But for me, it means joy.

My friend Crazy Mike has this game where he asks how I am and I say, “I’m fine.” Then he says, “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way, how do you really feel?”

Crazy Mike knows my feelings are more complex than the five emojis can cover. The lines get blurred. Take the misery, for example. Sometimes there’s a comfort to misery.

I often love a good misery. I don’t mean to brag, but I got broken up with a lot in 1982. Seemed like I couldn’t go out on a date without the guy (or gal) telling me we would best be friends. But there was the comfort of feeling sorry for myself on the couch while eating chocolate and watching “Mary Tyler Moore Show” reruns. I felt morally superior in my melancholy. (We need a German word for that.)

But feelings are also a matter of choice. For a few weeks now I’ve been choosing the middle emoji, where the expression is neither smile nor frown. But I realize now that the happiness button is aspirational. It’s not necessarily for where I’ve been, but for where I intend to go. The question to ask myself is not “How am I feeling today?” but rather, “How do I intend to feel?”

And I intend to be happy. Don’t get me wrong. There are a lot of reasons to feel glum, even here in the best city in the world. There’s homelessness, drought and the closing of Lucca’s Deli. I will never get my Christmas ravioli again.

But having said all that, yes, I still choose happy. This time of year I’ve got no excuse. The Fairmont Hotel puts up two-story gingerbread houses. The Hyatt Regency fills up the lobby with snow and a miniature village. Mark Foehringer’s “Nutcracker Sweets” at the Cowell takes less than an hour and saves me from watching at least five pas de deux. And then there’s my family in the Outer, Outer, Outer, Outer Excelsior.

If you’re wondering how to reach for cheer, try doing some good. See if you can spread the cheer. If you don’t have a charity you like, please borrow one of mine. How about Angels for Minis, to rescue unwanted or abused miniature horses? Or Angels and Blimps to help disadvantaged families have a little holiday bliss?

There’s a lot more work to gladness than there is to misery, but it’s worth the payoff. So if you get to choose between comfort and joy, choose joy.

God rest you merry.