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 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.
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.
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