That Lockdown Life

Some ruminations about the goings-on of this past period of life in lockdown...

I kicked off the Great Quarantine of 2020 absolutely hypnotized by the unfolding stats.  I watched the coronavirus case and death meter go up, up, up.  That scared the shit out of me.  I began looking at all sources of information regardless of political affiliation.  I became kind of a COVID Pac-Man, gobbling up online articles like they were power pellets, clearing board after board with my extensive "research".   I was getting drunk on that power.   Unlike my video game alter ego, however, I felt significantly more power-less the more information I devoured.  Paralysis by analysis, if you will.

I started a new daily routine.  Fresh off losing my job, I stopped setting my alarm every morning and instead let my body tell me when to wake up.  That felt amazing.  It was a wonderful development, a shift for the better.

I have slowly watched myself spring back to life in various ways, many of them unanticipated.  I am noticeably more rested, far less stressed (even given the world situation at large), more focused, more involved in my life than before.   I notice myself paying attention when the clock shows 11:13am, or 1:42pm, or any other moment of the day formerly consumed by working or commuting or just plain being busy, busy, busy.  Not everyone has had such an experience.  I know this.  For me, I am grateful for these gifts of time and presence.  I needed a break from the insanity of the daily grind, and I surely got one.  It didn't come in the package I envisioned, but really:  Who am I to say how it should show up?  

I began taking long walks each day, affectionately coined my "prison walks".  These are often spectacular.  Why?  Well, they have no aim or direction.  There is no True North on a prison walk.  I simply pick an area to roam at a social distance and off I go.  During these jaunts I listen to music, catch up with friends and family, sometimes accomplishing both things simultaneously on a really good day.  I get to feel the sun on my skin.  I see Northern California springtime unfolding all around me.  There are flowers, bushes, and plants all coming to life with a quiet gusto.  I hear birds chirping, which is not a big deal or out of the ordinary until I try to recall the last time the sounds of nature were my main form of entertainment.  (Hint: It was not recent.)

I cook a meal about once a week.  Having roommates now and with a shelter-in-place order hanging over us for nearly two months, the time was right for me to rediscover the kitchen.  I  see how I have a signature meal I love to prepare for certain people and/or occasions:  Lasagna, homemade sauce, and meatballs.  And don’t forget the peanut butter pie for dessert.  

From there I have been branching out a little and attempting some dishes that my mom used to make, but that I had previously been afraid to try doing on my own.  To my happy surprise, these have mostly come out tasty.  I look forward to my weekly turn at chef night.  Some part of me really enjoys cooking.  Probably the Italian part, if I had to guess.

Amidst the pandemic, I have tried to maintain my little corner of the world.  To keep my head on straight.  I limit my news intake to a bare minimum, a trickle here and there.  Even at that, I do not consider myself to be uninformed.  I just...well.  You know.  I don't have to watch it if I don't want to.  Nobody does.   

I do not proclaim to be a virus expert.  I am not a scientist, nor a doctor.  I don't aspire to be a mask-shamer to the rest of the gen-pop when all anyone is trying to do is survive as best they can.  I don't want to live a cynical existence.  That just seems wasteful.  I never have to let fear rule over me, nor do I have to allow somebody else's fears to do the same.

I don't need to be right about the latest stats or conspiracy theories.  If I look hard enough I can always find some shred of evidence out there to support anything I think is "the truth".  Doesn't mean I would be correct, only means that such extensive research comes with a hefty price tag on my sanity and a jangle on my nerves.  Who needs that.

I am caring less about being right and more about being happy than I did before this whole thing started.  I want to feel good about life.  To find hope.  Some days are harder than others, sure.  But I never stop looking.  That feels as important as anything else.

Oh, and I am back to work since last week.  Doesn’t feel anything like it did before.   But then, nothing really does.