I’ll post again. I promise. Just give me a moment to myself. I need to regroup and figure out what’s next. Thanks for checking in.
I’ve mostly been making silly videos for my Insta stories like this one (note: the sound doesn’t sync right for some reason and I can’t figure out that glitch yet. On Insta, I’m able to dub the sound so it works out…you just have to trust):
It’s not gonna win me a Nobel Prize, but it gives me something to focus on for a little while.
People tune in to see them, so maybe I disrupt the constant flow of Coronavirus 24/7 worry.
I’m not getting bored or frustrated. It’s been 36 days since I’ve been in Tucson. Being in Tucson under self-isolation feels a lot like being in Tucson under regular circumstances. It was lonely and uneventful then, and it’s pretty much the same now.
I’ve been boning up on the stuff that matters to me: economics, psychology and sociology, epidemiology and history. Movies and episodic shows don’t really hold my interest lately. It isn’t mania or worry. I just don’t have time for the irrelevant lately. Whatever this energy I’m experiencing is, it’s telling me to bone up, get ready, tell people things they might not want to hear but they need to know.
There’s got to be a German word for this.
I don’t need to pour over every article. Most of the stuff I’m reading these days I’ve already figured out before it hits the dailies. I have to gauge what I tell people ahead of time because I could end up sounding like Chicken Little if I say it too soon and I don’t want to go around reminding people that I was right months in advance.
So I mostly am just absorbing information, keeping it to myself. My days follow their own paths. I wake up, wait for my meds to metabolize. Take care of needs. Do my face. Plan a meal. Do at least one functional chore a day; like filtering water to drink or cleaning something.
I’m holding up well. I know from chaos. I know from loneliness. I’ve been here before, seen the show, bought the t-shirt. Only now I do it with a little bit of glamor and a heaping scoop of detachment. I don’t ring my hands or worry how we’re all gonna get through this. I’m just listening to what’s going on inside and doing what feels right–not in a hedonistic way, but in a way that respects and honors what I already know to be true.
I’m watching my friends around me from 10,000 ft up in the air as they scramble like ants. They don’t see the whole picture. They’re trying to survive in their own individual way. I’m not worried about my survival. I’m not scrambling. Whatever is going to happen is going to happen. What I am doing is staying quiet and still and listening to whatever it is I am supposed to be doing.
This all sounds very vague. I will be back and writing with a fierce determination. But for right now, I’m hanging loose, blood.